What was I doing? Tigan accepting my request opened a new door. A door I went running through and then stood there, not knowing what to do next. I had scrolled through his pictures a million times, watched the Youtube videos, it wasn't enough anymore. I needed him to know I existed as more than just an online profile, that sounds sad doesn't it? I find it strange that everything is so digital these days. We can present ourselves however we want on a computer screen, add filters, project a completely different person than who we really are and no one is the wiser, until actual human contact is required.
He posted about an upcoming show. Same place where I first encountered him, the place where something happened that I still cannot explain. Previously the thought of returning filled me with fear, now I knew I had to go. I have to see him again, I have to see if the same thing happens, if I have a chance to, dare I say, speak to him. I couldn't just approach him out of the blue that would seem crazy right? Maybe I'll send him a message first, that would be easier, safer. The thought sent a jolt up my spine, I had toyed with the idea the last few weeks but never actually considered doing it until now. Ok, here we go.
"Hello Tigan, I caught your show a few weeks ago here in L.A and just wanted to introduce myself. I'll hopefully be attending your upcoming show on Saturday. Take care, Lenore"
Click! Message sent. My heart was pounding, what if he thinks I'm weird or some groupie chick? I need to calm myself, not jump to conclusions.
A few hours have passed and I had to tell you, he responded!
"Hello Lenore, Nice to meet you. :). Hope to see you there. Great profile pic by the way. Take care, Tigan"
Oh my God! He said great profile pic! Really it's just an overly dramatic black and white shot, you know the type, when you're trying to seem "deep" and "profound". Wait was he being sarcastic? Ok spiraling again. Now I had to go. Would he recognize me? Well we'll just have to wait and see.
Say It All, Say Nothing
Time has passed, I hate the Summer months. I feel like I go into a type of internal hibernation during the Summer. Fall and Winter is when I flourish. I just do better when it's cold, overcast and raining. Maybe I feel the world understands me a little better during this time of year.
I haven't received a response to my friend request to Tigan yet, I have frequented his fan page and watched a few performances online. He is playing locally again and I'm not sure if I'm brave enough to attend. I haven't been able to watch him through a computer screen without feeling short of breath, yet I can't look away. I guess that's what they say about certain drugs right? They make you feel weird, dizzy, even sick but you keep going back. Not a day has gone by I haven't thought of him in my hibernation. That night, that look, playing over and over. I've gotten all the info I can from what is publicly available. I don't know what's wrong with me, I've never been this....... dare I say... obsessive. That little voice is telling me to just quit but everything else screams not to give up, keep searching. Like he's meant to be in my life, to teach me something or for my journey to continue down the correct path, we must connect in some way. He must know I exist.
Maybe it's my own issues, being named after a ghost of a woman, a memory, I'm determined to prove I'm real. Sounds silly doesn't it? I'm restless, but talking to you helps. Tigan has sparked something within me and I'm afraid it is going to destroy me if I don't let it out somehow, I hope that makes sense, I swear I'm sounding more and more..... obsessive. I should go, be productive.
Wait, before I go, oh my god! There it is, my validation! Tigan Fantoma has accepted my friend request!!!!! Now I get to peek into a world not everyone gets to see. I have to go, I have to explore, I'll keep you posted.
Too Much is Not Enough
So what happened next? Well, several hours had passed. I was just laying there, wide awake, my mind trying to organize the bizarre thoughts that were forming. My eyes focused on a yellow piece of paper on the floor. Oh that's right, there were flyers for last nights performance. I sat up and stared at it for a moment, almost afraid to pick it up. This meant it was real, this meant HE was real. I slowly stood and reluctantly walked towards it, I was afraid to look, I didn't even bother to last night. I don't even remember taking one. As I picked it up I noticed the poor quality, the black ink just appeared muddy against the yellow background. Then I saw his picture, barely recognizable from the poor copy job, but his full name was there, Tigan Fantoma. Suddenly I wanted to know everything and let's face it, in this day and age, everything isn't hard to find.
