.: Entry Seventy-Three :.

My name is Elliot Parker. I may have changed, but some people haven’t.

I know, I know I said I was done with Adrian, but that doesn’t mean that I was going to be completely unreasonable. I gave him a chance, a two-week long chance. He had promised he would see me while he was back. Well, he flew back to work again last night. The promise, was as I am sure you can guess, not kept. Thing is, I wasn’t surprised. I stopped being surprised, I stopped feeling let down and disappointed I just got used to it. That is all. I got used to being let down so often that it has become an expectation. And that expectation, remains in my energy and so I am bringing more of that unwanted from him. Then again, I suppose, I am no longer willing to do the work to change that feeling about him. It is what it is. I won’t be going to visit him where he is working. I won’t be saying that his behaviour was ok. We were due to meet making plans that day to meet. Came to the time we were supposed to meet, no response. Read the message but no response. I ended up getting a message the next day that his friend turned up. I don’t understand how that stops him from sending a message to cancel. And there it is. That moment where you finally give up on something, someone that you wanted. Because, at the end of the day, I deserve better. I deserve to have promises kept, to not be let down or ignored.

I suppose it really could be the end of us even remaining friends from now on. I won’t be making the effort anymore. I won’t be waiting around anymore. I won’t be making things ok and better anymore. I just won’t be there like I used to be. Part of me is terrified that he won’t even see it or understand it, part of me is scared that he will never understand why I walked away.

That doesn’t mean I don’t love him. But it does mean I finally understand my worth, it does mean I am learning to love and respect myself. I still love him, I think I always will, always.

I can have whatever I want. I can be whomever I want. I want to be me. I want to be Elliot Parker. But not just Elliot Parker, I want to be the best version of me, for myself, for who I am. Sometimes, I don’t even know who I am, I normally don’t think about that question, “who am I?” It doesn’t work for me. I end up in some complicated confusion and I just don’t know who or what I am or want to be.

I guess that is why it is better that I am letting Adrian go, letting the resistance and the struggle and the momentum go. Maybe it will make us both happier in the long term?

So, it happens. Probably should have happened a long time ago.

So how do I feel about that? Well that’s the thing, I don’t feel anything that strongly about it. Maybe a bit disappointed, but it just all feels, inevitable. That’s kind of sad I suppose. He was a huge part of my life, but it just seems like I was constantly making excuses or forgiving silly things over and over again, it was always the same thing so the lesson was never really learned. It was hard to accept how unhealthy it was for so long. But as leading a happy and healthy life became more important, making healthy choices became more important, and then consistently choosing a healthy choice became more important, and making exceptions to that, however much I love that person, just wasn’t enough of a reason. It’s not that there is no love there, it’s that I started doing what was right for me. So I stopped being so forgiving and understanding. I stopped responding to being treated in a way that didn’t make me happy. I have been slowly taking a step back. One at a time. To be honest, I don’t think he has even noticed.

Maybe it is for the best.

It is probably for the best.

I just hope that he gets what he wants, that it is all that he hoped it would be.

So maybe it’s not a love story, I never got the reconciliation I thought that I wanted. I got something else instead though. I found myself, which is I suppose, in a way, a better love story. It just still feels so open ended. Does closure even exist?

How many stories do we read and watch on TV where the characters get back together or the break up is clean and simple? How many times do we see that kind of hope story that makes us believe its ok to hold on? I don’t know if I can hold on anymore when I am walking away from what was. I am not even the same person I used to be, if I can accept that why am I not wanting to acknowledge that it is ok for my feelings to change and evolve. If I can accept that I am not the person I was and it is ok to love the person I am now then perhaps this story really isn’t even over, perhaps it really just is the beginning.

Perhaps this is just sort of becoming the end almost of the beginning, you know that part just before when things start making sense?

I don’t know. It is possible. I don’t have to have it all figured out right now. Right now, is not everything that will be. After all, all this time, I have been learning that I am a deliberate creator.

My name is Elliot Parker; I am a deliberate creator.

.: Entry Seventy-Two :.

My name is Elliot Parker and I have changed.

There is no use pretending I haven’t.

There is no use in pretending that my feelings haven’t changed.

