Half Heard and Half Seen

It's 2018 and I'm 15, wearing a 3 peice suit, talking my way into a house show I shouldn't be allowed into. I had an innocence that when combined with my ability to make shit up on the spot, was probably dangerous. I spoke my way in and out of pretty much anything.

I was never home for long. Actually, I wasn't anywhere for long in general. I was relatively well known in the area I lived. I was well connected. Not exactly an extrovert, but I liked that being around people meant more “things” would kind of just happen. I was a very timid and fearful child growing up, and as a result something like a chaotic punk show made me feel like I was crossing a threshhold. When I was first shoved into a mosh pit against my will, something in me felt like it breathed for the very first time. It was almost an addiction. I liked being on the other side of that threshold. In my young immature sort of way, I tried to sustain that. However, I couldn't, and I did it in all the wrong ways. But I had the right idea.

Revenant

Four years later, War came. I was unaware it happened and unaware something like this even could happen. I was hit, and hit hard. A spiritual shelling feet away from me. Shrapnel riddled my mind. It felt like I was dying. Like reality was unstable. Like whatever laws that governed the beating of my heart, the orbiting of planets, whatever sustained my existence, was suddenly gone. I felt as though at any moment, the moon would collide with the earth. I felt as though if I fell asleep, my lungs would not automatically breathe. As if Lovecraftian, dispassionate, chaotic forces were at play and I was a mere plankton floating around in an abyss of uncertainty and utter randomness. Before this I was often called “Lucky” by people who spent a lot of time with me. I had a knack for being at just the right places at the right times. At this point, I saw it as just that. Dumb luck. And I felt that this luck was going to run out any second. The impending doom filtered my perception. I felt vulnerable, the flood gates had opened. If you want to learn more about this phenomenon, i sugguest reading Gryphons “Abraxas and the Outer gods” article here on substack. His publication is called “The Son Of Mercury.”

I hid for a long long time when I got hit. They all thought I was dead. The guy in the suit and tie had ceased to exist, maybe he moved to another state. Maybe he finally got caught at the wrong place at the wrong time. In my years of hiding, the world changed suddenly and rapidly as the war escalated. People changed. People I knew changed. The tone of everything changed. The theme song of reality changed.

After a painful couple years of insomnia, 24/7 panic attacks and isolation, I started to slowly heal from my wounds. I emerged and paid the world a visit. However what was supposed to be a return home was more like a visit to a graveyard.

Everything I knew had changed. Everything I had rooted my identity in had become almost a bad impression of itself. It was then I realized that It wasn't just me, but the entire world. And my land had just been conquered and colonized by something I had no words for. It was always there in the background, but it never really fully accessed us like this until then.

When I spoke to people, they didn't hear me. It wasn't just that I'd gotten rusty. At first I thought I'd let my social anxiety get out of hand, and it was just making me weird. But no, that wasn't quite it. That was part of it. But not it. Because sometimes with some people who survived whatever this event was, it wasn't like that.

No, they really didn't hear me. They looked at my eyes, heard words, but I no longer was understandable. Everything became ridgid, controlled, routine. Nothing spontaneous ever happened. I felt like an outsider everywhere.

Many blame covid for this. Oddly enough, this was right before it hit. Covid was not the cause. Covid was the aftershock. Covid hit way before covid “hit”. I was at what seems like ground zero. It's like we all forgot, and forgot we forgot. We were all hit, and we forgot as it happened. History, our minds, began unraveling. I didn't know I knew the future, and forgetting it was death. Remembering the future after this spiritually and psychologically traumatic event was extremely difficult. Which by the way I couldn't even communicate why I was going through this, so I was essentially unable to speak to other human beings about any of this for seven years. Seven years of silence and disconnection. I always thought of myself as weak, but when I put this to paper and read it, I see how untrue that is. It is a miracle I didn't go completely mad. And If i am mad, it's a miracle it wasn't much worse.

Anyways, It seemed like part of me retrocausally and voluntarily participated in this experience. In retrospect, it was as if I was experiencing not just my shadow, but “The” Shadow.

I dreampt of this figure multiple times before this show even released. And afterwards when my anima first started attempting direct communication, I had a dream where she appeared to me, “paralyzed” me in my bed (note the scorpionic themes) and an inner voice that was me agreed to another strange deep voices proposition. My anima in that dream was terrifying. The voice sounded like a demon. And I thought i’d just made a pact with some kind of demon involuntarily when I woke up the next day. It has since occured to me that this dream was essentially showing me the inverted negative side of everything in general. When I bring this up to her, she shows me the fear toxin from batman beyond and says “The toxin showed you things. You internalized these things. They will only hear half of what you say, the same way you can only understand half of what I say, half of the time.”

Funnily enough, when she first contacted me, it was during a period where a scorpio women I was involved with had kind of “intoxicated” me. I am not exactly a virgin or inexperienced here, so when I tell you this women put a spell on me, I'm not kidding. Purple haze. It didn't just make me go mad, It demonstrated pretty much all my weaknesses at once in a way I could no longer childishly avoid. It was agonizing levels of disgrace and shame. (How beauty exposes you kind of covers this idea.) When the venom wore off, It became obvious this women had absolutely nothing to do with it. I spared her my craziness, probably for the better, bless her soul. Very kind person. If it sounds like I'm painting either her or my anima as “evil” I'm not. But it sure looked that way sometimes. That's kind of how I know it's the real deal, she showed me the dark side of the moon knowing damn well what would happen, and it was in a situation where failure was of little consequence and part of the process.

Now, after all this, after essentially being killed, after reflecting on my story through this new lense, and despite being only half heard and half seen, when I look into someones eyes I see something in there that understands even when they don't. Even when I don't say anything really.

I have faith.