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I hardly think I would shoot myself...
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Sep. 8th, 2006 @ 01:15 am
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| You Are The Lovers | 
You represent ideal love: innocence, trust, exhilaration and joy.
You demonstrate the harmony of opposites, two sides coming together.
At times, you also represent the struggle between what is right and what is tempting.
Control is an issue for you, especially when you don't know your reasons for choosing something.
Your fortune:
You have an important choice you need to make about love, and it will be a difficult choice to make.
You are likely struggling between the love you crave and the love that is right.
In the end, you will choose what you crave, even if it's bad for you.
Because without what you crave, you will feel empty and incomplete. |
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You block your dream when you allow your fear to grow bigger than your faith.
-Mary Manin Morrissey |
| » The girl with the Broken smile |
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On Olympus within the expansive walls of Zeus' palace the three Moirae shared a sector of their own at the request of the king who wished to keep them close by. Each attended to their specific functions as destiny before the eternal loom dressed in their own personalized choice of clothes underneath their traditional white robes.
While they toiled there was a twinge of guilt laced pain that razored into the core of Atropos' old soul with the gathering of information that she received bouncing telepathically off of one particular immortal's thread under the care of Lachesis' vigilant eye. She felt the violent vibration of the thread against her withered old fingers as she extended her fingers to thrum it. Atropos' hoary hand which resembled the texture of soft leather withdrew from the loom with a sudden jerk; droplets of sanguine falling and spotting damp the linen fabric stretched across her sandaled toes. It put a damper on her mood and bitterness now clung to her countenance like a thicket of mold as her timeworn eyes finished beholding what distorted vision had came to pass callously before her in a flash that the other two in her company had also seen.
It was just another end in her opinion. The erote Anteros had forgotten about them. "Now," the crone silently thought, "If the girls could only forget about him as easily, then it would make all our lives and doing the job a whole lot less dramatic!" This wasn't the profession for drama! Drama slowed everything down and Fate was all about the process of getting people's lives moving! Albeit other people's lives while their own lives stayed rather frozen and stagnant, but Atropos accepted her place in this world. Exercising professionalism and prudence were basic principals of her stratagem. She certainly did not care to go off chasing after waterfalls or rainbows nor did she care to constantly watch after the affairs of a unfortunately spoiled cherub who didn't get everything he wanted. If she could have said anything to the young Anteros it would have been: "Tough luck with the girls, but that's life kid. The sooner you can learn it and get over it the better off we'll all be. I'm not getting any younger and you're beginning to get on my nerves Sonny."
With shears still in her bony clutches her hands returned to the loom and she snipped a selected number of mortal threads tediously without much care and said, "And so it has come to pass."
"You know it is for the best," she added without missing a beat flippantly to her associates.
And without any conviction at all, her weary eyes searched out The Mother who was a blur before their dry lenses.
Lachesis faintly traced the vindictive one's thread with delicate pining fingers and a rueful sigh of guilt sliding from her lips; there was guilt for all the things left unsaid between them. But why did she sigh? Why cry and sigh when what more could she had said? What more could she had said or did that would have not been a waste of effort on her part? She was The Mother and she'd never share what was hers with another again, she'd never stand for it and should have put her foot down when he'd canoodled with Peitho and Flidais. How could any self respecting woman share the man she loved with another woman?
She had known him, had watched him through the ages when he wasn't suspecting and knew what debauchery he was capable of reveling in, so why did she ever take the plunge? What did she see in him? Why did she ever love him? That too was because she had known him well; she had fallen in love with his insatiable desire to be loved and give love. Anteros was so hungry and thristy for it that it spoke to her nurturing side and she had wanted nothing more than to give him what he had starved for, but she found at last she alone could not quench his thirst for...more. He had good intentions and meant his enduring words when he had spoken them to her, but she should have allowed Atropos had it been offered to give her a good kick in the pants for ever believing she could "change," the parts about him she found undesirable. But even now she questioned herself about giving up on him: "Was it really all that unrealistic? Why couldn't I change him?" She held "change" within her meticulous fingertips as much as the maiden Clotho held creation. It devastated her pride, knowing she alone was not enough despite his declarations to her that he had wanted to change. Wanting and doing were just too different and although he desired, Anteros did not do.
