F'htagn

Tuesday, May 31, 2011

FUCK IT. JUST FUCK IT ALL.

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK IT ALL

I'M SICK OF IT

SICK OF EVERYTHING.

JUST TAKE ME THE FUCK NOW AND TEAR ME UP YOURSELF IF THAT'S WHAT YOU AIM FOR.

I DON'T WANT TO DEAL WITH THIS ANYMORE. NONE OF IT.

I MUST WORK. I MUST WORK. I MUST WORK. THAT'S ALL I CAN DO. IT'S ALL I KNOW HOW TO DO ANYMORE.

AND WHEN I'M NOT WORKING I'M ALONE. WHO HAVE I TO SEEK SOLACE IN? THE KNOWLEDGE OF MY OWN SOLITUDE EATS ME FROM THE INSIDE OUT. LIKE MAGGOTS.

AT LEAST MAGGOTS DON'T SPEND THEIR WHOLE LIVES SQUIRMING IN FILTH. THEY GROW WINGS. THEY FLY. WHO CARES HOW LONG THEY LIVE. THEY GET THEIR FREEDOM.

AM I WORSE THAN A FLY!? IS THAT WHAT YOU'RE TRYING TO TURN ME INTO? I ENVISION MYSELF AS LESS THAN AN INSECT!? I SUPPOSE IN YOUR EYES, YOU ALMIGHTY CREATURE OF HELL, MORTALS ARE NOTHING MORE THAN INSECTS TO BE STOMPED. THOUGH IF THAT WERE TRULY THE CASE WE WOULDN'T BE WORTH THE TIME AND EFFORT YOU PUT IN TO EXTERMINATE US. TO TORTURE US WITHIN AN INCH OF OUR LIVES AND EVEN THEN NOT BEING MERCIFUL ENOUGH TO JUST FUCKING END IT. YOU LET US EAT OURSELVES.

YOU SEEM TO HAVE SO MUCH CONTROL OVER US. WHY DON'T YOU GIVE ME A FUCKING PURPOSE! YOU TELL ME WHAT TO DO! YOU BE THE ONE TO TELL ME HOW MUCH FUCKING TIME I'M WASTING SLAVING AWAY OVER NOTHING WITHOUT ANY END GOAL!

THIS IS ALL PART OF YOUR FUCKING PLAN, THOUGH. SO I KNOW YOU WON'T.

I FUCKING HATE YOU. YOU AND YOUR LITTLE FUCKING WORKER BEES. WHERE HAVE THEY BEEN LATELY ANYWAY? THIS GAME ALREADY TOO BORING FOR THEM? OR IS GIVING UP ON ME PART OF THE GAME? LEAVE ME ALONE ALL OVER AGAIN, WHY DON'T YOU.

FUCK YOU.





ON SECOND THOUGHT, YOU SEEM TO BE A SMART GUY. HOW MUCH DO YOU KNOW ABOUT SARTRE?

Saturday, May 28, 2011

It's Funny

but the better and better I feel, the quieter this world seems to become.

It's early in the morning. Perfectly silent with the exception of my laptop's fan whirring away. Outside it's gray, cloudly. I can't hear a single bird chirping. There's no wind blowing. Everything is still. Like I've been stuck in a single moment in time, just my laptop and I, and all of you. Frozen. Trapped.

I feel like I want to scream. Just to break the silence, to know I'm still here, still alive, still thriving. Am I thriving? No....that's a silly notion. To thrive is to be truly happy with the life you are leading. If that is the case, there are very, very few people in this world who thrive. Perhaps none at all.

This week has been wonderful, better than some, even, that I had known before I'd become threatened with this...is there even a way to describe something you still doubt to exist? Even if it is the tiniest shred of doubt?
and yet everything else seems so much more oppressive, more hostile. I feel people staring at me when I'm in public. I don't know why. I haven't crossed any such threshold that would constitute that...yet. But still. It makes my skin crawl. Like there are maggots just under what is visible, squirming and twisting and gnawing their way out of my flesh, out at into the air and leaving me...

I'm rambling again.



I can't help but feel like all of my problems stem from one thing: that in these last couple years I have found life boring. It's hard. If I'm as intelligent as everyone else believes, if I think of things that no one else bothers with and my brain is constantly whirring in no particular direction at hyperspeed, I'm constantly seeking a way to branch out, to expand my thinking until I can latch on to one thing and put it to good use. But I'm not able to get out, to be independent. It's turned me into a sort of thrill-seeker. Nothing's exciting to me anymore unless it's new, potentially dangerous and far, far away from what I'm used to in everyday life.