I sat at my laptop, questioning why this was so important to me but soon my fingers were typing his name into the search bar, I took a deep breath before hitting enter...... click, the page was soon filled with all the information I could ever want, yet not enough. Link after link, Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, I didn't know where to start. I didn't want to click on the videos of his performances, to be honest I was too scared. To me it would be the same as sitting down at the Ouija board, seeking answers and inviting in a chaotic entity that you cannot rid yourself of.
I found his bio. He was born in Romania, moved to Los Angeles as a teenager, and has been playing the cello since he was old enough to grasp the bow. I began scrolling through picture after picture, each more stunning than the last, what was I doing? I wanted to look away but I couldn't. I came across his Facebook page, I assumed he would have a "fan page" but this was a personal page. Very little was publicly visible here and it was making me insane. He had thousands of Twitter and Instagram followers but anyone could view those profiles, I wanted to see what wasn't readily available to everyone. Why? Was this going to make anything different? I was just going on subconscious movements by now......... click, I had sent a friend request. My mind screamed, "What did you do that for? He has no idea who you are!". I don't know I just wanted to see what would happen.
While waiting for a response, I continued scrolling through his pictures on other social media sites. I noticed something carved in his cello, it read "Gypsy Ghost". In another picture I saw the same words on its case, I was confused for a moment but a brief entry into a translator and my question was answered. This was his name, Tigan Fantoma is Romanian for Gypsy Ghost.
I sat at my laptop, questioning why this was so important to me but soon my fingers were typing his name into the search bar, I took a deep breath before hitting enter...... click, the page was soon filled with all the information I could ever want, yet not enough. Link after link, Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, I didn't know where to start. I didn't want to click on the videos of his performances, to be honest I was too scared. To me it would be the same as sitting down at the Ouija board, seeking answers and inviting in a chaotic entity that you cannot rid yourself of.
I found his bio. He was born in Romania, moved to Los Angeles as a teenager, and has been playing the cello since he was old enough to grasp the bow. I began scrolling through picture after picture, each more stunning than the last, what was I doing? I wanted to look away but I couldn't. I came across his Facebook page, I assumed he would have a "fan page" but this was a personal page. Very little was publicly visible here and it was making me insane. He had thousands of Twitter and Instagram followers but anyone could view those profiles, I wanted to see what wasn't readily available to everyone. Why? Was this going to make anything different? I was just going on subconscious movements by now......... click, I had sent a friend request. My mind screamed, "What did you do that for? He has no idea who you are!". I don't know I just wanted to see what would happen.
While waiting for a response, I continued scrolling through his pictures on other social media sites. I noticed something carved in his cello, it read "Gypsy Ghost". In another picture I saw the same words on its case, I was confused for a moment but a brief entry into a translator and my question was answered. This was his name, Tigan Fantoma is Romanian for Gypsy Ghost.
Emotional Embalming
We've spent some time together, you and I. You know I think it's time I told you about Tigan. I haven't told you about Tigan yet have I? Oh silly me, where do I start? I can't even remember how long ago it all started, feels like centuries, but I can tell you about the first time I saw him, would that be alright with you?
I remember being dragged out one night by some friends, you know how it goes. They were telling me how I needed to get out, that I can't stay home with my books and music. "Why not?" I thought, "The characters in these books have always been there for me, and listening to lyrics sung by dead voices has always comforted me." However I do enjoy people watching, so off we went.
There is a strange love / hate relationship I have with the Hollywood scene. So many people who don't live here think it is all glamorous and filled with famous people, but it's all a façade. Once you accept the reality of the dirt, deception and shallow promises, then you're fine. You move on and see it for what it's worth, a place filled with lost souls, unfortunate people trying to convince others of things they cannot even convince themselves of, it's all one big stage. A beautiful stage filled with so many characters, lights, sounds, and experiences. The secret is, sometimes under all the grime, you find something special, something that was placed here just for you to find.