Another chance to keep a promise, another chance to live up to potential, another chance again and again and again and again.

Except, when do all those chances ever end? When does it stop? Being let down, being handed excuse after excuse, being disappointed when I know how easy it would have been for that to not be the case. I know how preventable it is. How easy it is to change. How hard would it really be to be to take a chance and actually do something with it that didn’t make me feel bad or regretful for giving another chance. Stop repeating the mistakes of the past.

Well that’s it isn’t it. The definition of insanity is repeating the same events or actions and expecting different results. I have given a very clear opportunity for a second chance and an excuse was given. I can’t keep doing the same thing, so now I have been putting myself first, putting my happiness first, the change is clear. It’s a good thing though. Just not to those used to receiving infinite chances and opportunities. I am not that person anymore.

I am a forgiving person. I am forgiving myself, for all the past mistakes, all the past negative feelings, I FORGIVE MYSELF. It is the past, it is done. It is not where I am now, it can’t drag me back, I am taking the power from what was and what is… because I know what is coming is unbelievable and wonderful.

That’s the thing isn’t it, I finally have reached a place of power and a place of peace in being a deliberate creator. I ride my power in waves, slowly I am getting better, sometimes, I am in complete control. Sometimes I am in total freefall waiting for the momentum to subside so that I can stand again and begin again. Each time I stand back up, the certainty, the surety, the security, the knowledge, the wellbeing, the excitement it all becomes clear.

My name is Elliot Parker. I am a deliberate creator.

I am ready to change my life. I can feel this flowing of transformation and change spreading from me.

First it was choosing to be happy. Choosing all those better feeling thoughts, one by one, they lead me here. I fluctuate, energy does that, but overall, even if I could unlearn things I wouldn’t. Sure it is hard, and there are times when it is the most frustrating or confusing thing on earth. When you feel like you have no strong direction, when you feel like you are in complete freefall, it feels impossible and never ending but it isn’t. I promise it passes I found the way to pull myself out of freefall so much faster. Reaching for that better feeling thought, reaching for that better feeling thought lands you in a better feeling experience. If you keep up the momentum… amazing things can happen.

The future is beckoning. Whether people deserve to be carried forward into that future, well that is up to them. But I am sure it is easy to see that the promise breaker, second chance taker, is likely to not make it.

I forgave myself. I forgive them. But the future I want, is healthy. Because I want it I know it will come to be. The future I want is adventurous, because I want it I know it will come to be. The future I want is successful, because I want it I know it will come to be. The future I want is prosperous, because I want it I know that it will come to be. The future that I want is exciting, because I want it I know it will come to be.

I am so focused; I am chasing my dreams. Chasing is the wrong word, I am not sure pursuing is right either. I am enjoying the bliss and joy of the processes of my dreams coming into my experience. I am enjoying the little moments and the big and everything in between.

My name is Elliot Parker. I have changed. I can feel it. I can feel the steady power and peace from within. The kind of peace that comes from knowing that everything, the desires I hold are unfolding wonderfully and I am ready and coming into resonance with the desires. I know that the dreams I am holding are coming.

Doesn’t power and peace and knowing feel good. It is quiet and loud, something that hums inside of you. It feels great to just be able to sit in the knowing that there is nothing that you need to or have to do to make things happen. There is no need to feel like you have to do anything to make what you want happen. There is no need to feel like a hurricane or a force to be reckoned with. Even if that is what you are. It feels wonderful to just focus on how you feel and allow the emotions you are choosing to invite to guide you into resonance with what you desire. I could be the girl to change the world. But there is no making it happen. I could be the one to change history. There is no making anything happen, no efforting something into being. When it is ready, it will come, it will happen. It will feel natural, it will feel certain and sure and easy and free and I am so ready to be choosing my path. I am enjoying the feeling of the path unfurling under my feet because I am never off of my path. I will never be off of my path. I know who I am. Who I will be. I have decided already and I am ready to just enjoy whatever is coming my way.

.: Entry Seventy-One :.

My name is Elliot Parker, except I am not.

My parents chose that I should perform the marriage ritual, they want me to become a monster. I know the myth, the horror story, the cautionary tale, the reason why syphons are normally destroyed or kept from sight or knowledge. I don’t want to be a monster.