This is what worries me. Because the best days I can remember since I've gotten this blog--far before I'd gotten it--are the past week. When He has been following me. I've felt, not alive, not yet, but more alive than I have probably since I started high school. Only now that there is danger in my life (is it even real?) do I feel like I have a chance to make something of myself.

And yet the Lingering Fear still traipses alongside my shadow.





I'm tired still. Perhaps breakfast would do me some good. Then I can put my feelings more in order than they are now.

Thursday, May 26, 2011

I Have a Theory.

Stupid theory, but something, at the very least.

I think He feeds off negative energy. Well, not directly. But in a way that negative emotion sort-of...draws Him in, I guess? Or it makes it easier for Him to find you?

I didn't see Him at all yesterday. Either I had a good time, and that's why He didn't appear, or I had a good time because He didn't appear. I'm leaning toward the former.

And then today.

Today went fine until after school, when the tennis match began.

I had the slightest notion that I wasn't playing my best, my doubles partner was beginning to irk me, and I hadn't eaten lunch today so I was nauseous as well as irritated.

He wasn't close, oh no, nowhere near as close as He had been that first night. He was rather far away actually, in the playground at the park where our courts are located. There weren't any children there, but there were a few nearby watching a baseball game. No one seemed to notice Him but me. I lost a point because of Him. Even after I managed to tear my head away, even on the ride home, I could still feel those horrid tingles running up my spine.

And then I got home.

And then I got home.

Home, home. Home only brings work for me. My English IA draft is due tomorrow. I need to prepare the beginning of my Math IA (of which I barely have any survey results; why the fuck are there no students that blog at my school!?) and I have a packet of work on statistics (I think) to do. Not difficult, but time-consuming. And I still haven't slept well for the last couple days(weeks? months?), so I would be perfectly content in falling asleep right now.

And it's all so overwhelming that it makes me want to cry. Scratch that, I'm crying right now. I would demand another day off in a heartbeat, but a) my mother would never let me, and b) I would be letting my tennis team down on the last match of the season.

I can't handle this.

I want it to be over.

The chills are setting in again.





From there my theory goes in a million different directions. If He somehow embodies the negative feelings and throws them back at you with full force, if He uses the negative energy to eat away at your positive energy until there's nothing left. But gradually, it seems, He'll make you believe that you have nothing left and that He can bring you to a better place. Then He will take you by the hand and lead you away. And you know what happens from there. Don't you?


What a load of mindless blabber. To work, I must away.

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Slowly But Surely,

it seems, I'm becoming less and less alone.

I love you guys. Really, I do.

Today's trip was uneventful where it should be, and nothing short of amazing in all others. I'm a little upset I couldn't find something to waste my shopping money on (though I almost bought a pair of hipster glasses at Hot Topic at a pit stop on our way home, ha), but it doesn't matter much. The museum was beautiful, as was the Shubert Theatre. Memphis was just...stupendous, I suppose, for lack of a better word.


I haven't seen Him at all today. At best I've actually managed to confuse Him with all my moving around....at worst, He's toying with me.

The trouble with comment posting is persisting, so following The Mad Ventriloquist (and a few others): the e-mail address I'll be using is blackroseneko@aim.com. I've had the account for a while, and you're welcome to send comments or anything else to me if you're having trouble as well.


It's funny how normal everything feels right now.

It doesn't seem right.

In Case of Any Interest

There seems to be an issue over here with either my computer or Blogger. It's not letting me comment on any other blogs. So I'm leaving my comments here.

Bondie: That's what I thought too. Just...be prepared for the unexpected, okay? I wasn't. I'm still not.


The Mad Ventriloquist: It's difficult. After all you've learned, all you've been told, it is hard to break the silence. After all, remaining quiet means remaining hidden. But then there is another problem. If you are silent for too long, no one will hear you when you cry out for help. I am trying my best. Support is all I can ask for.



I will be on a bus to New York City in less than an hour. This may be the greatest I've felt in a very long time.

Monday, May 23, 2011

Written Sunday, May 22nd, 7:30 am.

My mother completely shut me down when she told me my favorite cafe isn't open on Sundays. My modem has been dead since last night. I'm writing this in advance in the hopes that when the wifi returns I can post it.

