reflections

final lullaby

I'm running out of time
And you'll always be on my mind
And I can't make you stay in this broken place
And I hope you find peace
Close your eyes as I put us to sleep
Finally
To sleep
Finally

Final Lullaby
The Weeknd

♡ Snow
⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

I decided to keep my distance from the others while I got used to my new reality in Hell. I spent a lot of my time alone. Somehow, I always gravitated to solitude. I had been through a lot of horror and found that being alone helped to regulate my central nervous system which was always overwhelmed down here. I kept to myself yet I did ask for my own garden, like the one Sheva was allowed and I was surprised that I was allowed to have it. Even Sheva was surprised considering I had barely been here long. It was a beautiful place that was accessed only through a hidden dimension in Hell, and I was only allowed to access it when Cardamom allowed me to. I planted flowers and vegetables, and they grew beautifully. I was surprised they didn't just wilt and die, yet I did everything here with intention. Although I was as though a doll living within a dollhouse forever with those humans like myself who were destined to breed Nephilim... I wanted more than this. I wanted greatness, and found myself often hiding in my garden away from my chaotic reality. If existence was supposed to be pain, then I would find a way to see something else, until I finally had to do what they required of me.

My garden was hidden and it was glorious, more alike a secret meadow. It was an expanse of lush greenery with rolling hills and streams and bordered by tall hedges. There were beautiful flowers that grew in colours that had no name, and my fingers were yearning for my pencils and paper to try to replicate it yet I could not. It may have been an illusion, perhaps this was all still a dream, yet it was sacred and art to the spirit. Despite this, even though it was happening in my head Cardamom still told me it was real. I felt a new anointing in the spirit since I was baptised in the occultic pool, and now all I did it was through the spirit who lived within me. One thing about Cardamom was that he broke humans in, painfully and slowly. He sifted them like wheat. He took them in as raw materials and perfected them in his own image of beauty for his own honour. To be able to know him was to suffer under a strong hand. Constantly. It was how he was able to use us. I didn't want to be like the others, forced to breed Nephilim and then be thrown away or devoured. I was going to survive here. I had to be rare. I had to be powerful. I was still both in awe and overwhelmed by the beautiful new world I had discovered under the ground. I couldn't remember much of my old life, if I had even had one. I found out that my spirit had been sleeping in Hell in a particular realm, and the strange dreams I could barely remember of different versions of myself were Hell's way of sifting my mind while I wasn't aware. They were just dreams in the end. We had no certain way to tell time in these realms and a lot of my time I spent listening to music channeled through the shining light Cardamom had gifted me, dreaming of nostalgia and memories I could not recall any longer.

I started to feel close to Cardamom in the power of sound. I was always a creative person, always passionate about music and art and I was grateful to find Cardamom had gifted me a piano keyboard for my room. When I wasn't reading books, painting or writing stories I spent my time playing on the keyboard and singing. In this dark world you could have anything if you believed in your heart and believed in yourself. I humbly gave myself to music. I poured myself out into the well of sound and somehow it was as if Hell encouraged me yet I always wondered how.

This place was so tormenting yet it was also beautiful. In fact, there was something in the air here. Hell was taking over me. I was learning the bitter truth about losing my soul. It was hard to have control when the spirits knew more about you than you did yourself the entire time, yet I forced myself to be strong. I wasn't going to forsake the beauty of this world just because I was a prisoner. I had to be strong. My awareness of it was my key, and the variations of Hell was a gift only few could know. I was filled with gratitude at being one of the few selected.