We walked into the bar a little after 8pm. I was not pleased with the crowds. I believe that everyone and everything carries their own energy and that energy can be exchanged very easily with the simplest interaction. When there are several people in one room, all that energy is running wild and you're absorbing little bits of it here and there. This gets exhausting and my own energy can get drained very quickly. Anyway, moving on, before I get too distracted, We found a place close to a small stage. Was I in the mood to hear some struggling band half heartedly play? No. I wanted to be a good sport so I stayed but found a spot that felt a little more secluded. Here I could hide, well... as well as anyone in a room of several people could hide.
Tucked away I lean against the wall, check my phone, sigh, it's almost 9pm. I'm tired and the girls walking around squeezed into clothing three sizes too small were making me uneasy. Then, the lights dimmed, the room was almost completely black, I felt a slight rush of panic, I don't like this, I clutched my purse tightly and braced myself against my wall, the crowd grew quiet, almost silent. "Did someone slip something into my drink?" I thought to myself, then I heard it, a sound I was not expecting to hear, the sound of a cello! Slow, mournful, beautiful, the notes echoed off the walls. A faint light began to shine down on what till this day I can barely describe. Every time I attempt to put this into words, no justice is done, but here it goes.
Still stunned by the sound, my eyes began to focus on the stage. There under a faint glowing light was Tigan. He sat, looking as if he were a painting come to life, a painting someone put time, passion, love and even their own blood into creating. Pale skin glowing as if the moon were shining directly on him, but we were indoors! Hair darker than ravens wings flowed passed his shoulders and down his chest, I swear it looked as if it were made from the finest silk. His hands skillfully moving along the strings, the bow effortlessly gliding as if guided by a gift from Satan himself. Then he looked up. This is where things get a little fuzzy in my memory. I remember seeing his eyes, glowing green orbs, that seemed to hold secrets and sights from other worlds. Suddenly I couldn't breathe. The room felt empty, the sound of the cello grew louder and I began to feel every note pound in my chest, his eyes locked in my direction, and then I felt numb. For a brief moment I felt nothing, as if everything I've ever felt, every memory I've ever had, was flooding out of my body, like I was being emotionally embalmed. Before I could even begin to try to process what was happening, the music stopped, the crowd began to roar in applause, girls screaming, I felt dizzy.
That night I barely spoke with my friends, I just told them I wasn't feeling well, they wouldn't understand what I had experienced, I didn't even understand it yet. When I returned home, my room was silent but my head wasn't, his music, continued to play, as it were subliminally reminding me to remember him, see him, feel whatever that was over and over again. I tried to focus on other things, I returned to my favorite characters in my books, but they provided no company. I put in my headphones and tried to drown out the sound of the cello with something else, something louder, but it didn't work. I even tried to sleep but all I could see were those green eyes, framed in black. You may laugh at this but I even considered the possibility he may be a supernatural creature! When someone triggers such a primal response within a place you didn't even know existed, you may explore every reason why.
That seems so long ago, and to think, he was going to make many more appearances, not just on stage, but in my life as well, whatever was left of it at this point. So, yeah, that was the first time I saw Tigan.
I remember being dragged out one night by some friends, you know how it goes. They were telling me how I needed to get out, that I can't stay home with my books and music. "Why not?" I thought, "The characters in these books have always been there for me, and listening to lyrics sung by dead voices has always comforted me." However I do enjoy people watching, so off we went.
There is a strange love / hate relationship I have with the Hollywood scene. So many people who don't live here think it is all glamorous and filled with famous people, but it's all a façade. Once you accept the reality of the dirt, deception and shallow promises, then you're fine. You move on and see it for what it's worth, a place filled with lost souls, unfortunate people trying to convince others of things they cannot even convince themselves of, it's all one big stage. A beautiful stage filled with so many characters, lights, sounds, and experiences. The secret is, sometimes under all the grime, you find something special, something that was placed here just for you to find.
