The Dark Desert

My life used to be magical. It felt that way at least. I used to see so much life, so much energy coursing through the world. I used to be a knight, hoping to one day be a hero. I was living in an oasis, and I don’t know if I wandered to far, or if the sun ate the vibrant plants around me, but everything changed after a kiss of true love. I’m stuck in a lonely world of ash and sand.

My life used to be magical. It felt that way at least. I used to see so much life, so much energy coursing through the world. I used to be a knight, hoping to one day be a hero. I was living in an oasis, and I don’t know if I wandered to far, or if the sun ate the vibrant plants around me, but everything changed after a kiss of true love. I’m stuck in a lonely world of ash and sand.

My swords haven’t been used in a while. My fighting skills are diminishing. I can feel myself struggling to stay alive, but this desert is too hot for armor. I’ve had to abandon everything I once was, everything I once cared for, to walk this valley. I don’t know why I’m walking, but no one is here with me. I don’t see anything but the dark horizon. The sun is setting, it’s golden rays of hope are no longer harming me. I’m just alone is this dark desert.

With this time, I think about my weaknesses. I have many flaws, one of them being attachment. I’m to naive, as I’ve trusted people to walk with me, but they’re no longer here. Perhaps they were never there, just hallucinations. I am very stubborn, I could turn around and find my way back, but there is no guarantee of an oasis, so I continue walking. Lastly, I have too much love to give. Maybe that’s why they’ve turned away. It’s too much to handle. I’m too much to handle. It doesn’t matter, I can finally sleep.

The sun is returning with it’s golden rays of hope. They’re hot, but at least I’ll be able to see where I’m going. I have to wake up, I have to find the oasis that awaits me.

Warrior Within

I have this fire within me, and if I don’t have a way to deal with it, an outlet, it will consume me with it’s flames. When I fight, I feel its energy, it’s heat, coursing through my veins, fueling me instead of burning me.

I have this fire within me, and if I don’t have a way to deal with it, an outlet, it will consume me within it’s flames. When I fight, I feel its energy, it’s heat, coursing through my veins, fueling me instead of burning me. I don’t know if this fire is anger, or pain, I don’t know. But I feel most like myself when I fight, in the heat of the moment where every movement and decision matters.

I’m usually the one kicking ass in tournaments, but even when I’m losing, even when I know I’ll be defeated, I helplessly smile. I go to have fun, but more importantly, to prove my strength and courage, and no matter what, I always know I tried my hardest. I fight till the end, all while making friends in these tournaments.

I can never sit still. I always have to be up and active. Even when I write these blog posts, I feel the urge to get up and move around every couple paragraphs. The energy is persistent, and the fire burns me when I stand still. Others can’t keep up with me, sometimes I’m to much, to active, and it sucks. I wish people felt what I felt, this drive, this energy that makes me want to accomplish everything in one day.

My closet is full of swords and weapons. My favorite one, my first sword, is from my last tournament when I got first place in sparring and second place in forms. It’s a longsword, and it’s sharp as hell. But I can’t use it. There’s no reason to in today’s world, and it sucks. No dragons. No ninjas. But at least I have it incase of a break in or robbery I suppose. Just Imagine the look on that burglars face when I whip out my medieval sword.

Martial arts is my passion. I know taekwondo and I’m practicing karate, kickboxing, and brazilian jiu jitsu. Well at least I was, I’m taking a few weeks off to save up for a car. One of my goals along with moving to New York is to learn Kungfu. I feel like it’s more fluid and circular motions/ movements would fit best with my body frame and fighting style. Another goal I have is to practice parkour. I want to incorporate flips and vaults into my fighting, to look cool in competitions and for real life situations to intimidate my opponents (and to be flashy with it).

The point is, find your passion, find where your fire leads you to, even if it’s to the trophy stands. I don’t know if everyone feels the fire that I do, but we all have a soul, and your soul will find it’s passion. You have a destiny waiting to be created. I’ll find mine eventually.