“You don’t want the power?” he asks so softly I forget why I remained quiet before. I shake my head no. He is trying to charm me to be quiet. “They scared you so badly that you never wanted marriage, to perform the ritual, to be turned.” I look away. “You know what a night child is?” I keep looking away. A faint echo of a voice says one thing, they are mistakes. “You know what a night walker is?” I keep looking away. They are the rulers of weaker kingdoms; the ones my parents show no concern of. I hear a small voice in my ear say, like a distant memory. “You know what a day walker is?” I search for the answer, I should know it, it’s like the word has been wiped from my memory. I look at him and shake my head, my confusion is clear. “We come from families that are day walkers. We are the more powerful kingdoms.” He says, and I nod, like it is an echo in my ear, a vaguely recognisable fact. “You know what a witch walker is?” My eyes widen, a feeling of fear bubbles up. The monster that they want to turn me into. “That’s what we will be, together, the first witch walkers in thousands of years, the most powerful beings on this earth.”

Does he not grasp the horror of his words? The danger he is willing to unleash upon the world. We come from day walkers, yes, that means that is what we would be, if we were normal. But we are not. I put my hand on his and look into his eyes. He is right I am a syphon. I begin to slowly pull away at his magic. The charm slowly fades as his face hardens, he can feel me pulling at his magic. He begins to fight it, to fight me pulling the magic from him. It won’t work, I have kept myself hungry for too long, my connection was pinched away from the magic for a while, long enough to create enough of a vacuum to weaken his. This is what I had been waiting for. The chance for his guard to be down enough to pull some truth from him, then some damn magic.

I could feel the magic flowing back, I no longer feel so weak. I can feel the warm buzzing filling me from head to toe. I feel my own essence, my magical signature flowing from him. So he is a syphon too. I didn’t believe the likelihood of his being a syphon too, we are rare, or at least we are supposed to be. But there we go. And here I am. I pulled my own signature entrancing magic back, it feels a familiar warmth. I keep pulling magic even as he fights it. I didn’t realise this had become a fight for the magic. Through gritted teeth I hear myself, I am angry, I can’t be blamed for being angry. “You syphoned my magic?”

“I was trying to get through to you, you put yourself in that damn bubble, until you couldn’t. Then you were just stubbornly ignoring me.” I can see the pain of the magic being pulled from him. I begin to taste his own magical signature; I can see how weak he is becoming. I stop. I let go and I watch him fall back, weak.

I stride to the door, no longer resisting the magic, no longer pinching myself away from it, I pull the spell from the door. He had magically locked me in this room, it took a lot of magic to do, and now, I am syphoning that into myself. The buzz and the warmth of the magic flowing through my veins. I touch the door handle and I hear him calling for me, I turn to look at him on the floor picking himself up. Look back at the door handle and before I have turned it he has pulled me back. “Don’t go out there, you can’t go out there.”

“Why?”

“I syphoned the magic from the boat to be able to stop you leaving, you can’t leave until I say, we are floating because I allow it.”

“You are alive because I allow it.” I hiss through gritted teeth as he pulls me further from the door handle turning the lock and resealing the room. I glare at him. He doesn’t syphon from me completely; I feel his magic leave me but no more. I hadn’t cared that he hadn’t thrown me from the door, that he had pinned me to the wall next to it. He had chosen the least painful retaking of power. A small part of me thanked him for that. But the rest of me was full of fire and fury. I could see the same temptation in his eyes. That weakness I recognised. I slowly soften the glare and bite my lip, just like I do when I am thinking, the habit I know he watches. I drop my gaze and then ever so softly let him watch as I trail my eyes up his arms and shoulders, pausing at his neck, his chin, his lips and then his eyes. I see how his observing of me has softened, it’s less focused. I feel his arms ease from being tense around me. Stopping me from running, he is granting me movement. Rather than let him step away, my hand has snaked around the back of his neck pulling him a little closer. I look up into his eyes again. This time when I pull him a fraction closer I meet him in that tiny distance and let our lips brush so softly, before he pulls me tightly to him and kisses me fiercely. Does he really think he is the one with the power in this moment?

.: Entry Seventy :.

