nov 17 2014

[prismaticbleed]

 

 

 

(a warning-- this entry happened during a very bad time and i apologize for any weird or depressing stuff in it)





Nothing scares me more than God.
God sees no difference between what we label 'good' and 'evil.' God would just as soon slit your throat as save your life.
God watched the wars and rapes and said they were His will. Somehow.
God slaughtered men, women, and children in that Holy Book. Why should today be any different?

Demons are ravaging me. I want to kill them, strangle them, tear them to pieces.
The yoga-princess types online say no, no don't do that, surrender and enjoy the moment! "Once you start enjoying pain, things start to get interesting!"
Two words: SCREW THAT.
Cannon did that. Cannon learned how to do that, for years. Guess why we're so broken now?
And you're telling me to lay down my weapons, and bare my neck to the executioner? Say "go ahead, have your way with me," and then smile and enjoy it as they do???
Screw that. I can't enjoy it. Okay? I have tried. Those demons don't leave me the hell alone, they make me feel so sick and tired and disgusting that sometimes I give in just to have peace for the rest of the evening. Peace, pain, blood, regret, and nausea, but peace nonetheless. It's sad.

I can't find headspace. I've been working on the Leagueworlds lately and I fear they've become too corrupted. Sick, but I'm apathetic now. For years I refused to share any of my work because I had seen what "fandoms" did, I knew the torture they could wreak on those who resided in 'fiction,' I knew how horribly they could manipulate the stories I held. I was terrified. But then what would I do? If I couldn't share my work, it would die with me.
So now I'm numb. Now you damned demons have scarred enough of my brain for me to not be able to tell what's true and what's not anymore. Now I suppose I don't care anymore, except I do. Except the thought of someone drawing or writing or thinking such perverted, frightening things about one of the OCs I've come to adore is abominable. I can't allow it. I suppose it's a chance I cannot avoid taking. But I will not allow it.

Go back to hell, you heathen whores. All you false prophets and spiritual guru nutjobs. To hell with you and your ass-up yoga positions and whispery shit mantras and "sexual freedom." To hell with you.
I'm sorry for how ugly this sounds, and for repeating this yet again, but it's not going away.

God wouldn't care. That's what they tell me now.
As a child I was told that God cried, God mourned and sobbed, when his children were butchered by the millions, or when even one of his children was left to die alone. I was told, as a child, that our God was a loving God who saw each and every individual as sacred and lovable and worthy of protection and safety.
But then I was told that some people were going straight to hell, do not pass Go, et cetera. I would wonder: whose children were they, then? God created them, didn't He? So why would He send them to burn forever? I didn't understand, and I still don't.
Now, though, my brain is numb from trying to understand what these new anti-religious people are telling me through their smiles and vegan smoothies. "God is beyond good and evil." And in a way I know that, but it's terrifying still when they can say that while watching the news on television. Arson. Disease. Murder. Rape, the greatest evil. They wave their hands and say, "it's God's will." Or maybe they say, "there's a greater purpose."
In truth we do this to ourselves. We wreak evil all on our own. We put demons in the world, not God. We create hell right on this earth.
But is God watching like the fragments? Is he watching like the splinters? Cold, analytical, impassive?

I want to die but now, they've made me afraid of death. Now, they've convinced me that upon death, some "galactic federation" of aliens will be waiting for me, like a soldier returning from war. They will nod, and give me another mission, or whatever. No heaven, no dreams, no love. Just government and business.
I know it's not like that. It can't be. But that's how they present it, it seems. I don’t know.

I've always dreamed that upon dying, I will go nowhere for a while. I'll go to wherever it is that feels like Infinitii, untouched by the liars and whores. I'll go to the divine blackness, to the compassionate void, to a place where I am faceless and nameless and formless and alive. Forget birth and sex and all that shit. I don't want to be anything but nothing. That's what I've always hoped death is like. Even if I just stay there for a while, and then decide to incarnate somewhere else, that's fine.
I'm just… so scared of what those spiritual people say. You'll die, and then "wake up" in a place where it's just another daily grind. People to interact with, rules to follow, classes to attend, you get the idea. That scares me. I want a break from all that nonsense, please, for the love of anything I don't want to be a slave to another system. Please.
They act like this alien mission in our skies is the "one true reality." Well then, what happens when the aliens die, huh? Or do you claim they are immortal? I hope they aren't. I hope they die, too, so that you can't claim this stupidity anymore. I hope that death is a constant. I hope that transition periods back into blissful nothingness are mandatory. I hope that the concept of identity is just as hollow as I pray it is. Forget "true names" and all that rot. I'm so tired. Forget "twin flames" and all that asinine nonsense. Let me be dust. Let me be starlight. Let me be a mote and a nebula. Forget everything else.