Challenge of Change

I keep getting this feeling that something is coming, as if things are about to change. I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing, but I’ve already noticed some changes taking place. It seems like I was right. No matter what some people think, I’m not what they think I am.

It turns out that I’ve been dealing with bipolar. And that makes sense, my mom has it severely, my dad… I’m pretty sure he was severely depressed, something I’ve also been dealing with. Look, the truth is I’ve got a lot of things from my parents, but I was never autistic. As much as I love my mom, there’s no convincing her of that. Just recently, I’ve had my therapist confirm that I’m not, and take into account that she’s had a masters in psychology and counseling for over 17 years now. I’ve had oracles and psychics tell me the same thing. School counselors and teachers have expressed the same thoughts I have. I’m not what my mom says I am.

This isn’t about me hating autistic people, or people on the spectrum, it’s nothing like that. In fact, I believe people who have autism or ASD are gifted in many areas, and they make for extraordinary people. But have you ever had a gut feeling about something, as if you knew something without needing the facts or evidence? For me, that’s dialed to 11 in this situation, because I have the facts and confirmations along with my own intuition. And I know I’m different from other people in a lot of ways, but until recently I didn’t know why. That’s where the Bipolar.

I have Bipolar type two, which is the more mild version. Basically you go from having manic episodes, where for days you are extremely happy, productive, creative (You basically love life so much that you can’t sleep for days, literally can’t), to hating everything so much, and I mean so much that you just sit there, not thinking or looking at anything in particular, and you can almost feel what it’s like to die over and over inside.. And it’s uncontrollable, you don’t want to feel terrible, but the thoughts just race so fast, and the feelings that accompany them are so overwhelming. It immobilizes you. That’s when I experience the anxiety and depression. I’ve always looked at bipolar as some crazy thing, as if people with it are lunatics, I mean that’s how it’s portrayed in hollywood, right? No, after learning that I have it, and that the symptoms are now starting to really show, I know what it’s like. Honestly, it feels crazy that I could have it, but it’s a better explanation than autism.

To be honest, I don’t experience the bad symptoms of bipolar to much, but when I do, it’s heavy. But I feel like there’s something more than my mental health that’s changing. Everyone keeps telling me that things are about to change. I don’t know what that means, but whatever it is, that psychic lady must of seen it.

I visited a psychic before I came back to Phoenix from a month long vacation. For half the appointment with her, things were going great. She was friendly, and her cat loved me. But when it got to the questions part, she changed completely. I had to ask about my father. I didn’t get to know him a whole lot, but he died when I was seven. He was a satanist, which isn’t bad, he wasn’t in a cult or anything as far as I know. He just believed in the fact that anyone should be able to do whatever they want as long as it doesn’t hurt or effect others. So maybe that’s why he drank, or passed away from a drug overdose. Because he thought it wouldn’t hurt others to abuse himself, to hate the world so much that he left everyone including me behind to face the shit happening today. He was a satanist and was angry, and he wanted to name me Damian Thomas Cusick, six letters per name for 666. It’s funny as hell because I was born under a cross surrounded by nun nurses, at a christian hospital here in Maricopa county, Phoenix. My mom was into witchcraft which makes me feel even more guilty about my whole birth situation. He wasn’t even here for me, but that’s not his fault, I was just born states and states away from him and my mom didn’t want me around him because of the drugs and alcohol.

I got off track. The psychic wouldn’t answer my questions very well about the whole situation. She changed when I even mentioned it, and she started muttering some weird shit about a prophecy which started freaking me out a bit. She told me the world is on fire and that it will only get worse. Even when I’m calm, all I feel is a flame inside my chest just ready to escape. And my mom says I’m an angry person. I mean I try not to be, I don’t want to be my father, but what if I am angry? And what if one day I can’t hold it back any longer, and I let that flame out, burning the world further than it’s already been burned? Why do I feel fire? There’s nothing there except ashes of the past that don’t matter. I’ve already dealt with it. I’m changing, I’m becoming more responsible. I should except the fact that I’ll be average, with a house, a wife, kids, and I should be happy with that. I should be happy.