We walked into the bar a little after 8pm. I was not pleased with the crowds. I believe that everyone and everything carries their own energy and that energy can be exchanged very easily with the simplest interaction. When there are several people in one room, all that energy is running wild and you're absorbing little bits of it here and there. This gets exhausting and my own energy can get drained very quickly. Anyway, moving on, before I get too distracted, We found a place close to a small stage. Was I in the mood to hear some struggling band half heartedly play? No. I wanted to be a good sport so I stayed but found a spot that felt a little more secluded. Here I could hide, well... as well as anyone in a room of several people could hide.
Tucked away I lean against the wall, check my phone, sigh, it's almost 9pm. I'm tired and the girls walking around squeezed into clothing three sizes too small were making me uneasy. Then, the lights dimmed, the room was almost completely black, I felt a slight rush of panic, I don't like this, I clutched my purse tightly and braced myself against my wall, the crowd grew quiet, almost silent. "Did someone slip something into my drink?" I thought to myself, then I heard it, a sound I was not expecting to hear, the sound of a cello! Slow, mournful, beautiful, the notes echoed off the walls. A faint light began to shine down on what till this day I can barely describe. Every time I attempt to put this into words, no justice is done, but here it goes.
Still stunned by the sound, my eyes began to focus on the stage. There under a faint glowing light was Tigan. He sat, looking as if he were a painting come to life, a painting someone put time, passion, love and even their own blood into creating. Pale skin glowing as if the moon were shining directly on him, but we were indoors! Hair darker than ravens wings flowed passed his shoulders and down his chest, I swear it looked as if it were made from the finest silk. His hands skillfully moving along the strings, the bow effortlessly gliding as if guided by a gift from Satan himself. Then he looked up. This is where things get a little fuzzy in my memory. I remember seeing his eyes, glowing green orbs, that seemed to hold secrets and sights from other worlds. Suddenly I couldn't breathe. The room felt empty, the sound of the cello grew louder and I began to feel every note pound in my chest, his eyes locked in my direction, and then I felt numb. For a brief moment I felt nothing, as if everything I've ever felt, every memory I've ever had, was flooding out of my body, like I was being emotionally embalmed. Before I could even begin to try to process what was happening, the music stopped, the crowd began to roar in applause, girls screaming, I felt dizzy.
That night I barely spoke with my friends, I just told them I wasn't feeling well, they wouldn't understand what I had experienced, I didn't even understand it yet. When I returned home, my room was silent but my head wasn't, his music, continued to play, as it were subliminally reminding me to remember him, see him, feel whatever that was over and over again. I tried to focus on other things, I returned to my favorite characters in my books, but they provided no company. I put in my headphones and tried to drown out the sound of the cello with something else, something louder, but it didn't work. I even tried to sleep but all I could see were those green eyes, framed in black. You may laugh at this but I even considered the possibility he may be a supernatural creature! When someone triggers such a primal response within a place you didn't even know existed, you may explore every reason why.
That seems so long ago, and to think, he was going to make many more appearances, not just on stage, but in my life as well, whatever was left of it at this point. So, yeah, that was the first time I saw Tigan.
Falling
Why do they call it "falling" in love? I realize that neither one is planned, but do you want to know what I think? Falling hurts, and you run the risk of causing immeasurable damage. Like breaking a bone, sure it'll eventually heal but it will never be the same. You'll be reminded of that as it aches on cold nights.
What about keeping the secret of falling? You're the only one that can feel the pain, and each time you see that reason you fell in the first place, it's all the more real. Your mind is screaming all the things you want to say but you hear yourself mumbling mundane sentences. You wonder if they can see your heart pounding in your chest, or your thoughts racing. Then, when you're finally alone and surrounded by silence you imagine all the scenarios that could've taken place.
They don't even realize it, the fact that someone's heart is in their hands, that someone's emotions depend on their simple words. They are just living their life, unaware they are being haunted by your unspoken truth. That's what I believe it is, you're both being haunted.
Falling in love is powerful, but sometimes it is so powerful that it is capable of releasing it's own entity. This entity keeps you up at night, it fills your head with fear and doubt, it tortures you. What about the one who is unaware? That's a little different. They know something is in the air, especially when you're around, you may even pop up in their thoughts and dreams and they won't know why.
