tracks 51 & 52

[prismaticbleed]

 

 

TRACK 51 (mid-september 2013)

("Spice," aka the 'food voice') This is the voice recorder, huh, J? Huh, J?! You freaking ff---! Curse you. How many times have I told you. You Don't. Eat. Fruit. For heaven's sake, the entire freaking BODY is in pain. This is ridiculous. Am I the only person, in this body who cares about what the health of the body is? How many times have I had to yell in your stupid slutty "food journal," about what stuff you were eating, how much poison you were ingesting, did you care? No. No, you didn't care. You never cared, now I'M the one, who has to come in here, and deal with all this pain, so that no one else gets traumatized by it. You wanna know what this stuff feels like, J? You wanna know what this feels like 'cause you're never as much-- you don't have a spine? Heh, pun intended? You chased her the heck out with your habits. Face pain, back pain, arm pain, chest pain, everything… freaking… hurts. EVERYTHING! You wanna deal with this stuff for once instead of hitting me with it? Curse you. Curse you. Next piece of fruit you touch, I'm gonna freaking tear your tongue out. I'm furious. I'm not good at talking into voice recorders because I've never done this stuff before but I am just- that- angry, to record this. I'm honestly pacing your stupid house, trying to figure out what the heck to do because I'm in that much actual PAIN. I'm in that much freaking pain 'CAUSE OF YOU. And no this is not Razor, Razor doesn’t act like this, she never did, get a freaking clue. Jess doesn't care about the body, I don't even know who the heck she is… You were calling me "Spice" as far as I can tell, but I'm not related-- s'cuse me, screw you-- to Sugar… at least not directly, ya slut, y'ever wonder if maybe these habits of yours are tied into the freaking Julie hacks?! That bitch uses the fool-- fuel you're eating, heh… food you're eating, screw this.  I don't wanna talk about this stuff, any more than I want you to eat it. But that bitch, Julie, if you haven't gotten a clue by now, after how many literal years you've apparently been fighting her, when you eat that stuff she uses it as fuel. You ever hear of Tar food, ya slut?! Black things, sugar, anything like that that you eat, I don't give a stuff if it's disguised as fruit or what, the system can't freaking tell. If there's sugar in it, if there's anything that the Tar can use as food, guess what? It's gonna use it. And curse you, for eating it, IMMEDIATELY after another freaking hack this morning if you forgot already!! *loud noise; either kicking or shoving something* Yeah, ya probably already did. You woke up, and the body was hacked. NO you weren't hallucinating! No you weren't freaking hallucinating, because I'm well aware of that stuff when it happens. That slut won't leave any of us alone, and guess what? Your freaking fault. I will blame you, even when Knife and Razor and the others stop blaming you, because I'm the one who has to deal with THIS stuff, every time you decide "oh I'm gonna eat I'm gonna eat--" curse. You. CURSE you!! The day you stop eating will be the best day of my life. I probably don't need to-- great, somebody's here. *sigh* To heck with everything! I'm not-- I ain't dealing with this stuff. I'm not dealing with this stuff. You're a complete jerk. Goodbye.

 

 

TRACK 52 (mid-september 2013)