Unknown to Clotho, "Chase," as Anteros had affectionately nicked her was envious of what the little spinner had shared with the wretched erote, envious that she could not have that same freedom in love and that everything could not be as exciting and new for her as it was for Clotho. Ignorance could indeed be blissful, or at least was if you were a lovesick maiden who had the heart of your unattainable lust.
Her moist eyes hugged his thread a little longer and while she had known that this would come to pass, watching it unfold and helping it along, she could not have prepared herself for the actuality of it even though it must be and was. Her contribution hurt, but it really was for the best. He might not be a bother after this. But the realization hurt...the realization that she wasn't even a memory. Again she had to convince herself that it was all for the best.
"Aisa, He and I are no more. I do not wish to speak about it. I ask that you speak of it no more. We can not change the course," she said withdrawing her fingers from Anteros' immortal thread and yet she could not help but turn her head. Her face framed by the white of her hood visually appeared to glow as she looked at the one she had envied, the one who silently wept before the loom, morning the loss of being forgotten.
"Do not weep child, there is nothing more you can do. It is out of your hands."
Clotho who spun lives into creation, wished she could have so easily created her own. She felt trapped by what she was and was not as hardened as the other two sisters who directed fate. However, like the eternal youth that she was, she desired constant attention even if she was really just a coy girl blushing under compliment. She desired to have a bountiful of friends and was found wanting, she desired to be wanted and felt too isolated to accomplish meeting others who would want her as Anteros had wanted her, and she had fancied the way it had made her feel to know how much he had loved her even though she wanted for those things with someone somewhere again. In truth she was completely flattered that Anteros had held the flame of passion for her as long as he had and despite his love turning sour and contemptible toward her she wanted him to continue remembering it! He had to remember it! She wanted him to remember them. To remember her! She felt so connected to and disconnected from the world all at once. It was a perpetually confusing world for her, being considered so young and naive, and being anything but and remembering him? Remembering what they had shared and how passionately they had loved had kept her aspirations alive. Remembering him had made her feel like so much more was possible! She had begin to feel like the things she had wanted for herself were obtainable again. And..him remembering her? Had made her feel important and while she was important as the spinner she was not often remembered as important. But Anteros...he'd remembered...
But now...
She'd been robbed of that. They'd been robbed of "knowing," each other again. Were they cursed? Would this continue to go on? This...One of them not remembering the other?
And suddenly she was overwhelmed with sympathy and pity for she had an inkling of how he must have felt when she had forgotten about them, and understood how that could have made him hate her over time. But it wasn't her fault! She would have never been able to have made him understand that! That she had to drink of Lethe! They were all so fearful back then of change, Zeus and her sisters were fearful that it would muck things up. What could she had done? It was ordered that she drink of the cup of Lethe! She felt like the helpless child who was made to give away her puppy by her strict parent's unreasonable decree all over again. But if Anteros were to remember? Would he then understand how she could have forgot?
"Oh Morta," she sighed while dabbing at her eyes with a white handkerchief.
"It might," she sniffled. "It might be best for him." Her grieving voice dropped, "He'll not suffer so much."
Her words had a venomous edge that cut through her grief: "Suffer for what was denied us."
"And I know I can't change it Deci," she glared toward the mother defiantly!
"I know it doesn't grieve you, that I can't," she paused.
"That doesn't stop it from stinging."
The Crone and The Mother each gave the other an apprehensive look, hoping they would not have to endure the Maiden's pubescent spite for long this day.
A few days later Anteros wrote in his journal...
August 2006,
I awoke tonight from out of a dream. I suppose what I dreamt about was really my own fault and of my own making after lying down to slumber with thoughts of what Peitho had said on my mind. I wondered about what she had told me about Lachesis and Clotho and whether that if it were indeed all true? I don't mean to suggest that Peitho is lying to me, but then why couldn't I remember either of them? How can you simply not remember who you have loved?
