Threads of Fate: Love’s Dark Alchemy
This morning, as I was running, I came dangerously close to throwing my phone against the wall.
I had completely forgotten that the song “Infinity” was on my Carnivore playlist.
Truth be told, I’ve grown to hate that song — maybe even the word itself.
I quickly skipped past it and continued to the next track, only to find myself staring into the mirror, my eyes fixed on my chest.
It felt as if they were boring into my skin, right at the spot where my heart resides.
Don’t you dare cry.
Let it go. Let it go. Let it go.
This mantra often keeps me grounded during my runs, helping me to release and overcome the pain that sometimes grips my heart.
Eventually, after pushing myself through intense sprints, I found myself emotionally spent, yet paradoxically, tightly wound.
Regardless, after this, I found myself leaning against the bathroom's sliding glass mirrors before showering and somehow succumbing to the urge to search for you again.
I visited you and looked into your eyes, then I closed mine.
Why? Why do I still want to find you when the “writing is on the wall”?
My mind is done being patient with my heart. “You are an idiot.”
Many times, I still feel the urge to slam things against my desk or throw something at the wall.
I remember being three years old, throwing myself on the ground when I didn’t get what I wanted.
That tactic worked for me for a long time, allowing me to get what I desired.
I wish it were that easy to get what I want now.
This is what my grown-up tantrums feel like.
I try to control my anger because I know that underneath it all, it’s really just a manifestation of sadness.
Instead, I find myself running miles.
Some might say that I am running from it.
No more tears, although I can still taste the salt.
I lie to myself.
I bite my lip.
It’s not tears; it’s just sweat.
My body is overheating from pushing myself too hard.
“Yeah, right.”
I’ve never understood those who workout out of anger.
I’m exercising out of frustration — frustrated with myself and my emotions, frustrated with the thoughts I entertain that are beneath me.
Maybe the voice of Venus triumphed yesterday, but today all I hear is the voice of the Moon.
“You will let go, you will let go”…. and again
“You will let go…”
During my runs, I repeat anything I truly want to penetrate my thick skull and reach my heart.
Embracing the challenge of sprinting allows me to give my heart whatever medicine my mind thinks it needs.
I refer to it as medicine because, like all medicine, it’s not something I really want to swallow.
How many times have I had to freeze liver to get it down my throat?
There’s no sugar-coating this truth.
We all know it’s essential to be cautious about the stories others tell us.
I never realized until recently how careful I also need to be about the narratives I create for myself.
Through the window, there is so much on the other side that she can almost taste waiting for her.
To do only the things she loves and none of the things she doesn’t.
Every job has been this way for her.
She reminds herself that it was merchandising that sparked her love and kept her in retail for so long.
Did she truly love everything about the retail industry?
No.
But, wasn’t this the point of starting her own business — to have the freedom to do only what she loves?
She was only kidding herself; she knew very well that achieving that kind of freedom requires her to be much further along in her business.
The store will allow her to continue writing and try to make a difference in the world through her stories.
Yet, there’s more that this windowpane separates her from.
It is him.
The truth is, she won’t be happy with him — not like this.
But there is a voice coming from outside of herself that also persists…
“Can you imagine being happy without him?”
She tells herself- soul connection aside, he isn’t the answer she is looking for.
His inability to give his heart with loyalty will never be enough for her.
And it is less than she deserves.
Maybe she wouldn’t even want him if she could truly have him.
Perhaps it’s never been about having.
Maybe it’s only about wanting.
Somehow, even though deep down she knows this is the farthest thing from the truth, it makes her feel better.
She is committed to being authentic with her emotions, acknowledging that there are times when she might tell herself comforting lies to cope with how she truly feels.
Still, she is learning to embrace her genuine self and all that she feels, regardless.
I could feel her growing need in the thick air surrounding me.
I had trouble swallowing.
I longed to open the windows, hoping to let the air dissipate the heaviness of the night, which captivated the stillness around us.
Though she was unseen, her need was always palpable.
Despite her efforts to resist, the crow was pulling her away from her place hidden in the light of day.
Even before she heard the wolf and her haunting call to the Moon, a symbol of her inner desires and aspirations, she knew she was near.