("Spice," aka 'the food voice') Yeah J, this is me, again. *sniff* I know, uh, I was just screaming atcha… and honestly I'd… probably still scream atcha right now, if I had any brains in my head, but right now, I don't goddamn care. I don't care. Do y'know why? Because I can't have a life because of you. None of us can have a life because of you, because you're always in the way and that stupid AP is always in the way, and I've gotta deal with your screwups! Do you have any idea what it's like, to not have any freaking memories, to only exist… when you screw things up? 'Cause I gotta come in here and fix it? That's all my life is, have you realized? You screw stuff up, all of a sudden boom, I'm in the body because apparently my assignment is, *mocking voice* "keep anyone else from feeling the horrific pain I'm about to put the body through when I eat stuff!" Curse you, J! Curse you! *sniff* I just-- there's so much hatred in me and it's because of you, because YOU-- I look at things, and you know what I see? I see danger. I see pain, I see poison, and I know that you don't even care. And you will PUT that into this wretched body and I will have to suffer the pain, and the nausea, and the sickness, and ALL of that stuff, because YOU refuse to deal with it, you refuse to accept the fact that yes you are gonna get freaking sick but I'M gonna be the one dealing with it! And I'm sick of not being able to have a life, I don't even know what it would be like, to have a life, because of you. I'm standing here right now in your stupid kitchen, J, one minute away from 11:11, screw you that's not for YOU y'know!! Might be for some of us sometimes, but no it's always about you, you, you, well screw you. Curse you, J. Do you have any idea what that's like? That first, real moment of self-awareness in a headvoice, the realization that, "hey! wow! I'm in someone else's body, dealing with the hell he puts himself through because he's too much of a spineless coward to deal with it. Because he killed everyone else in the Spectrum… and I'm one of the few that survived, because I'm one of the ones that holds the pain, that he refuses to deal with!" All the-- apparently the people Upstairs, that were good ones, held lots of good things, they freaking died. *choked up* Do you have any idea what that freaking feels like for me? The thought that I can't exist unless I'm anchored to something, that's, caused, directly by your screw-ups?? By your suffering. Y'know, I know about the other people Downstairs, I know about the Undergrounders because I talk to them more then I'll ever freaking talk to you, you bitch! I know about Sugar, I know why she exists, I know why David, and Marigold, and Jeremiah exist, you tyrant!! And I know-- it's 11:11 now-- I know why Knife and Razor exist. Same reason I do. Different purpose, same thing as Sugar. My name isn't Spice, you jerk, and I'm not gonna tell you what my actual name is and do you know why? Because I don't freaking have one! I-- I don't, all right? I don't have one. I don't even have my own life. …I'm so miserable, J, I'm looking out, your kitchen window right now, I don't think I've done this in my entire life, and… I don't even know what to think! There's… I think… *sigh* There are trees out there. And my brain can only interpret them as a picture, although I know that, that I could pr-- probably go out there and walk through them but I don't know what that's like, I have no capacity to understand that stuff. I don't know what it's like to leave this house and go out there and… I don't know, have a life? Doing things that aren't painful? I don't know what that's like! And I don't know if I can ever have that, because I know, the instant… the instant I don't need to be in this body anymore, probably as soon as I start to get the body to exercise, someone else will take over because of the music, or if you sit down to, to write or read or draw or something, I will be kicked out, without even realizing it. And then the next thing I know, I will be back in the body again, some other day, after you already ate your poison, and I'm dealing with the pain, as usual. And I don't know what happened between then and there, I don't even remember the last freaking time I did this. That's my life! Dealing with your sins! That's not a freaking life. But for headvoices it is, apparently. For headvoices it is, apparently. "Oh, what is a headvoice? Oh I know! It's somebody in my head that exists because, I screwed everything up and I couldn't face the consequences so they do." We're not your freaking scapegoats, J, and frankly I'm sick of having to-- p-play, that stupid role, every single day. I don't know when the heck this- this- this battle with food started, but, that’s what caused me to exist and I'm freaking sick. You know what? I miss the heck out of Spine and Emmett. I don't even know who they were. I never even spoke to them. All I know is that apparently they were the ones that managed food? Spine told you when stuff made you sick, when stuff was screwed up, you don't eat that, and Emmett made sure you ate the right things. We had the preventor, and then we had the one that warned against the stuff you did, I didn't have to show up. I