Love is an emotion, a feeling--how can you simply forget that? For me it would be like forgetting how to breathe, and yet she assures me I've forgotten and in all honesty I've enough proof within my own heart that she is indeed telling the truth. You see, there is this gaping hole in my heart where love for someone used to be, an emptiness in my soul that I know was at one time not empty at all. I was whole at one time, I know it and yet my pain chases this fleeting apparition without a face.
I know I didn't think it was possible, but here I am forgetful of my love for two whom Peitho told me was of vast importance to me. She said that when Lachesis and I were together it was like "nothing else mattered to us," and "it was the way it should be." I have to admit that after she put it like that I couldn't help but imagine how it must have been and I suppose I lost myself in the fantasy of it but, when I dreamt? I dreamt of chasing a faceless woman through a garden maze of roses bleeding their crimson petals. When I caught up to her she was standing to admire a spider's web covered in drops of dew. I reach out, touched her shoulder and as she turned her shrouded head I beheld her face and I saw that she wasn't a woman at all...but a girl with a beautiful smile that shattered before the sight of me. Feeling a desire to kiss her frown from her face when I went in to kiss her I felt a terrible sting upon my lips as if they had been cut on broken glass. Pulling back I watched her lovely image shatter into shards of rose coloured translucent glass. The glimpse I saw of her was lovely, but she fell away from me all too quickly.
~Anteros
Aug. 7th, 2006 @ 03:43 am
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| » If... |
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If...
If I could only escape...
The ghosts...
There are so many, but it all started with Timagoras.
Each night my lethargic spirit takes flight and descends into an unfortunate kingdom ruled by those unruly children of sleep that my heart secretly fears.
Induced in dream I am not always aware that they are there, but there are times I feel the sting of deamon breath, in which I am well acquainted, against my subconscious ear chanting their provoking words. They sing to me a lullaby of my celestial sins, conjuring up inciting images of blood and tears.
My soul screams against their torture of my languid mind and while I admit that I am often sullen and vain I do not understand for the eternal life of me what doth Morpheus holds against me? What harm have I ever done him?
I've awoken myself with the sound of my own pleading words, beseeching of his mercy if he knows any and asking why he must convict me each and every night of crimes I was appointed to commit.
Each night I am cursed to die in my dreams.
I often wonder...
If...I could only forget about him, and the first time his tears beckoned me to come to him? Could I rest peacefully in sleep?
If... I could only wipe the remains of his prayer from my soul and his terrible demise? Would he and others like him cease to haunt me so?
If... I could only wash the blood of Meles from my hands.Would Morpheus would paint me a different dream?
Jul. 6th, 2006 @ 04:50 am
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| » Topic: When I woke the next morning... |
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When I woke the next morning I couldn't see much of anything.
I couldn't see the rays of light shining through the partially open window blinds. There was no mistake, it was morning, that much my digital clock informed me of in neon. However, still I was very much so engulfed in the darkness that spilled over from the previous night.
So I was awake, but the sun had not yet lit the sky ablaze to relieve the moon. The moon was not the only one who had not been relieved.
I turned my head to my right and couldn't see the ruddy cheeks that had blushed for me when I had been flattering or the shimmering pink lips I'd kissed the night before when in my desperation for company I'd went out hunting for not so much what I longed for, but something that would fill the gap momentarily. There was no replacement for what I sought, but my heart, my soul, and primarily my body so aching with need convinced myself in its entirety that for a few hours I could pretend.
But as I stared at the indented pillow next to mine I realized an incredulous, but most definite truth; the girl had left me before morning, possibly after I had drifted off to sleep.
One night stands are not as satisfying as you would believe.
I couldn't see what the day would bring or the next day after, but the one thing I did know was that I was single again and because of a reliance on a lover to feel like I belong somewhere? I once again felt misplaced.
Muse: Anteros
Fandom: Myth
Jun. 10th, 2006 @ 10:57 pm
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| » One father to another... |
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After the blowing out of the candles at Antigone's birthday party Anteros had decided to take his leave, not in party spirits and returned home to mull over Antigone's uncanny behavior. He wondered why she had behaved so erratically and actually he'd been meaning to speak with Hermes about a few things that had been bothering him since reviving Hermes from death so that he could hopefully either resolve some of his issues or move along...