It happened again. After all this time trying to forget and think of something else, after a week of calm, a week of rain. After I'd finally started to feel just a little bit better about myself and what was going on around me.

The bastard apparently doesn't like being ignored by His victims. To the point that He'll go out of his way to make sure we know He's here.

Or perhaps I never stopped thinking about Him at all and this is the end result.

Anyway, cut to the chase.

He was in my room last night.

Not outside my window. In my room.

The internet died some time last night, before He showed up, so I hadn't been doing much of anything. I might have been considering texting a friend so I wouldn't feel so alone, because I wasn't able to sleep.

He was just sort-of.....there. In the corner, right beside my bookcase.

Thinking back on it now, I suppose it was something akin to a schoolyard bully making His presence known to a new kid. Just sort-of...looming, without taking action,. An ultimatum, maybe.

It's amazing how, with some things, you're only frightened of them until they're actually right in front of you. I think I was frightened: I couldn't move or hide or run and I wouldn't dare take my eyes of Him lest I look away and He actually does something. But I think that's just what happens when He's THAT close. It's what He does. Your heart doesn't pound, your mind doesn't race, but you're still paralyzed, not so much with fear as with sick fascination. This is probably why children follow Him so easily. This wasn't by any means a good thing, though. I was still in the danger zone.

I blinked.

He was gone.

The shuddering and nausea and the heart-and-mind assault returned,

I very nearly went into the bathroom and swallowed the half a bottle of Advil that was left on the counter. No matter how much stress I've been through, never, ever have I had any sort of suicidal tendencies.

This is serious.

I've spent the last few hours pacing in the kitchen. I can't stand sitting in my own room right now. I'll think too much about it. Probably going to sleep on the couch tonight.

Something's dawned on me. I've realized that, if I have any desire to live, I need to stop doing things the way I have been. No more denial. Real or not, after an experience like that, it's better to be safe that sorry.

The only problem is what.

What can I do?

I want to fight this. I want to live. But I can't run. I'm not capable of being a runner. I wouldn't know how to take care of myself were I to leave my home and family.

There are some of you who haven't run, and have managed to survive. Meaning I have a chance still.






Do you ever feel like you were chosen to be one of them? That there's a reason why all this has happened to you? Why He is in your life?

In my eyes, every one of you is special. There's something about you that makes you unique. You have expertise. Physical prowess. The wistom of ages. Immunity, however temporary. Music. Music is a very powerful tool and should not be underestimated: it can drive the most grounded to insanity, and soothe the most savage of beasts.

You all have skills.

What have I? An unhealthy obsession with existentialism? Books? Brains? It is undoubtable that knowledge is our strongest asset, but what use does it have when we do not know how to use it?




There is something else I admire you all for.

You have accepted. You have allowed yourself to become soldiers and runners because you know that the threat is real, very real.

How long did you doubt yourself? Do you doubt it still? Is there any way to fully overcome it? As calm as I may seem now, I'm doubting every second. If I'm speaking to real people, to liars, to non-entities created by my own mind. If I'm even writing (or typing) at this very moment. If what I'm seeing, hearing, feeling, smelling, tasting on the air is real or just a lucid dream or not even a dream, a false reality, one somehow created by Him to blind me further from the truth.

Do you have direction? Do you have answers?

Please, don't ignore me any longer. A comforting word alone will keep me on my way.

Please.

Saturday, May 21, 2011

O Rapture

Anyone else enjoy the end of the world? What a doozy. 6:00 pm. EST came and went without a cloud in the sky. In fact, weather here was even better today than it has been all week.

No, I haven't slept.

No, this week has not been good. But I suppose the last couple days have been better. I even won yesterday's tennis match, all physical damage aside.




I can't stop thinking.

God fucking damn it why can't I stop thinking.

I need to think of better things.

I've been reading Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray recently. I'm considering going back and finishing The Ultimate Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy because I put it down last summer and haven't gotten past the beginning of Book Three. Douglas Adams is like an idol to me. A literary genius.

Haven't touched Lovecraft in a while. Don't think I ever will again. Maybe I should finish Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.

I'm analysing House of Leaves for my IB Extended Essay. It's not due until next spring, so I've got plenty of time. Studying the Iranian Revolution for my History Internal Assessment. No Exit and The Metamorphosis for my English IA, as I mentioned before.

...What else have I done.