My name is Elliot Parker… Normally… Here… Not so much.

Here my identity that I thought was a well-kept secret is not. My name, my identity, who I really am, well I am a princess. I have never been that fond of the title. I have never been fond of the fear some people have of power, or the perks it brings. But the thing is, it turns out, I am pretty powerful, pretty entrancing. Part of me wished I could be the stowaway girl and runaway forever, it was a beautiful fantasy, but I will never be free. I am Princess Ellainor Parkrovia and I am being taken home.

My running away was covered up in a lie, that the man I thought was helping me run away told them. He let me believe he was simply “the Captain”, turns out he was the prince my parents wanted me to marry, that they had chosen for me, Prince Adrian Ferislekraig. Even thinking his name bothers me. I continue to sit in the desk chair and stare out of the window. The moon is beginning to rise on the sea, it’s pretty. The prince has fallen asleep again, it happens every so often when staring at me, waiting for me to talk or move again gets to exhausting. The words on the reverse of his sketch are bothering me. What does “day walker” mean? Who is he really? Why the hell have my parents agreed to this marriage.

“You pull magic from your environment?” He is awake and talking to me again. I return my eyes to the window. As engaging as the conversation might be I don’t know if it is one I want to have. “You pull magic from everything, don’t you? From those around you, from the simple to the strong, you pull at the magic from the very essence of life.” Why is he asking? A secret is a secret and that is what I want to keep it. “Your parents, their magic comes from the earth, from the elements. But your magic is more complex, but it is easier to access than if it was just from elements, isn’t it?” His line of questions feels dangerous, like he knows the answer, like he knows what I am already, like he wants me to confirm his suspicions. I stare defiantly out of the window. “Do you know why your parents chose me to be your husband?” No. It was probably a strategic alliance choice. I keep my answer silent. “Do you even know what you are?” Not a day walker, whatever that is. I still my tongue and chew it a little, I realise I moved, it’s a tell and I stop chewing my tongue and set my jaw again. I can see his reflection in the window and the intensity of his eyes pull at me. He wants me to answer. “You know, you are lucky, your parents know what you are and haven’t tried to destroy you once. Your parents protected you, but my parents had to be charmed.” That’s wrong, you shouldn’t be able to charm them, they are meant to be more powerful than you, they should see through it. This isn’t right, their position of power should be greater than yours, their access to the elements should be greater than yours.

He’s got to me, he knows it, I can see him watching my eyes dart across the window as I try to work out what he is saying. I see the smile creep across his face. He turns the chair around and his face is close to mine, he is leaning over me, resting his hands on the arms either side of me. “You are a syphon.” I try to look confused by what he says. I know that word. I remember hearing my parents whispered conversation. “You know, if you wanted you could have more power than your parents, you could over power them and take over at any moment, they have lived with you, a ticking time bomb. But they made you weaker, docile with love for them.”

“It’s not weakness, it is strength to choose who you want to be.” I didn’t want to speak, but I did. He knows he has my attention.

“Did you think you were the only syphon in this world?” I glare at him. “We are rumours, we are weakened, hidden away. But they couldn’t hide me, just keep my secret. Just like they did you.” I try not to flinch as he inched closer. “What do you think will happen to us after the marriage ritual?” I shrug. “Our magic is meant to change, our connection to the world is meant to change. Our parents changed, they were pulled further from the elements, traditional magic is harder for them, but not impossible, after all, that is how we exist. Those that are born without power or status, they have no magic for a reason, the ritual is different for them. The ritual is tamer. We can give the magicless some power but it is different, it is dark and twisted. So we don’t, we remain the top of the chain. We are the jewels of the crown for now. Until our own marriage ritual and then our magic will change. Are you ready to change?” He is trying to scare me. I feel my nails digging into the seat of the chair. He is trying to get a reaction. Any reaction. I try to keep my face like stone, but wearing a mask is too much a drain and he can see right through me. His features soften slowly. His arms stop tensing either side of me, he draws back from leaning over me. He steadies himself still with the arms of the chair but now he is crouching in front of the chair. “You don’t want to change?” He asked so softly.

I know what happens in the ritual, what will probably happen to my magic, to my connection with the world. I know what I am likely to become. A monster.