Ethereal Redemption

The comic books were wrong. Heroes aren’t always costumed crime fighters, and they don’t always have super powers. They aren’t always superhuman, and they don’t always fight off villains.


Heroes, as cliché as it sounds, are around us.

They are in mothers who give everything they can to their children. They are in fathers who work hard, day in and day out to provide for their families. They are on the streets, in the eyes of the people who seek justice in this world. They are on our screens, seen in the field reporters who risk their lives just so they could deliver the dangers of the world as we stay in the safety of our own homes. Heroes are in regular people who strive to be extraordinary because if there’s one thing the comic books got right, it would have to be the thought that heroes make the world a better place.

And that’s what he is to me. A hero.

He made my world a better place. He came unexpected, like a thief in a cold december night. He changed me without meaning to, and he saved me without knowing it.

You see, my world had always been the home of darkness. My mind was always filled with dangerous thoughts and harmful ideas. Outside, I may seem carefree and happy, but my looks are designed to deceive. I wanted to look alive even if death was slowly gnawing on my insides.

I hated myself with a passion, and I was on the mercy of my own blades.

Then he came…

He came and he saw beyond my pretense. He killed the villains living within me. He was beyond ethereal. He was my redemption. He gave me his light as he helped me find my own. My demons were suddenly gone, and it was pure metanoia. He was pure metanoia. I was transformed by his impact, and he didn’t even know it. He put the clouds beneath my feet, and he made me realise that my deception was not merely an act; It was who I was meant to be. With him, happiness became my reality, and for that, I will forever be in debt.

He remains relentless in his rescue, but I know he can’t stay forever. Soon, he would have to fly away. He has his own world, but I hope he knows that for a second, he became mine. He became my world for a brief moment because he gave me what I was about to lose. He gave me life. He became my strength in my moment of weakness. He became my everything when I had none. He became my light when all I knew was dark. He made me hold on when I was convinced to let go.

Even if he takes his graceful exit, away from me and into the world, he will always stay within. He is immortalised in my newfound light, and he is felt in the fire of my toughened spirit that burns brighter than a million suns combined. I won’t fall into darkness anymore, and he will never fall into oblivion. I will always be here to tell the tale of the sanguine hero I have come to know and love. His greatness will never be ignored or forgotten because I will always be here. I will always be here to remind him of how amazing he is whenever he feels neglected. I will always be here to heal his wounds from the evils of this world. I will always be here, ready to defend him against this harsh and betraying world.

Even if the entire universe turns its back on him, I won’t.

Because he never turned his back to me.

Even if they all give up on him, I won’t.

Because he never gave up on me.

I will always be here, waiting for his return, ready to be his hero the moment he finds his kryptonite.

Because he always was my hero, and he will always be my hero.

Now, I’m ready to be his.


Long Overdue


This post, as the title states, is long overdue.

I’ve always had a problem writing about topics given to me because I don’t have a systematic writing style. I’m not the type of writer who thinks of a topic first before deciding on the things I’d include in my written work. I don’t outline my ideas or follow a detailed process.

I just write.

I just let my thoughts flow out until I run dry. I set my ideas free, not minding what direction they take, even if they don’t take direction at all. I write as long as I have something to write. I don’t care if my words are jumbled or if my sentences are a blur, I continue and I still write. I write until my meaningless letters and lost words finally find sense. I write until my fingers ache, and I write even when my fingers ache.

I let my heart take over every time I let words spill out. For this very reason, I absolutely can’t write systematically because systems are rigid. They require much thought, accuracy, and preparation. It works for most people, but it never works for me. In writing, I can’t EVER think because my words are always translated feelings. They are never designed concepts.

It’s funny because this post is the most punctual out of all the late papers I’ve ever done. I’m only one day late!!! (well it’s actually one week and a day if we follow the original deadline, but I was given a one week extension… so the one week’s cancelled and it only leaves a day… right?)

I always had trouble with my timeframes in this type of work because, as I said, I really couldn’t deal with structures, especially in writing. I’d usually turn in my school papers a month late or even more. If I submit early, then it means that I didn’t put much thought or care into it. I’d give it for the sake of giving it.

I’m looking to change this bad habit of mine, and this dare might just be the key.

You see, my cousin dared me to write about topics he’d give as a consequence for the times I become impossible, and this is supposed to be the first post. I got sidetracked and I mostly talked about my passion and style in writing. I was originally tasked to write about the dare. It’s a good thing I came to my senses and found a segue because if I didn’t stop talking about writing, then this post would be about something ENTIRELY different. I would then have to start over again just to write about something as simple as a dare. I barely talked about it in this post, and it only proves how bad I am in structured writing.

Honestly, I’m so scared because I’m almost ALWAYS impossible, and in this post alone, I pretty much revealed how much I suck at structured writing. ((So far, out of the five or six paragraphs previously written, only one talked about the topic…)) I’m afraid my works would pile up, and I don’t want to drown in the flood of my own mistakes. I especially don’t want to get trapped in a prison I set for myself. This dare expires the moment I do, so I’m just hoping that I stay out of trouble for the next… I don’t know… 100 years?

Kidding aside, this is actually one of the most challenging dares I’ve ever accepted. It may sound simple to most, but it’s my ultimate struggle. With that said, All posts associated to this dare would fall under structured struggles in my menu bar. This post is only the beginning, and even though I want this to also be the end, I know it can’t… I know it won’t be.

This is a dangerous game to play, so may time be always by my side, and may the odds be ever in my favour.