She recognized her loneliness, feeling it just as profoundly as the wolf felt its own.
With no rooftop and no walls, the wolf was nearer to the Moon and its emotions than she could ever be.
When she howled like that, was it out of a desire for guidance, or was it a desperate plea for release?
I knew it was the latter.
How many times had she pleaded through the glass pane for liberation from her confinement?
She felt the ache that filled the void inside her.
It felt as if the walls were closing in around her.
Yet her heart recognized that her mind constructed these walls, a constant battle between self-control and acceptance.
Containment of her emotions felt necessary.
Discipline, enforced by her willpower and delivered by her mind, was how she had always succeeded.
She cast herself upon the control of her mind, devoting herself to her work in the same manner a nun devotes herself to her savior.
This was her only way of coping.
Her professional endeavors and personal projects usually distracted her enough that she didn’t crave anything more.
But in this moment of solitude, the wolf outside, in the distance, teased her — a symbol of her yearning for freedom and connection.
The window was so pristine that it seemed almost invisible.
She had to touch it to reassure herself of its existence.
The sensation against her fingertips overwhelmed her with a sense of sadness.
She was already aching from her longing, but now tears threatened to spill.
The complex reality of her unfulfilled desires and her ongoing struggle to maintain control over her emotions made her heart ache.
She had hoped this longing would finally cease to exist.
She wished it would become just another delusion — a delusion she could welcome.
She yearned to feel beyond it.
The divide between her and the outside world filled her with conflicting emotions.
Anger, because she desperately wanted to break through it.
Sadness, because she knew this was not the way.
Despite how hard she has worked, the work is not done.
Many more steps lie between her and this breakthrough — a journey of self-awareness and healing to which she was committed.
There was a deep longing to feel complete within herself.
Unfortunately, the path to this always seemed to begin with the words:
“If only…”
The restlessness that crawled beneath her skin and gripped her mind made her acutely aware of him.
Even with her eyes closed, she could feel him.
The crow was outside her window again.
The darkness in the depths of his eyes made it impossible for her to ignore him.
Each night, he beckoned to her, although if he were asked, he would likely blame her for her own senseless undoing.
After all, he was always there at almost the same time, but he rarely offered more than just his daily, ever-present, yet fleeting presence.
As much as she enjoyed lying to herself to find sleep in the arms she imagined wanted to hold her each night, she had long ago felt the cold splash of reality on her face — the sharp contrast of light that could only slap against her pale skin.
This frigid reality that she faced each day was ultimately her own fault for deluding herself into believing that her heart was anything more than another conquest he desired.
Did he truly understand her heart, or was he merely another person drawn to her for physical pleasure, unable to appreciate the emotional depth she offers?
The disappointment stings because she didn’t recognize sooner that while she knows he is intelligent, he is unwilling to explore emotional intelligence.
This realization deepens the silence between them, reminding her of a truth she has never forgotten: a man can only connect with another to the degree that he has connected with himself emotionally.
Still, one would think that this would make her withdraw from him completely—and perhaps this would be true if the other half of her were not working against her; things would be different.
But the other half of herself was still under his spell.
Even though the wolf within her remained unseen, she understood the magnetic power that the crow held over her.
She had tried to run in the opposite direction and had even sought courage from the blanket of stars.
Didn’t the cover of darkness always seem to provide answers to all her other questions?
Why was the crow the one question that the sky couldn’t seem to answer?
Without some intrinsic force outside of herself, the wolf within her would never be able to resist closing the distance between them.
Before, it was always the full moon that awakened her needs — but that was before him.
Now, it is the magic of a shared timeline that has woven together the fabric of their lives.
The crow may not feel as compelled to believe in this story of otherworldly energy that connects them; he may never realize it until it is too late.
What he doesn’t see, and what she knows, is that all of this is part of a bigger plan.
Every “no” and every “yes” has led them both to this point.
The signs that she has been given cannot be ignored - this road is one that they were meant to cross paths on.
They are merely characters on a divine journey, meant to lead them to a greater purpose, one that encompasses not just improving themselves, but also the world around them.