Bike Path Specter

Oddly enough my insomnia has led me to being in some interesting situations. Often times they aren’t dangerous. This past spring and early summer, I got hit with a really bad bout of insomnia.

Before I continue however I should mention that this isn’t the usual ghost story…

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Bad Roommate/don’t play with spirits

Real talk, I lived w/ this really toxic unhealthy white dude for a short period of time with my ex. He would do shit like disappear for several days and call us to demand bill money that didn’t make sense, also he regularly stole stuff from people’s houses (he was a mover), he also built a fort out of couches of which there were six, made out apt into a maze (it was small and one bedroom but he did it) and put black lights in all the lights. A real piece of work I tell ya.

Anyways we got a Ouija board mind you the rest of the ppl living there were white and we loved right next to a graveyard. I done told those crackers “this is an awful idea”. Nobody listened, I gave them explicit rules #1 was “invite nothing to stay or interact, and do not do this alone”.

For a few weeks I thought everything was good until I started having nightmare, Nick (the dangerous rm) started acting weirder and weirder. One day my ex and I got home while walking past the little tent that Nick and his gf had built around their bed I looked over at the couch, and there was a literal physical entity on one of the couches. He was shadowy like grey sepia tone. But visible enough that I could see the outlines of his clothes. So like I was always told I turned away and pretended I didn’t see anything, it turned and fucking looked at me.

I ran into the room grabbed the table the Nick had turned into a Ouija board. Grabbed the salt and my travel alter bag, made a circle around my ex, the table and my supplies. Around that time the whole apt walls and all started wubbing like they had base in them. I went to start cleansing the table and cutting this things tie to it, and Ash started falling from the ceiling. It didn’t come from anywhere I had lit no candles and fucking ash fell.

Once I got through my make shift banishment the walls stopped throbbing. I packed up my shit and we went to my dad’s.

The next day Nick called and asked where we had gone, we told him the story, he asked us to come over and retell it. After which he starts yelling at both of us cause “that shit isn’t real”. Out of the corner of my eye in broad daylight I see that things face stretching out of the dry wall like it’s trying to break through. I told them we had to stop cause he was trying to come back. Nick’s white Satan ass said “Perfect negativity draws him in”. This asshole had been calling this thing and recording him for weeks and was pissed “kicked it out without asking”.

Needless to say we moved out that week. But that thing followed us home to my dad’s house. It took a year of regular meditation and smoke cleansing to get it to go away. He followed a friend who moved in with us then back to his parents and after that I don’t know where he went.

Yeah a roommate got me haunted. I have no fear of the dead, but there are some spirits that have never been dead, or inhabited this world as we understand it, corporeally. Also what is it with White folk and ouija boards???? Like just follow the damn rules.

Crown & Glory

For most of my life I have flip flopped between different codes of morality and ideologies, try to find a little direction in this often daunting cosmos. The struggle for me is that I grew up in a household that knew very little peace or stability, and my parents were both driven by self absorption and ego. I forgive, mostly, what they have actually changed, because my parents were in their very early 20s and holding this awful age against them would mean I would get no pity myself in another 20 years… Continue reading

You’re Finally Getting Old: Mortality & My Relationship With It

I have never had an issue or any fear surrounding death and mortality. That is when it comes to myself. I had honestly never considered living very long, which may be due to the large slew of deaths that occurred when I was 15-17. Three of which were murders, one of my dad’s best friend and my sister’s and I’s godfather (the other a distant barely known relative, and another of a kid who went to my high-school). My struggle has since been that of a wide range of ages of those who died, I realized that I too was very likely to die young.

In drastic contrast to this I have a hard time recognizing and handling people aging. Old people who slowly lose their minds is a realistic fear of mine. That is of no fault of those elder people. But in all my experiences with death I was not struck with any personal fear of my life ending. This may be due to the fact that I have been suicidal for a large part of my life, but I had honestly never considered living a full adulthood.

On the other hand I was deeply upset when other people dies and not for the reasons you would think. I find that there are two things that bring out the worst in people. Death and birth, for some reason everything begins to revolve mostly around the people who have very little of nothing to do with either event. Used to manipulate and falsely cite the wises of needs of the deceased or newborn, honestly it’s pretty fucked. Worse than that there is some solace in the people you love dying young. Now hold tf on, you say that’s so wrong. Let me explain that one of the most horrible things is have someone who was basically an immortal God in your young life, the person who you heard stories about die young and still some how your hero is better than growing up to be disenchanted.  Currently I am watching the sudden decline of my father, and along with realizing he isn’t the person I remembered or idolized as a child, is much harder than the sudden deaths. Self actualization and realization is in some ways more horrible than having questions forever. You don’t see minds and bodies deteriorate, or the pain that aging into death brings. For the first time ever I saw a picture of my dad and he looked old, from the ages of about 22-40 years of bodily abuse, hard labor, depression, weight fluctuations, two cross country moves, and the murder of a best friend he always looked the same. Now the years and strife have caught up physically and with it the sole stability in my tumultuous universe I have realized is not going to bury me, before I do him.

I guess I had confronted the idea of my own death and mortality, an openly accepted it as a fact. I however have yet to come to grips with such as it applies to those I care about.