prismaticbleed | unreachable

Okay, update two for today because I just remembered several things I forgot to talk about what with the insanity that has been life lately.

First, although I'm settling quite nicely into this post-scratch timeline, I've realized a problem. Stuff from the old timeline is lingering, in places where energy sticks.
Yes, our past actions and history were "deleted" when the scratch-reset occurred, but they still happened, and their consequences still echo through space and time.
Tumblr contributed to this realization too, with a post I just saw on my dashboard concerning Doctor Who: "it’s just been The Doctor solving all the problems encountered by simply resetting the universe so that none of said problems happened or ever will happen, but everyone conveniently remembers the events prior to the reset anyway."
Sandman warned me about all of that. He said that even if I deleted my personal timeline, it would "still exist" in that vague sense, and it would also be accessible to those who knew how to reach it... and I do have a Doctor-esque fellow actively trying to reconstruct our past-life after it was torn to shreds.
Don't get me wrong, I love my boss to death, but the fact that no one would let me permanently die just ticks me off.
Why in the world else would I go through all of that psychological torment to sever myself from headspace?? I was trying to get a "game over." I DIDN'T WANT TO CONTINUE.
But, apparently I was "supposed to." My dying in the scratch attempt wasn't something that could happen, apparently.
Then again, that's what I was talking about in this entry...

And then there's the glaring yet astounding fact that other people didn't want me to die.
I never factored that concept into my decision. It really didn't even cross my mind.
I wanted to die, to fade away forever, and I didn't care whether or not people would miss me. I still don't.
I still lie awake at night, praying for it to happen again, that this time I would be wiped out when the record broke, that this time I would fade away when the second hand stopped moving. I pray that, this time, no one will come back for me, and I can finally fade away into oblivion.
But every time, I remember what I was told.
"Child, you don't understand the extent of what you have just tried to do."
For some dumb reason I'm supposed to live. I don't understand why. Apparently it's important. Apparently I'm important.
All I know for sure is that I'm sick of being a narcissist and I hate being important already.
I don't want to screw up, and take everyone else down with me.

Anyway. That's enough of that.

In other news, I was forced to log back into my series-based dA account lately, because extra-fenix was selling commissions and I used my last $5 to buy THIS for Xenophon for her birthday.

Why yes, that is her, as a Chao.
I absolutely could not pass up that opportunity. It was too perfect.

I do need sleep though, and I need to try and fix whatever the heck in me caused that depressive meltdown just now.
Plus headspace is just... insane, lately. I still don't know whether or not I should continue my huge "go back and review + document everything" project concerning my old entries, because that takes up a lot of time and effort, and it wears me out. Still, it may be required, what with all the old things resurfacing.

I don't know. It just doesn't seem worth it, some days.
I mean... one of the biggest reasons why I tried to scratch everything to pieces on the 24th was so that I could work on my series again. Unfortunately the scratch attempt itself was so psychologically harrowing that I couldn't work for that first week, at all, and that weekend was when my boss suddenly appeared and was all "dude that was not cool," albeit in much more Sandman-y language.
But, since then, I really haven't worked on my "work" at all... and part of it is actually because (once again) I'm sick of being "important." Part of me is actually sick and tired of everyone asking me "oh, have you done any drawings lately?" "are you still writing music?" "you need to get your book published!"
Stop. Please, just stop. THIS IS NOT ABOUT ME.
I've said it a thousand times and I will say it again: I only do this work because I was TOLD TO. I was given dreams and visions and all sorts of other messages telling me "you're the only person that can write our story down."
And you know what? Now, I honestly wish that I could give that honor to someone else.
I really wish I could just watch those stories unfold, instead of being in them. I love seeing other people get involved in the story. I love seeing their joy in reading and becoming part of it. What I DON'T love is being forced to be the "focal point" of all that simply because I'm the "author."
I would rather just be part of the crowd, loving those stories just as much as the next guy.
I don't know. I really don't know what to do here. I've lost all sense of purpose in my life; it feels utterly meaningless and I am literally counting the days until I just don't wake up anymore. I can't see my future like I used to when I first started to move into the White slot, back when I split my identity for that purpose. Maybe I should do that again.

Here's another thought. I just stumbled across a video on Youtube with a hero and sidekick pair, and the sidekick literally did EVERYTHING the hero told him to, without complaint, even at the risk of his own health or well-being.
I want to be like that, so badly. I want to be so selfless that I don't give a thought to what I'd "like or dislike" in any situation. I want to be able to suffer through hell and back if someone asks me to, without looking back even once, and doing the whole damn thing over again in a heartbeat if they weren't happy with my efforts the first time.
I want to be a nobody. I don't want an identity at all. I don't want a self. I don't want individuality or wants or needs or preferences or opinions, and I sure as hell don't want some godforsaken black tar shit insisting to the contrary.

Right now, I'm going to sleep, and forget everything.

Look who's running off again
Stupid useless aging wreck

But he will live this life
On his own time
On his own time

All their daggers have his name
But he loves them all the same

And he will live this life
On his own time
On his own time

We all circle back on decisions we made
Discover we're in crisis yet again

It's only your life
It's only your life
It's only your life
It's only your life