Left Hand Path & My Trauma Past

My past is a school yard massacre or an overgrown, desolate graveyard. 

When people claim to know light, or purity I am unable to relate. I never have. I never will. I have been tarnished most of my life. Growing up in a religious school, and being told by my teachers “I was going to hell” because I was snide and outspoken regarding Christianity and dared question the validity of the holy trinity. Being told I would be going to hell excited me. It gave me purpose. I am forged by darkness. 

Darkness is inherent within me. 

They first tried to teach me about jesus, god and salvation at six during a religion class at school, and I could only fathom ‘god’ as being like a whispy white cloud, just like the floating fragmented spirits who dwelled with me on the ceiling when I dissociated while being sexually abused by the pumpkin eater. If this ‘god’ really did see everything, I speculated, then he had of seen that, and if he had seen that he would hate me. 

On learning this ‘god’ was the reason behind creation, and all seeing; i blamed him for everything. In my mind, ‘god’ was responsible for this. 

because if god saw this happen, why didn’t he fucking do anything to stop it ? My mind uable to fathom gods logic, shattered. This ensured I quickly concluded I was a bad person unworthy of gods love. I prayed for salvation a few times late at night when my mind cycled endlessly. Often the choice between vomiting and being sexually abused would be presented as an ultimatum. My two biggest fears. This choice devestated me, as I was a child intensely phobic of vomiting, funnily enough as an adult I have linked this phobia back to anxiety associated to the sexual abuse. I was maybe 7 or 8 when one late night, I bargained with my unrelenting thoughts and I chose vomiting as the one thing I would rather endure again, it was late and I needed sleep and the only way to sleep was to agree to one choice bred from this ultimatum. A few weeks later I vomited. I later prayed that next time would god “please let me be abused again if it meant I could avoid vomiting”. 

Lived on trembling in fear in anticipation of the next incident, developing severe ocd traits. 

This was the regular momentum my thoughts endured as a child. 

Around this point, I had enough and climbed inside a capsule of imagination. I stopped praying to an invisible con artist, and started creating made up worlds using pen and paper. I would design towns, houses, schools and entire citities of inhabitants. I would spend hours drawing the architectural layouts of extravagant houses, and grandiose towns that were filled with inhabitants who posessed desirable traits. 

I would draw families and schools I wished I could be apart of, I would imagine being in these makeup worlds instead, with a different name, a different family and a different face. 

In fact the only way I could ever use the toilet as a child, was to imagine myself in one of these stories. 

I was finally aware of what it would be like to be god. 

I was so ashamed of this secret world I fabricated, I would destroy my creations and fear my mother uncovering them ever. 

Sometimes I would slip, and draw pictures of dungeons with naked girls chained to the walls while they bled profusely. 

This was bad.

This terrified me. I wondered if the othet little girls did this ? Did they have dark secrets to conceal and dirty habits to overcome? 

Did they fake a facade just like I did?

No they didn’t. There was no one else like me, I was isolated and alone, and the other girls who were, would always move around, never staying here for more than a year or two of my life. 

I could never relate to my same sex peers, in all their pristine and well maintained brilliance. They had no dirty secrets to hide. I was the only girl in my grade with the messy hair, the dirty fingernails and the dirty secrets. I was always getting in trouble. I climbed trees and played outside games with the boys, hid in the library reading books, or wandered around talking to myself, and because of that, I was an outsider. They played with dolls, ponies and skipping ropes.

For me, darkness was apart of my being from a very early age. I always looked on death with intrigue and fascination, rather than with fear and revulsion.

Darkness is inherent in my being. I am a demoness in the flesh, livid with rage for being denied the ability to experience wholeness or bliss. Bound to this earth by an eternity of reincarnations, there is little of this planets sordid, malevolent history that my soul has not witnessed. I have never known light. Connection. Fulfilment. My life is void of light. Nothing ever renders me whole. Aside from the spark within me. god is a concept, which I can only comprehend in the form of pantheism: with the organism that encapsulates the complex biospheres that shroud this earth being akin to ‘god’. Humanity is the DNA molecule observing itself. The inherent intelligence that aligns matter, embodied in the human form. God is dead. All my psychedelics trips reconfirm the notion of only the earth as god, a cruel and menacing god. But powerful and never missing a moment. There is no collective higher realm endowed by bliss or perfection, there are only the realms of my own creation, and then reseivours of unending darkness. The first time I took LSD, I secretley hoped god would reveal himself to me. The allknowing deity he was, I expected a voice booming from the sky revealing himself to me. He did. He never came, and simultaneously I realised the earth was a heaven or a hell: whatever you could make it. I was aquainted with earth aligning to the hellish realm, however. But I could experience momentary bursts of pleasure. As for an almighty force, or an endless source of illumination though, my mind struggles to grasp this concept. I am the illumination in a world of barren desolation. An all knowing, all seeing deity? No. I ate the poison apple, and I pay the price with the darkness of knowledge. I often wondered whether I was self aware before this incarnation, or whether I have known all along? I am the only form of ‘god’ I can ever fathom. The only illumination comes within. And if humans are the universe embodying itself, technically humans are also therefore god. God made himself, but can god undo himself? I am forged by filth and darkness. I know no other way. My allegiance is in darkness. Yet I am more empathetic and compassionate than most people who correlate themselves to light. This is why the left hand path corresponds and resonates in such a profound manner with my being. I have traversed and battled with the abyss all my life.