Having no idea where Hermes and Peitho had moved after waking up in an empty Hampton's home on a previous occasion Anteros faded from his Santa Monica home and arrived at Hermes temple on Olympus just inside the lobby calling softly for the other god, "Hermes? Are you here?"
Jun. 4th, 2006 @ 12:07 am
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| » Write about mother (your own or someone else's). |
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I found myself on the tip of my toes cautiously trying to boost myself up enough. After several failed attempts I finally found my footing within a hollow cove of broken clay so that I could spy through the window of the bungalow where I knew my mother was lodged with her lover. In attempting to peer through the window and hoping to gain her attention without stirring her lover I was fighting quite the strenuous battle and losing my footing? I slipped and hit my chin against the sill.
Forcing back tears from the pain I again engaged my self in action and using my cherubic wings fluttered up enough to latch onto the side of the sill and barely sit myself on the ledge.
I was usually not so coy and elusive when it came time to approach my mother for anything, but this one she bedded with was not my father who while I found him intimidating was a familiar intimidation.
I gazed upon her partially nude form entangled in another’s arms, flaxen locks as fluidic to gaze upon as honey appeared to be flowing in waves above her pretty sleeping head.
I needed to wake her, I needed her to hold me in her arms because I had a bad dream and in her arms like the lover she held was the only haven I knew. I wished to wake her...to see her oceanic orbs of blue flutter open and see me needing her in the windowsill. To help take the bad dreams away...
I wanted to wake her...but I was afraid of waking her lover.
She was taking his bad dreams away too.
May. 20th, 2006 @ 12:53 am
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| » TM Questions |
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Close your eyes and think about what you've been missing in your life lately. It could be a person, pet, place, thing, occasion, feeling. Anything at all that you miss dearly.
Lately, when I close my eyes I am haunted by this deadening void that I find there. It's like I'm pushed up against a black wall by some unknown force and there is nothing else to see but the wall that is before me; there is nothing to dream but the very real nightmares that you live. It is terrifying to slip into the hollowness of your own thoughts and realize how far your stars have fallen from the sky. For in that place of solitude behind shut lids I think of everything that I've missed and everything that I am missing. I think of what-ifs: What if I could happy someday? I mean really happy, happy for more than a moment that flees all too soon? And I think of what could have been: It could have been so wonderful if it would have turned out like I'd aspired.
I think it's fair to say that I've been missing quite a few things in my life lately. Among them? Fun. I've been missing fun in my dysfunctional life lately to the point where I wonder? Is fun is a mythological concept?
Fortune: Some people have it, some people seek it, some claim to predict it, and some say that it favors the brave. Write a ficlette inspired by the word "fortune."
On a dreary day in London there was this woman in a long fashionable trench-coat and a felt chapeau that I met in the entrance way at Hyde Park leaning in a gateway with a petite spaniel on a lead. I thought she was quite the belle and she appeared to have been sobbing which was evident from the trail of waterlogged mascara staining her cheeks? I stopped to ask the bird if she was alright, my ears eagerly seeking her name and she said something to the avail of: "You know Sir, life isn't too funny? I've worked all my life to try to earn the prestige that should accompany my family's money, but for all fairness doesn't. And it doesn't even matter. Not to me. Not now."
I asked: "It doesn't? Than pardon me if I am to be so prying, but why do you cry?"
And she said: "I'm just a poor little rich girl and for all my fortune I should be fortunate, but I'm not so fortunate. Earlier this morning I went to see my physician and… I'm dying."
Her name was Rayne.
Generally speaking, how do you think others perceive you?
Generally speaking I suppose I think that most of those who are acquainted with me one way or another would either perceive me as being love's little prick, pun and innuendo fully intended," he smirked.
"Or someone…"his voice faltered, briefly lapsing for the uncertainty that his next words before they had been uttered created in his mind.
