personality wrote:there is a feeling one gets when they step into an empty room, a pang of longing that rests deep in the soul, a resonating sound of nostalgia echoing deep in our bones. nobody quite knows where it comes from, whether it rises from our brains jumping gaps like frogs into streams, or from some ancient collective unconscious that slumbers like an ancient titan, only awoken by the powerful pang of absence, or from some other secret place that is yet unknown to us.
there is something about these places, too, that seem to almost compel us to reveal our deepest secrets. when we find ourselves completely alone, surrounded by the unknown, we are almost comforted by speaking something familiar into the unfamiliar space. forbidden loves, wasted moments, treasonous acts: they all float in these liminal spaces, the space between what we know and what we don't.
theon walks in these places. he walks the line between life and death, a tightrope act where he dwells in the land of the living, surrounded by that which makes life unlivable. unable to see these empty places, see into our empty souls, he listens, instead, using his ears to pick up on every tiny secret.
he is compassionate, even empathetic to our plights, but he, like any god, knows he must not interfere. even he does not dare to intertwine himself with the fates, preferring instead to be just out of sight, listening but not acting on all that he hears. he is resolute in his decisions, and while he feels grief like any other, he feels no anguish.
it is his destiny to remain neutral.
so, in these spaces, next time you walk across an empty room, or feel yourself compelled to whisper your secrets to the void in the middle of the night, know you are not alone. it is quite likely that theon sits, resolute, sure, compassionate, neutral, with ears pricked and mind wide open, ready to hear the story you have to tell.
it would have been better if i had not wrote:
i am the whisper in your ear
the small voice telling you to speak
the one urging you to break through your bones
bust out of your mind
escape the prison that is a body
run away from your troubles
and run to me
i will be waiting patiently
around every corner
whispering inside every breeze
i am what reminds you that you are alive
the prickling sensation
everytime you walk into a room
that you are not alone
a performer lost in the shadows of his act
an actor washed up in his performance
so, all i ask from you is to
pour out your soul to me
present it in small, easy-to-swallow cups
give it to me, bit by bit, as though you were feeding a hungry dog
an animal watching each morsel with my hungry eyes
a throat waiting to swallow every word you feed me
starved for attention am i
walking in the shadows waiting for you to feed me
tell me secrets, yours,
and i will tell you mine
