They all say that the road to success is a long dark road and a lonely one at that. Now, I can’t say that it’s completely true in my experience so far. At least, not at the middle.

The beginning is rough. It’s a question of your hardship, your want and greed.

Would you give up everything — and every bad scenario in where you have completely nothing to be true and real — whether you actually make it to your goal or not? Perhaps it was because we were the young and the hopeful, despite this rigid path of torment.

We saw Hell all around us. It was inside of us. Always with us since our birth and it wasn’t exactly vivid until we faced our own fate. It was… Crawling. Aching. Calling. Some days, we saw it and it was actually celestial in it’s peak of angst. It was our motivation. Our salvation to move forward, even if we weren’t going anywhere.

Of course, we made it to the middle with Lestat. He was our light to be these gods of the night, to be worshiped and start a revolution of two worlds. Music was one. His own rebellion was another. Even if it was a bit dangerous to an extreme, we didn’t care. We lived for danger. We coexisted with it and befriended it in many forms, in many situations, which were all of our independent doing.

We could have given up on that Brat, but we didn’t. We were loyal. We were too far down a path to the point there was no turning back. Even if there was — and trust me, there were plenty of times — we ignored it on purpose. Why? Because we loved him enough. We were a small insane family; practically ‘children’ to the immortal and our mentor of sorts.

We were maniacs. Lunatics. The extreme fucktards that loved with a grit. And that was beautiful. Death was near and what did we do? We teased and teased and teased. God, the beauty… Despite that desert; despite nearly loosing it all… We did what we did best and we moved forward with what we knew, even if it was without Lestat. Thanks to what he saw, he gave us the world entire and the world visioned and embraced us with open arms.

God, it was scary… But, it worked. We did it. We produced music for what seemed to be ages…

At this current moment, I don’t know if I’m in the middle anymore. I don’t know if I’m even a fourth there anymore. I just know that reality and existing makes me feel nostalgic almost, testing me to see how long I can make it in one piece before I get mad again.

Ha, perhaps I should re-start another rebellion. It wouldn’t hurt. The middle wouldn’t. Then again, that is what usually gets me go completely and utterly mad with idiocy.

I guess I’m not really in the middle. I’m not really in a beginning. For the sake of the mental apocalypse, I’m not even in a ending.

Where I am is a sake of imagination, dreams, nightmares, and a vision of complete lust. I am a goddess without a throne because I don’t need one. I am a queen without a crown because I know what I want. Yet, I’m nothing with something that can make me all these things at once.

Truthfully, I’m just here. Outward looking in. Inside looking out. Truly, I’m just a paradox. 

^beautiful, lucid-blood