So why not just tell them and clear the air? Let me explain it like this, when you meet someone so incredible, I'm not talking about someone who is attractive, smart or funny, those are all nice things, but someone who seemed to grasp your entire being in their glance and held it until you began to question your own existence, you can't lose that. Sure we run the risk of feelings not being shared, but so much more is at risk.
When you meet someone who has made you doubt if anything that has happened in your life, up until that moment, even mattered, losing them would seem to make everything from that point on, just, nothing. Remember that broken bone? Well it would be like irreversible nerve damage, you'll never feel anything the same again, your spirit is broken, that's the immeasurable damage I'm talking about. Keeping those feeling are difficult but right now, they are still mine. Except for you reading this, I've told no one. If I were to verbalize it, I don't even know if I would do it justice, how do you describe something so deep and powerful? How do you describe the human soul and what it is capable of without cheapening the magnificence of it all?
What about keeping the secret of falling? You're the only one that can feel the pain, and each time you see that reason you fell in the first place, it's all the more real. Your mind is screaming all the things you want to say but you hear yourself mumbling mundane sentences. You wonder if they can see your heart pounding in your chest, or your thoughts racing. Then, when you're finally alone and surrounded by silence you imagine all the scenarios that could've taken place.
They don't even realize it, the fact that someone's heart is in their hands, that someone's emotions depend on their simple words. They are just living their life, unaware they are being haunted by your unspoken truth. That's what I believe it is, you're both being haunted.
Falling in love is powerful, but sometimes it is so powerful that it is capable of releasing it's own entity. This entity keeps you up at night, it fills your head with fear and doubt, it tortures you. What about the one who is unaware? That's a little different. They know something is in the air, especially when you're around, you may even pop up in their thoughts and dreams and they won't know why.
So why not just tell them and clear the air? Let me explain it like this, when you meet someone so incredible, I'm not talking about someone who is attractive, smart or funny, those are all nice things, but someone who seemed to grasp your entire being in their glance and held it until you began to question your own existence, you can't lose that. Sure we run the risk of feelings not being shared, but so much more is at risk.
When you meet someone who has made you doubt if anything that has happened in your life, up until that moment, even mattered, losing them would seem to make everything from that point on, just, nothing. Remember that broken bone? Well it would be like irreversible nerve damage, you'll never feel anything the same again, your spirit is broken, that's the immeasurable damage I'm talking about. Keeping those feeling are difficult but right now, they are still mine. Except for you reading this, I've told no one. If I were to verbalize it, I don't even know if I would do it justice, how do you describe something so deep and powerful? How do you describe the human soul and what it is capable of without cheapening the magnificence of it all?
Deeaming....again
The room is dark, my eyes are adjusting, I hate this. I can still see him. Have I told you about Tigan yet? No I don't think I have.
This dream, my heart is still pounding. There was a large crowd of people, yet they had no faces, just blank pieces of flesh. That isn't so strange, I tend to see people that way in reality as well. There was a mix of smoke and lights, senseless chatter in the background, someone was laughing a loud obnoxious laugh. I caught a glimpse of him, Tigan, my heart ached and I swear stopped for a moment. His pale skin, his dark hair, he was smiling that beautiful torturous smile. I knew it wasn't for me.
I was trying to walk towards him, one of the faceless passes in front of me and I quickly dart around them. He was gone. My heart sank in disappointment. I felt this urgency, I had to find him. The smoke in the room grew thicker and I felt as if I would suffocate. I find a door and anxiously push my way through. Stepping outside I could feel the bitter cold. I remember thinking to myself, "I wonder if I'm sleepwalking again.". I tend to do that and my dreams reflect what atmosphere I'm in at the time.
I catch sight of him again. He is almost impossible to miss, that skin, guiding me as if it were moonlight. Walking towards him I can feel my legs trembling. I tell myself "Stay steady.". I begin to notice as I'm walking, he is not getting any closer, my legs are moving but carrying me nowhere. I begin to feel too exhausted to move.