I want to die. I don't know how. I'm scared of what I'll be leaving this life for.
For years, I was terrified that if I killed myself, I'd be "punished" by being forced to reincarnate as a sexual deviant, some sort of prostitute. I'd be stuck in that life, being forced to endure that sort of behavior, unable to escape. I didn't realize until last year how bizarre that belief was-- I always thought I'd reincarnate in someone else's head. Never in my own body, never as my own consciousness, so to speak. Always a carry-on in a different brain. Stuck. Scared.
It's kind of like that now, actually. This body is practically a carbon copy of the mother, right down to the astrology. It's terrifying. I don't remember the childhood, but there's a lingering "all my life" feeling, a fear, that I am not allowed to have my own life-- by divine decree, no less!-- because I HAVE to become the mother. I HAVE to imitate her every action and thought. I don't have a choice, you know, your chart says you're the same as her, so you'd better act like it!!
I'll never forget, the one time I actually called a legit astrologist on the phone. She did it professionally. I spoke to her for a while, gave her my info… she didn't believe I was born in a Taurus body. "You act nothing like a Taurus." And then she laughed. No condemnation, no demanding I adhere. It was one of the most freeing things I'd ever heard. "You act nothing like your mother."

I'm so scared of her, God I don't know WHY, I wish I could just talk to her and talk this out, somehow, but that's not possible. She gets violently angry and offended whenever I so much as suggest that I'm scared of her. "You blame me for everything!" "This is why I never come here!" "You f*cking kids make my life miserable!" And then of course the countless phrases damning me for being a freak/ psycho/ idiot/ failure/ etc.
It doesn't faze me anymore. The only thing that bothers me is the fact that she won't discuss this with me in a sensible fashion. I want to be able to say, effectively, "something about you triggers terror in my psyche, and it's making me act negatively towards you. I don't want to do that. Can we discuss this to try and find the roots of such a fear, because I sincerely don't remember about 70% of this lifetime?" And all I want her to do in return is say "okay, I'll be equally honest with you, and try to help you not be frightened of me anymore." I think. I actually don't know what I'd need her to say. I think I want her to just understand, is all. I want to apologize, profusely, because a lot of the things about her that terrify me, she's not doing on purpose for that reason. Certain bits of her actual personality, things that make her "her," scare me. Things she has no control over, concerning her own appearance or life, scare me. I know she's not doing this stuff on purpose. I don't hate her. She's just… she scares me to death because she looks like everything ugly inside my brain and the world keeps telling me that is my inescapable future. I CANNOT be her, because in order to copy her exactly, I would have to consciously go against my own innate tendencies, my own 'personality.' The world tells me that's not acceptable. The world tells me that I have no "innate tendencies" other than the ones my mother has. You HAVE to like this, you HAVE to do that, because SHE does, and you ARE her.
Why the hell is THIS my biggest fear?? In a joking way it's rather common, the "growing up to become your parent" fear, but this… this feels like disobeying will damn me, cruelly. The forces insisting I become her are not saying that for my own good. They are saying that because "the rules say so," because "this is the way it HAS to be," because I can't be a variable or a glitch or a different program altogether, I HAVE to follow the code. Screw that.

What do I want to be. I don't know. Dead, maybe.
Transitioning is helping. It's making this body look new in some places, something my continually fading memory has no data for, and that's nice. I cannot wait until the face begins to look notably different, probably not until we get some substantial facial hair. But it's such a profound comfort, to be able to look in the mirror and NOT see Sharon, or Jessica, or Jezebel, or Spinny.
Admittedly, currently we see Jayce, and if you'll forgive me he was kind of an ass. He and Pinstripe were not nice people, it's just how they were manifested. That time period was ugly in that sense. But they aren't permanent either, I'm sure.