"Or someone worth loving, someone worth giving a damn about and someone who is worth giving your heart to even if I may unintentionally break it? I want to be someone worth those whom I may harm forgiveness because despite my pompous front I am and possibly will always remain a very kind hearted and compassionate deity by nature. Probably, anyway because parish the thought that I may not be worth being loved even by those who would dare, parish the thought even more so if I am not worthy of it, none would dare and I may have to do without. Prick or not, being a creature of love with so much love to give it this statement may reflect just how self absorbed I am, but what would be more tragic? What is more tragic then having love to give and not being able to give it to anyone? Contradictory perhaps, but really its not.
~The Unrequited
Muse: Anteros
Fandom: Myth
Apr. 29th, 2006 @ 05:09 am
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| » TM Questions |
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Question: At times, lots of people never tell us what they are really thinking. Who is the one person that you would really like to know what they are thinking (as far as how they feel about you), and why?
I'm not positively sure if I have touched on this subject before, although I feel as if I have came close on several occasions to doing just that. I've had ponderings concerning whether Fate thought of me in the past, such ponderings used to consume me to the point that I used to attempt to live so vigorously and destructively, like a flame devouring sylvan green. I lived with such ferocious passion as if to draw her attention so that I may have discovered what she thought of me. Tis fair to say that I'd always assumed wrongly since she never responded to my outlandish behavior, that she never thought much of me and if she did think of me in those days…
It was done in vain.
However, lately…
Or at least now that I suspect that Chase and I are not fated to reunite…although I miss her and pine for the ghosts of the past still…
I find myself thinking about what others think of me, mainly Peitho, Antigone, and Hermes.
I wonder if Peitho has forgiven me…
I wonder if Antigone still thinks of me as she did when she first fell in love with me.
And I possibly wonder what Hermes thinks of me most of all and I can't tell you why.
I used to not care, I wish I still didn't care…
Question:What does your dream home look like?
I used to have a dream home eons ago. It was located on an isle near my childhood home of Cyprus before many mortals populated the main island, before those of us who had enjoyed our privacy and solace made ourselves scarce on Cyprus to escape the consistent conflicts that mortals brought with them to our home. Before something died inside of me…
It was but a small island, veiled from the eyes of mortals, still veiled from their eyes and on it was but a simple temple made of marble, mortar and stone like any other deified being's self made adobe. What made it my dream home wasn't what it looked it, what it was made of or what materials it had in it. It wasn't the stunning location on a craggy hilltop overlooking the azure sea that was but a few shades darker than the sky come mid-day. It wasn't the perfect view of my Mother Aphrodite's rock at what they call present day Paphos which gave me the security that she was always within reach if I ever need to speak with her.
No, what made it my dream home was the love I experienced while I was there. It was perfect while it existed.
It's hard to forget a first love…but I suppose all things can become a possibility given the right conditions. I don't think I'll ever forget about her.
If I had another dream home, I suppose the same thing would matter to me over what it looked like. Home is where your heart feels safe and desires to be when you are away, and for it to be an ideal dream it must be with who you desire to love you and give yours to.
Shouldn't we all have such dream homes?
Question:Did you ever intentionally make a complete fool out of yourself while fully realizing what you were doing?
I suppose I very well have. You see I am a fool for love and if anything can make a fool out of you? It is love trust me. Actually I've possibly made a fool out of myself on several occasions that I am not aware that I made a fool out of myself, but I'd like to think that anytime I do make a fool out of myself, knowingly or not that the sacrifice to my pride and dignity as well as the great risk I often take are well worth it for something as worth experiencing as love.
I remember possibly one of the most foolish things I've ever done to win favor in a girl's eyes was when I was traveling through France. I had attended the young Queen Marie Antoinette's Versailles court accompanied with a lovely lady whom was insulted by a vulgar man of rather ill repute. As I understood it he was among those that spread rumors against their Queen and so it was that my lady pointed him out to me at court. The following day I challenged the bloke to a duel in defense of the lady's honor when he refused to make apology without ever having experienced firing a pistol until then.