The night air was getting colder, painfully cold, I close my eyes to take a deep breath and .......here I am. I picked up my phone to check the time. The screen lights up and hurts my eyes as it snaps me into reality. The time is 3 A.M and it appears I have no messages or missed calls. Why would I? I tossed my phone on the bed and began to write this to you, whoever you are, please stay with me.
This dream, my heart is still pounding. There was a large crowd of people, yet they had no faces, just blank pieces of flesh. That isn't so strange, I tend to see people that way in reality as well. There was a mix of smoke and lights, senseless chatter in the background, someone was laughing a loud obnoxious laugh. I caught a glimpse of him, Tigan, my heart ached and I swear stopped for a moment. His pale skin, his dark hair, he was smiling that beautiful torturous smile. I knew it wasn't for me.
I was trying to walk towards him, one of the faceless passes in front of me and I quickly dart around them. He was gone. My heart sank in disappointment. I felt this urgency, I had to find him. The smoke in the room grew thicker and I felt as if I would suffocate. I find a door and anxiously push my way through. Stepping outside I could feel the bitter cold. I remember thinking to myself, "I wonder if I'm sleepwalking again.". I tend to do that and my dreams reflect what atmosphere I'm in at the time.
I catch sight of him again. He is almost impossible to miss, that skin, guiding me as if it were moonlight. Walking towards him I can feel my legs trembling. I tell myself "Stay steady.". I begin to notice as I'm walking, he is not getting any closer, my legs are moving but carrying me nowhere. I begin to feel too exhausted to move.
The night air was getting colder, painfully cold, I close my eyes to take a deep breath and .......here I am. I picked up my phone to check the time. The screen lights up and hurts my eyes as it snaps me into reality. The time is 3 A.M and it appears I have no messages or missed calls. Why would I? I tossed my phone on the bed and began to write this to you, whoever you are, please stay with me.
Hello?
These words are proof of my existence. As long as I am writing this I am real or was real. I’m really not sure anymore. Let me start from the beginning, or maybe this was the end, the end of my sanity at least.
I originally started writing this as a simple diary, a basic account of day to day life, yet now there seems to be only an endless night, constant darkness and I’m afraid if I stop writing, I may stop existing all together. These words are the only thing I can look at and know for certain.
I really don’t even know who I’m writing this to. Whoever is reading it by now I suppose. If these lines fall in front of the eyes of complete strangers I don’t mind, the truth is everyone is a stranger to anyone at some point in life. Just think of the word stranger, we are all strange in one way or another. I’d rather be called strange than normal, no one thinks twice about what is considered normal, but if you’re strange, you’re a mystery and everyone loves a good mystery.
My own name is a mystery, chosen from within the epic poem The Raven. I am Lenore, yes, named after the lost Lenore from Poe’s tortured words. Named after a ghost, a memory, this has always troubled me.
Why this name was chosen for me I’ll never know. My mother passed before I was old enough to understand the origin and my father really never understood why it was so important I carried the name, he just obeyed my mother’s wishes. There are few things I remember about her, I’m not too fond of remembering things, the mind has a way of twisting and contorting what the eyes capture. Sometimes a memory sneaks up on you, cradles you and makes you feel warm, right before it eases the blade of reality through an already scarred heart. Yet those brief moments of tranquility it offered is enough to make you foolishly welcome it again and again. Memories are useless things, even if I try not to keep them, they’re always there.
I have researched Poe’s work and studied his words in hopes I would understand who Lenore actually was, before she became this agonizing, unreachable, force. There were theories that she was the mother of a childhood friend of Poe. Regardless of who she was, it is who she became that is remarkable. Someone who inspired such love and such pain, that a person spends most of their life trying to extinguish it with ink on paper
I have always been fascinated by the ability of one mere mortal to do this to another. There are many types of relationships, many types of love, many of both come and go, Many words are spoken and promises broken, but there is always that "one”. You immediately understand because while reading these words you felt it, right there in that spot of the soul that was formed by that "one" and has remained theirs alone. We as humans are capable of amazing things; there have been advances in science, medicine and technology way beyond even our parents’ expectations. Our bodies and minds have remarkable protection and preservation abilities, yet love, true uncontrollable love, a mere emotion, can trigger our own self destruction like nothing else. Passion is one of the greatest threats to a person’s sanity.