I'm so tired. I'm so, so, so tired.
I want to go out. I want to go in, but I can't reach anything anymore, and that's the lesser of two evils. I'm so tired of being a person. Headspace fractures me too much. Heartspace is a different thing, it's where Infi lives, it's where the new realms are forming… things are strange. There's a difference. In heartspace I'm formless, I'm a ghost. I prefer that.
I miss being a pure watcher, for the League, but it's been so long… timelines are warped now. The past few years have mangled a lot of my perspective. I'm hoping and praying that I can destroy those timelines, breaking that misery off and letting it fade into oblivion. If I can do that, then by God I will. Let me be the psychopomp I've always sadly wanted to be. Let me break off all the branches that are keeping this tree from growing. Let me slice this timeline back into one pure path, so that space can finally blossom again.
After the Scratch, I wasn't supposed to be a destroyer figure anymore. But we all know what happened that summer.
It keeps looping. Late 2011, Julie switched sides, the Tar appeared, our entire method of functioning changed. Something happened in 2012 that erased most of the year, making time in general feel like shredded tissue paper. The disasters of early 2013 caused a massive implosion, effectively "erasing" a good part of our internal structure, and then Infi was born from the breakage, and the Underground opened up. Then, in the last weeks of 2013 there was another implosion, obliterating almost every foothold we had regained, and leaving us in a mess until now. And it feels like we're on the verge of another meltdown.
I still wonder, every day, if we were ever meant to rebuild at all.

I'm so tired. I do love headspace, I do. Some people are still reachable. Infinitii always is. The Jabberwock has been oddly close lately. For the most part I feel stuck right on the verge of the bodymap, right where the Chthonics are, before things break into the Downstairs/ Social level. I don't like that level, no offense to the people that live there. It just… it makes me want to cry. It feels so agitated and hollow. I don't like it here very much.

Therapy is tomorrow. I don't know what to say.
The body's been sick. Taking small smart steps towards improving that.

Oh, some good news at least. I've been making a lot of progress on Dream World lately, at least as far as cleaning-up goes. It's just a crushing amount of work. I currently have ten files open to compare notes, as well as two folders and several printouts on my desk. It makes me want to cry from frustration, it's overwhelming, I don't know where to start. So I'm just picking little things at random, working on them as much as I can. It's something.
I'm so worried about several characters. They've been so, so hurt by the Tar, by perspective corruption. I need to fix the timeline. All of that is FALSE. I know it is. I can feel how empty it is, how it leads literally nowhere, ending at a brick wall. It's not their life. I need to go back too, though, I think, in order to see things… I don't know. Maybe.
But work is happening.

I just wish the family wasn't so depressing, at least the grandparents. They are so bitter, so cynical, so hateful, it hurts. Yes I love them, yes they're good people, but even good people can be closed-minded and prejudiced and appallingly incapable of empathy. Right?
I don’t want to give any more energy to that topic, like my therapist forces me to do, then I get sick and want to vomit and can't talk anymore. No more. Just putting that out there. The family atmosphere is too depressing and spiteful to really keep up a good mood in easily. I hope that doesn't make me weak.

I want to make a Jigaria plushie but I have the wrong color fabric. Do you know, how important color is?? The slightest wrong shade changes the whole vibe. I think Jigaria's pink color is warmer, not cooler. There's a certain hot-pink shade that keeps getting stuck to her that is not correct, it warps the entire perspective of her. I disliked her for a while, because of that, she felt so shallow and fake. It's so sad, it's heartbreakingly sad, when did I forget who these people were? Did I ever know? Looking back on childhood memories, it shocks me actually, how little I knew… I never drew the main character, she didn't even have a name until last year, and yet I knew exactly who she was as a person… whereas her fellow Guardians, who I drew constantly, I didn't know as people at all.
I still consider it a hidden blessing that all our old art was lost. Yes, I still ache at the loss of the newer work, the heavy-duty development we'd started shortly before losing it all. But, now that the old stuff is gone, I can no longer pretend that's the "end-all." It's gone now. That half-finished work is no longer the final product. Now there is total freedom to rebuild, with true understanding. I hope. Talking like this hurts. It feels fake, like the high school days. Please forgive me. I don't want to become that sort of person again.

My mind is toxic. I know that. It hurts whatever it touches. I want to keep it far, far away from these worlds I was ordained to protect.
There's just so much noise from the outside now, making my vision blurry. I want to take a long time away from the internet, clear my head. There's too much danger there.

It's only 5:30. Dear lord the winter is rough, there's so much dark. I have 5 hours to go.

I need to meditate. The brain is too jumbled from all this stress. I can't do typing work if I can't think straight, although the number of files I am juggling isn't helping either. I should really narrow that down.

Sorry for the messy updates lately. I want to stop for a while but that just pushes me further into depressed oblivion, because when I don't write things down I forget all of it. Then I don’t know where I am or what I'm doing. So even if I do take a massive break from the internet there will likely be updates here every so often, posted from my computer. Just saying.

Good night. I really can't force myself to type anymore.