Is that all, really? Just weather and books? Maybe being a genius isn't as exciting as I thought. Maybe I'm not even a genius. My gears just move in overdrive.

I haven't done anything particularly creative with my time lately. No drawing. No writing, other than this blog and a few Facebook/Twitter posts of no real consequence. I don't even have internet access let alone texting on my phone, so there's no point in having a Twitter.

I've recently rediscovered the joys of German rock. Make fun of me if you will, but Tokio Hotel's old albums aren't that bad. Rammstein has an odd calming effect on me as well.

I find a lot of relaxation in copying phrases, lyrics, poems, anything inspiring or interesting, into notebooks. I guess I've been doing that a lot. But it hasn't much significance. I just find it soothing.

I don't understand. My mother used to love seeing all the amazing things I could create (so she said; I see them only as scribbles now). What do I have now? What do I do now? Sit in my room all day reading, shy away from the sun, the outside, only going out in the rain.

No matter what I do, whatever it is, I can never apply myself to it. I never give it my all. Every part of my life is half-assed. I have the potential. So why the fuck don't I use it? What good am I?







Going on a trip to New York City with a bunch of people from school on Wednesday. That might give me something to blog about for once. Enough with my angsty bitching, now, and fair thee well.

Thursday, May 19, 2011

Hardly slept last night. Woke up late this morning. Going to be late for school again. Homework's not done.

What else is new.

Nothing like...last Friday's occurence has happened this week. But it's also been raining like crazy.

That doesn't actually...keep Him away, does it? The rain? I always thought that was just a cop-out for vlogs so that they could do "momentary ceasefire before shit really hits the fan" episodes.

Why would He be stopped by something as trivial as water from the sky?

Either it really does, or I truly have lost my mind.

Holy shit am I late.

Saturday, May 14, 2011

No.

No no no no.

None of this is real. Why don't I understand that. They are not real. He is not real.

Tulpa.

No.

They're trying to convince me that He's real.

No. He's real. Why would they be trying so hard to fight him? To escape him?

They're not! It's all fake! They write them because they have nothing better to do!

Sense perception. Seeing is believing.

He is a figment of overactive imaginations. So am I imagining Him? If he's not there, I'm going crazy. If he is there, I'm going to go crazy. Or die, whichever comes first.

No. He is not REAL. I know that he's not. He was the creation of a stupid fucking photoshop on Something Fucking Awful by Victor fucking Surge. Whoever the fuck that is. A fable.

He's real if you think He is.

Maybe I do think He is.

I think, therefore I am. All that is real is what I believe.

He is real.

But He is not.

Do I believe?

I want to see. Then I will believe. Didn't I already see?

Before midnight. Friday the 13th of May. Outside my window. There was...something. Something pale and dark and thin and just barely lingering on the side of the window facing the neighbor's house. Just a shoulder....and half a head. Almost glowing, reflected by the light coming from next door. Like the halo of an angel of death.

Ha.

No. I don't want to see that. He wasn't there to begin with. He. Is. Not. Real.

Besides, I'll die if I see Him. I don't want. Don't.

But you want to know the truth.

The truth is in my mind. I just need to find it.

What if He is the Truth?

He's not. He's a lie. Never existed, never will. He lies.

If he lies to you, then, he must be real. Must have some concreteness on this plane.

Therefore He is Real. He is Truth.

Weigh your options.

















How silly I am. This is simple enough. I'm just overthinking things again. If He is only real if I believe He is real, then I must simply stop believing.

Nor more Slenderblogs for me. I shall abandon every single one of them. Marble Hornets DVD? In the trash. EverymanHYBRID, TribeTwelve, Angel's Game? Unsubscribed.
No more reading this bullshit.

All of it, gone. Gone gone gone. Bye-bye.

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Back

from the second tennis match this week. Exhausted. Ended up pulling a tendon in my wrist, so it's kinda hard to type (or do anything) without it hurting like a bitch. But, there's work to be done. So I'll suck it up, take a couple pills with some coffee to keep me awake, and get that shit done. Because what other choice do I have.

As you may have already guessed (if you've read at all: as far as I know there hasn't been a single pageview since the last time I was here. And no, I'm not including you.) the last post on this blog was not me. I suppose I should be more worried about getting hacked again (or whatever the fuck happened), but I'm far too tired and have far too much work to do to care very much. I'll think about it later.

