Dearest Mortals,
It’s your favorite spirit of dark wit, Ele Nichols, rising from the crypt once more to share another tale of resurrection.
Ah, autonomy and agency – two elusive qualities that have haunted me like ethereal specters. For one who has grown up neglected, with a touch of BPD sprinkled in, these ghosts can be quite challenging to exorcise. But fear not, my fellow creatures of the night, for I have been hard at work in my necromantic laboratory, brewing potions and concocting spells to reclaim my crypt and vanquish these demons.
Picture, if you will, the child of neglect: forced to navigate the twisted labyrinth of life alone, without a compass or a torch. This child learns to survive by appeasing the living, seeking validation in the darkest corners of their soul. And as a bonus gift from the universe, this Fickle Phantom called Borderline comes knocking at the crypt door, adding an extra layer of complexity to an already intricate conundrum.
But, my fellow night-dwellers, even in the darkest of tombs, there is hope. Through my resurrection journey, I have discovered the power of embracing my dark wit and learning to make light of the shadows that have plagued me.
For example, when the overwhelming urge to people-please creeps up, like the tendrils of a ghostly mist, I simply remind myself that I am a creature of the night – and people-pleasing is hardly a suitable pastime for a being of my supernatural caliber. Instead, I revel in my peculiarities, my dark humor, and my ability to navigate the underworld of human emotion.
In those moments when my mental illness tries to chain me to the crypt walls, I remember that even the greatest monsters of our time – Frankenstein’s creature, Dracula, and the Wolfman – sought to find their place in this strange world. If they could do it, so can I. The villagers with torches and pitchforks are simply the price you pay. With a cackle of laughter, I break free from the chains and step into my power, as a self-governing necromancer of life’s experiences.
Through humor and self-awareness, I am learning to channel my darkness into a force that can carve out my own path, free from the shackles of past lives. So, my fellow creatures, let us march forward in our own macabre parade, embracing our full autonomy and agency, and resurrecting our truest selves.
Until we meet again in the shadows, remember: we’re not here to appease the living, but to revel in our own darkness.
Yours in eternal twilight, Ele