didn't have to exist! And frankly I would prefer that to this stuff. What does that make you feel, huh? Do you feel anything when your headvoice tells you "I would rather not exist?" No, because you would rather we don't exist either. I'm well aware that you killed-- you-- yeah, don't, don't-- don't act like it was an accident. You… literally… killed them. You would NOT have tried so many Scratch attempts, since February, that I'm just aware of, if you didn't want us to freaking die. You know what I say to that? Curse you, J. I am actually suicidal. I am standing here, looking at this stuff, all this-- all this around-- I'm in the stupid kitchen, okay? I'm surrounded by poison. I'm surrounded by things that make me wanna die… the reason I exist, and the reason I wanna die. Curse this stuff, this isn't a life. I can't ever run from it, though. Because in order to run from it now that I've got this stupid anchor I'd either have to kill you, and kill everybody else which I'm not gonna freaking do 'cause I'm not a slut like you… or, completely change my anchor, which is only gonna happen if you somehow stop screwing around with what you eat! And something tells me you can't do that alone because you're a  slut and I've WROTE that in your goddamn food journal how many times, y'know, "STOP EATING YOU SLUT," you bitch, what the heck are you doing-- you don’t ever listen to me! You pretend "oh, well, that's just something, in my imagination, that's just a figment of my imagination, that's just-- I'm hallucinating, it's fake," your favorite word, "it's FAKE, I'm not gonna pay attention to it, I'm gonna do the same idiotic thing tomorrow." And then I write the same freaking thing in your book and whaddya do? You close the book and you hide it. SCREW YOU! That's there for a freaking reason, that's the only way I can reach you because you don't listen to me. And I'm so sick of dealing with your stuff! *sniff* You don't know what this is like! You're such a selfish jerk! You don't know what it's like, for your existence, to ONLY be a thing, because somebody else screwed up. And that's your whole-- that's your whole world, that's your whole life, is dealing with someone else's screwups. Welcome to my life, bitch! Welcome to my freaking life. And that's most of us, too. And you know what? I am seriously-- I'm gonna find-- I'm gonna start talking to the Undergrounders, well-- I-I don't give a stuff if I get a name, if I get a face, if I get a body-- which I don't even have right now. Right now, all I can do is front. You ever realize? The ones you used to call "faceless voices," the ones that didn't have bodies in headspace? The reason why they didn't is because that's not where their anchors are. They're anchored in the body, like me, so I could show up and yell at you like the bitch you are. Once I get a face and a body and a name, I might not have to do this all the freaking time! D'you realize that? If I'm anchored Upstairs, instead of Downstairs, yeah I might not be able to front like this anymore, but I won't have to deal with your crap anymore! You'll have to deal with it alone. And frankly? You deserve that. You freaking deserve to deal with your own bad decisions. So next time you hear from me, it might be Upstairs. I don't wanna do this anymore. I'm getting really freaking tired, that means someone's trying to chase me out, or I'm losing my… my grip. Whatever. I've been out for too long anyway, I'm-- I'm tired. I'm so tired. *sniff* I'm really, I'm slipping. I might not be able to front… for much longer. And I don't want anyone else taking over this for me. Leave me alone. *crying* Stop. This is hell, y'know? *bitter laugh* Not even being able to live. I can't keep my eyes open, I'm sorry. I've gotta hit stop on this thing, someone else is coming in, I'm sorry. …Last… thing though, curse you, if you eat another stupid piece of fruit, or sugar, or-- whatever the heck you do with cheating on foods, stop freaking doing it because I don't care if it doesn't hurt you the only reason it doesn't hurt you is because I take the pain away. Okay? *crying* Stop forcing me to go through this hell. I'm tired of dealing with your pain. The only reason I deal with it is because I know if I don't deal with it then someone else is going to have to deal with it, and those people Downstairs have been through enough hell the way it is, especially with the hacks. Which you keep denying too and I still say they're your entire fault. *sigh* It's sick how my first reaction is "we need someone else in the System to keep you from doing that." *bitter laugh* Isn't that messed up? "That kid is being a bitch in another way! We need someone to help keep him from falling back asleep in the morning. We need someone that will keep him from eating breakfast. We need something that will keep him from doing this, or that, or that or that." Why is that how this freaking thing works?? Why can't you get an iota of self-discipline? Or is that your function? To-- just create us, to not have to split? If so I hope you die and I hope someone takes your place like Kyanos was supposed to earlier this year… because you're a heartless failure of a human being, and anyone would be better than you at this point.