Wicked

Jake 4

Jake

Once again I stalled my ritual to paralyze Kyle. Everything was okay now, things had gone back to the way they had before he betrayed me. I was sitting by my altar in the corner of my bedroom on Sunday afternoon, trying to meditate. Trying was the key word, I couldn't do it.

Although I often suffered from both racing thoughts and emotions, I was able to put all of my attention on one thing if I wanted to. That was how I was able to direct my emotions for the use of magic; channeling my spite into ritual items and intentions. It was also probably why I could be unwaveringly fixed on certain things for hours at a time – even longer when you considered my fixation on Kyle. However, what I seemingly couldn't do was make my mind go entirely empty.

That was the most common form of meditation. Instead of being all-over-the-place, instead of fixing onto one idea, you simply quietened your mind entirely. Sat in stillness. Being peacefully empty and coming to see things clearly and understanding the truths of a situation. On the occult forum I'd come across a quote by Nikola Tesla: Today people think deeply instead of clearly. One must be sane to think clearly, but one can think deeply and be quite insane.

I don't think that at any point in my life I have ever felt peaceful or empty.

Before me smoke was wafting upward from burning incense, Dragon's Blood which had been reported by those who go into gnosis to be Lucifer's favorite. Gnosis being the state of mind you drift into where these beings can then communicate with you. Propped up by a white candle was his hand-drawn sigil on a slip of paper, an old smear of blood through it from an offering I gave a while ago. Lucifer is the enlightener, the emperor of hell, one of the nine demonic gatekeepers. I was meditating on him and could feel his presence within me as a flickering warmth. I kept trying to empty my mind without success, restlessly I bounced around inside myself, distracted by my whirling mind and prevalent non-physical pain.

I thought about Kyle with warmth and smug satisfaction. The reason why my emotions bounced so drastically between love and hate was because in my mind there were two Kyles. Schrodinger's Kyle. Both versions of him existed up until the moment one would be proven as true. For the longest time I'd known that Kyle was deeply and irrevocably in love with me. I was always on his mind and he wanted me like he'd never wanted anything else. Meeting me had changed his life. I'd known my power over him was absolute and that he'd never get over me, I was aware I had a hold on him. Of course Kyle didn't actively pursue me, and I knew it was because he was terrified of his own feelings. He loved me so much, I made him so weak, that he was scared of our connection. I pondered him every now and again with smugness, imagining how vulnerable I made him. How hopelessly in love with me he was, how he couldn't stop thinking of me. It stroked my ego massively I must admit.

And so perhaps that's what I loved about him. I was convinced I was the centre of his universe.

But then I started exchanging psychic readings with chat-buddies from the occult forum. Lazily asked a question about Kyle and got an answer that was a slap to the face.

I'm noτ picking up on αnyτhing. This Kylε Thorburn doεsn'τ likε you. LuciferChild33 had been the one to send me that one fateful afternoon.

Of course I'd told him he was wrong, snapped at him even. He later forgave me for my outpouring of furious words. After him nobody I asked confirmed my beliefs, and I asked a lot of people. One member was a fellow teenager, a girl living in England, and though she said she picked up nervousness from him there was none of the gut-wrenching obsession I'd been convinced of. I wasn't on his mind all the time, but once or twice a day at best.