Letters to a Fetishist Vol. IV

Letter 6:

Fear is the mind killer

I cannot see the moon tonight. I cannot see its smirking and wrathful grin or its halo of pseudo-permanence. It hides from me as if I know its ancient secrets and disturb its inherent belonging in the sky. There is no reason for this absurdity as I can no longer describe myself, let alone unveil the mysteries locked inside this lost divinity. Before I was sure of my impetuousness and the feeling of freedom gifted to me by my innate ability to ignore the cracks in my soul. Now I am bound.

I am a marionette attached by strings of infinite suffering to the frail hand of my capture. The hand moves me in strange and awkward ways that disintegrate the illusions I have bound myself to for so long. The shock of reality being ripped apart and reforming in front of my eyes is painfully amazing in the worst and best of ways. I realize now that I am merely a shadow of an object far bigger than myself, nothing more than the absence of a light source. My salvation is my undoing in that I can now see another shadow of this object. It looks at me with contempt and grave audacity. I fear this shadow. I fear it will destroy me but I can't look away.

I am no longer an anomie and I cannot say I want to return. The ardent creature I have become will not allow me to miss my former self and is forever changed by the alchemy of its own intrinsic design. These new self discoveries have terrifying repercussions and will forever change my perceptions. I have been destroyed. A new consciousness takes my place.