Muse: Anteros
Fandom: Greek myth
Mar. 28th, 2006 @ 10:28 pm
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| » Poster meme |
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( Look what I made... )
Mar. 17th, 2006 @ 03:10 pm
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| » TM: Write about your father |
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Anteros thinks he needs a drink before he is able to answer this question because he is terribly conflicted deciding how to even begin. While he removes a glass from the cupboard he peers over the selection of wines he has stocked at his home bar and decides none will suffice. Fetching a bottle of 1924 Doisy Daene from his wine cellar with the snap of his fingers he fills the goblet to the brim before he even realizes it. Cautiously he stoops to ravenously sip up with parched lips the top off, dreading that his movements may jar the goblet enough to spill a drop.
Seconds later he continues accommodating his self by making his self as comfortable as possible on his couch. Taking his time to ponder the question further while enjoying the saccharine taste of his wine he picks up the laptop that is lying beside of him on the couch and types in his journal: "Ares was the only father I ever knew growing up between Olympus and Cypress other than taking quite the likening to my mother's lover Adonis who was becoming quite the father figure before his hunting accident."
He waivers from the subject of Adonis and his accident, "While Ares was quite the fixture in my life in the early days, over the centuries we have become distant, so distant in fact that I am not sure whether I know him anymore at all or him I. As a cherub I remember that his voice could be as soft as it was booming and firm at other times, but his presence more often than not was intimidating to me despite his softer side."
"But he wasn't a bad daddy, just because I was a wee bit afraid of him, to the contrary. I remember that he taught me how to use my first bow and shoot arrows; I was such a lousy shot for the longest time because I lacked the motor skills to take coordinated aim. Ares was quite patient with me though."
"And he gifted me with the first puppy I ever had---- Basto. And when he wasn't busy with his operations then he was around."
Pausing: "He was there. That is important. To make yourself available to your children."
He sighed with a twinge of sadness deciding to move on with it: "After I left Olympus we didn't see very much of each other and I wonder if he as others I did love, did not forget about me all together…"
Taking a larger gulp of his wine he paused before continuing to type: "My mum revealed to me recently that Hermes is actually my biological father. I can't say this was pleasing news to hear. He's a rogue you know? I may steal hearts, but he actually steals things. That is quiet dishonest. He stole my car and then my girlfriend. As much as he'll argue that she was his first, the point is she was mine then, but then it was his retaliation I suppose for bedding Antigone. I'm sure he regrets it now that his heart is troubled---"
Deciding not to linger on that, he took on an aloof front: "He's never liked me very much and I doubt he ever will. I'm not sure what else there is I should write about him!"
Muse: Anteros
Fandom: Myth
Mar. 10th, 2006 @ 07:59 am
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| » TM: Write about a time you mocked someone? |
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You know what? I try not to take such derisive liberties with others for if I am truly true to myself with being what I am, I naturally possess an ardent distaste for people who flagrantly disregard and mock love. And so it is that when I am paying attention to my own actions I usually try to veer myself away from emulating an attitude or behavior that I think poorly of others for possessing or displaying.
However, I am a very flawed god I'll admit and although I do not enjoy in partaking in it, I too am guilty of mockery.
Sometimes Momus' influence possesses you before you realize it, needless to say you're not always ethically conscious of what you are doing, that is the pain you are causing in making a bit of fun or having a bit of sport at some poor wretch's expense.
With that being said I suppose my guilt lies with my brothers, for my twin and I always did have a bit of ridiculing jab at them.
Care for an example? There was something that we did to Pothos in retaliation of something he did to us and while Pothos isn't my brother by blood, he is my brother in my heart of hearts despite his queer ways and his even odder obsession with Himeros.
Anteros tries to keep from beaming after his little diatribe of mockery but can't help his self when remembering the way Pothos looked bound to a plank spread eagle with feathers arranged where feathers do not belong. Laughter was building in his gut: "Still yet, Pothos was the most ridiculous turkey I've ever laid eyes on."
Muse: Anteros
Fandom: Myth
Mar. 10th, 2006 @ 02:37 am
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ant_eros's journal