Topic: Dependence in No Exit and The Metamorphosis, and how this directly ties into the main aspects of existentialism.

Thesis Statement: In Jean-Paul Sartre's "No Exit" and Franz Kafka's "The Metamorphosis", the theme of dependence (or interdependence) between characters is played out to directly reflect the aspects of existentialism that were the bases(?plural of "basis", find another word?) of their work.

Dependence in The Metamorphosis:
~Family relies on Gregor for support--> sole source of income
~After becoming a bug, Gregor must depend on his family to support HIM as he is no longer capable of working or even coming out of his room
~Possible: Gregor's dependence on the portrait as his sole connection to the outside world???

Dependence/Interdependence in No Exit
~Characters must rely on one another to judge them--> lack of mirrors (physical); characters judge one another as to whether or not they belong in Hell (as Estelle insists she does not...initially)
~Left alone in a single room--> only connections left to society are in that room with them
~Anything else???


Existentialism:
Isn't it obvious.

I probably should have asked for help on this when I had the chance. The response is fucking tomorrow and I don't have my act together. What. The. Fuck.

If I can be deathly ill for just ONE DAY this week, I will be eternally grateful to the higher powers.

Monday, May 9, 2011

Well, hello.

Someone's had a rough day. There there, nothing to fear. Not just yet.

Poor thing. What is it that you fret over? Do you feel hurt? Alone? Scared? Is it the past? present? Or perhaps the future?

That's it, isn't it. You're dwelling on the future. How far? An hour? A day? Weeks, months, years, a whole lifetime?

Think of what's expected of you, girlie. You can't just be educated, you have to be the supreme. Top honors. International diplomas. Recognition. College. That's when you decide exactly what you're going to be in life...but you won't choose, will you. You'll only do what's expected of you. What they tell you will be good, what will contribute to society, what will hold your family together, what will make money.

And that's what it's all about when you boil down to it. Money. Money and success. You have to have a better job than everyone else, have to have a higher income, bigger house, fancier car, more beautiful glamorous life and oh, you wish that came easily, don't you? It's nice to be smart, I bet. It's nice to be a genius. But genius gets you nowhere if you can't use it for anything. Otherwise you're just another eccentric, a bum living in the dangerous low-class side of town, day in and day out just scribbling, realizing things that won't matter a damn to anyone else in the world but you. God forbid you ever, ever make something of yourself, because that's just not quite as fun, is it.

But what can you do? You fear what will come of you if you can't meet expectations. If you fail to succeed, then you fail the universe. What little purpose you have now is nothing compared to later. When you are old enough to contribute, and yet you don't? You're simply a blockage in other people's lives. Nothing more than an irritation, a bug, if you will. Too large to be squashed but too small to matter, destined to die of its own accord.

And then what happens, hm?

Now now, quit the tears. I'm not saying anything you didn't already know.

Unless...there's something else you're worrying over?

Oh, I see. This isn't your primary concern? Or perhaps, just one of many?

You want to escape, that's it. But from what? You feel that these walls hold you in? Like a tomb, I suppose. You'll die in this cell of a home. Who can contribute when they have no chance to find their potential?

I'm wrong, am I?

Then it's not the outside you want to escape from.

It is the Self.

You're confused, scared by the mechinations of your own mind. You want to know how it works, why you think what you think. Why no one else thinks like you do, and if that is the case who can you go to for help. You would give anything to simply flip a switch and be brainless for just an hour, just a few minutes of simplicity. No worrying about the complexities of life. No worrying if your mind has a mind, if what you see isn't always what you get, if nothing is real at all and life, the universe, everything is simply an illusion. You can set aside purpose. Just be. Wouldn't you like that, girlie?

Too bad things don't work like that.

And yet you still sit there? Shall you let the tears fall until they erode you inside and out? Let existence steal the reigns as you feel sorry for yourself for all eternity? Even past your expiration, what shall you think of yourself? "Oh, how I wish I had acquired, had done, had been!"

If you dislike the walls then break them down. Keep an open mind about everything so you don't have to worry about what is real and what is not. Success is false, society matters not, Fate is a paper shackle. Live by your own convictions. Face consequence as it comes; there will be consequence still if you remain as you are.
Stand. Dry the tears. Step out. Face the world. Let the wind whisk you up and away. You will find solace outside your shell.

The answer may lie as close as your open window.

Now see? Haven't you a good head on your shoulders.