I know this because I’ve experienced it and am still experiencing it at this very moment. As I said these words are the only things I can be sure of anymore. I understand the saying "like a moth to a flame" think about it, something so beautiful and warm, your basic instinct is to gravitate towards it, but you soon discover it's destructive and painful. You know it cannot end well but you are willing to risk it, to be close to what you feel is perfection , for one moment of true happiness even if it may be your last. If you think about it, this is all just chemical reactions in our bodies that trigger emotions but I believe there is more to it than this, what surrounds us, the events that occur, the timing they occur in, these all cannot be just random acts. There is more, there has to be, no, there needs to be, why else would I keep writing this, why else would you keep reading?
I originally started writing this as a simple diary, a basic account of day to day life, yet now there seems to be only an endless night, constant darkness and I’m afraid if I stop writing, I may stop existing all together. These words are the only thing I can look at and know for certain.
I really don’t even know who I’m writing this to. Whoever is reading it by now I suppose. If these lines fall in front of the eyes of complete strangers I don’t mind, the truth is everyone is a stranger to anyone at some point in life. Just think of the word stranger, we are all strange in one way or another. I’d rather be called strange than normal, no one thinks twice about what is considered normal, but if you’re strange, you’re a mystery and everyone loves a good mystery.
My own name is a mystery, chosen from within the epic poem The Raven. I am Lenore, yes, named after the lost Lenore from Poe’s tortured words. Named after a ghost, a memory, this has always troubled me.
Why this name was chosen for me I’ll never know. My mother passed before I was old enough to understand the origin and my father really never understood why it was so important I carried the name, he just obeyed my mother’s wishes. There are few things I remember about her, I’m not too fond of remembering things, the mind has a way of twisting and contorting what the eyes capture. Sometimes a memory sneaks up on you, cradles you and makes you feel warm, right before it eases the blade of reality through an already scarred heart. Yet those brief moments of tranquility it offered is enough to make you foolishly welcome it again and again. Memories are useless things, even if I try not to keep them, they’re always there.
I have researched Poe’s work and studied his words in hopes I would understand who Lenore actually was, before she became this agonizing, unreachable, force. There were theories that she was the mother of a childhood friend of Poe. Regardless of who she was, it is who she became that is remarkable. Someone who inspired such love and such pain, that a person spends most of their life trying to extinguish it with ink on paper
I have always been fascinated by the ability of one mere mortal to do this to another. There are many types of relationships, many types of love, many of both come and go, Many words are spoken and promises broken, but there is always that "one”. You immediately understand because while reading these words you felt it, right there in that spot of the soul that was formed by that "one" and has remained theirs alone. We as humans are capable of amazing things; there have been advances in science, medicine and technology way beyond even our parents’ expectations. Our bodies and minds have remarkable protection and preservation abilities, yet love, true uncontrollable love, a mere emotion, can trigger our own self destruction like nothing else. Passion is one of the greatest threats to a person’s sanity.
I know this because I’ve experienced it and am still experiencing it at this very moment. As I said these words are the only things I can be sure of anymore. I understand the saying "like a moth to a flame" think about it, something so beautiful and warm, your basic instinct is to gravitate towards it, but you soon discover it's destructive and painful. You know it cannot end well but you are willing to risk it, to be close to what you feel is perfection , for one moment of true happiness even if it may be your last. If you think about it, this is all just chemical reactions in our bodies that trigger emotions but I believe there is more to it than this, what surrounds us, the events that occur, the timing they occur in, these all cannot be just random acts. There is more, there has to be, no, there needs to be, why else would I keep writing this, why else would you keep reading?
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