xxxxx

[prismaticbleed]

 

 

There's never enough blood. There's never enough blood.

I need to be reset. The verdict is final.
I don't care anymore. I can't cry anymore. I can't feel anymore. I'm a hollow empty white shell and I'm killing everyone else. I need to go.
There's already someone else growing in the wings, and has been for a while. They should be the main person. They're good. They don't do the things I do.

I'm numb. I'm numb. I'm numb. Cannon succeeded. She lived as a result but it was a dead life.
There are naked people in tumblr all the time, just like in college. thats why we stay away. but we can look at them now and not care. it's numb. "who gives a damn." except they still infect our subconscious and then the flashbacks happen again and it's awful and horrible and i don't CARE if you can look at them without feeling anything, maybe it was better when we WERE scared and repulsed because then we could PROTECT ourselves you ever think of that
the numbness kept us alive but this is no life, no life, no life


To hell with "art." Stop using that as an excuse for your hedonistic licentiousness and gluttony. Stop saying "but it's artistic! But it's creative expression!" SCREW YOU. You saw exactly where that got us today, and if you're going to still smile and even shrug and say "I'm incapable of shame now! Isn't that great! Life is beautiful!" while Knife is a sobbing wreck and the body is swollen and bleeding and sick, I will kill you.


No, I won't stand for this. I will personally murder you first. I am sick and tired of this.
Jay called me useless today. Useless. I've known he was slipping for a while now but I stopped caring too. You see? I don't care anymore. I'm useless, my job is shot, I'm a bleeding wreck. I can't tell what's right and what's not anymore and I let you get away with your garbage because you've convinced me that I'm just supposed to stand around and watch. Stop caring. Stop judging. Well to hell with apathy. When I cared and judged and slaughtered people like you, the System actually worked. We actually had something functional. We tried to be better. Not like this. Not like this living nightmare. I'm done.
Kill me, Jay. I swear to God, kill me or I'll do it myself. I'm done. I'm sick of this. I've lost my anchor and I've failed my purpose and I literally do not deserve to exist right now. Kill me or else.
11:11. God damn it.
If the System needs me I'll come back.
God I'm going to cry, this is ridiculous. Where are we. Where are we. What are we even doing.
I still care, damn it. I still care.
The arm scars came back. I think it's because I wanted the reminder. The body isn't giving me the new ones. I can feel 'em now, kid, and I'm at least disgustedly grateful that the code is being followed. "Thou shalt not disfigure the soul," are we adopting that now? Because it works, for this. Screw around with our collective spirit and you've gotta bleed for it.
I just wish that the bitches responsible were the ones bleeding. But they don't care. They're gone by the time the blade is out.
...Except sometimes, it's you. Except far too bloody often now, it's you doing the screwing around, and you're so bloody dazed I can't tell what I'm supposed to do. It's not a hack, you're not doing anything to me, you're just in pain and you're looking to purge something and what the heck am I supposed to do? When you insist that you're suffering on purpose, in order to atone for some other sin, and then I forget to think logically and realize that two wrongs do not ever make a right. You're just layering the scars, kid. You're killing us.

...You're not the Jay I knew. I think we all know that. We don't know who you are.
You've splintered again, or Scratched yourself, or something. I wish I could pinpoint a date. Maybe it was last December, who knows. But you... you don't know us. You don't quite care. You're empty. Jay wasn't.
He's still here, the cupcake-haired dude with the glitter in his eyes. But you're tied to him somehow. I know that, kid I've seen the switch happen. He's frayed on the inside and he can't function like this at all.
God, I just... don't know. What do we do. Who is our core, is it Jewel again, with all this Dream World work? Heck, if I have to stop existing in order to let that happen, then so be it, as long as it annihilates this hack hell along with it. Except the Leagueworlds have been suffering from hacks too, for years now, and that's the only reason we nearly died in the past.
I wonder if that's why we're so bloody numb, now. If it got so intolerably bad, so incomprehensible for him, to realize just how horrible this hack situation really was... he just blanked out. Numbed out. Stopped splitting into us because he just didn't want to even exist anymore.
I'd prefer a plethora of rainbow faces, if you don't mind. I wouldn't care if there were 200 more of us by tomorrow. As long as it brings you back, Jay. Jewel. Cannon. Whoever you are and were. The Core, the real one, the kid with hope and love and trust who loved me and saw the light in everyone. You. Come back. I'll endure anything if it will bring you back.
Anything but this, at least. There's a song about that, you'd appreciate the joke. But I can't. I can't do this, I can't sacrifice my integrity and function just because I'm so desperate with hope I'm blinding myself. Just like you, I guess.
I miss you, kid. We all do. I miss life. I'm not sure what the heck is going on, or what we're supposed to become, but... this isn't it. You keep insisting it is, whoever you are, the person around now. But you're glossing over this reality and everyone knows it.
Hey, readers. You know who you are, and thanks for being there. Did you know this kid is still bloody abusing? That the hacks haven't stopped, and are practically daily now? He's dissociated all the bloody time, the 'bulimia' is in full swing, he's not sleeping well, he's always tired, he feels utterly purposeless. I wonder why, hint hint. Except Jewel doesn't. She's typing, but then she's only around to type. We still haven't got the social thing down after how many years. Too much programming. But yeah, has he been telling you just how bad it actually is lately? No, of course not. He keeps sugarcoating it, swearing up and down that it's "God's will" somehow for him to be stuck in a loop of self-sabotage and misery. It's torture.
Yeah, there are good days. There are some genuinely good days lately, too. My only complaint is that they're existential. They're... we're not there. No one is there. His 'good days' are often decided in the last five minutes before sleep, when he looks back on the past 24 hours and, since he is content at the moment, decides everything was a-okay. "Good days."
He's prone to say today was good, too. Except I know it wasn't, not entirely. And that's the key. Not entirely. Yeah, sure, take the whole package as a learning experience, but don't pretend that bad things didn't occur. For heaven's sake, Jay. He was screaming for a half hour in the car today, screaming and sobbing, because he actively ignored his heart or something. He refused to follow something he genuinely, sincerely wanted, something positive and healthy. He shot it down, didn't do it. I don't want to look at anything after that, Garrison, thanks but no thanks. Suffice to say it was bad. "Very bad," he emphasizes. Three hours. What the heck, kid.
...I don't know. I'm heartbroken. I want to die, hoping maybe I'll wake up when I do and discover all this was a bad dream or something. Unreal. A mirage. God I wish. I wish all of this agony was just a hallucination.
...
I've got nothing else to say. Just needed to vent. I'm sure Jewel wants to get back to work on here, God willing that will help things calm down a little. It's just so cruelly hard to "cheer up" after a hack, and frankly that's been my vice lately. Should we? I know Jay's heart aches that this torture is still happening, mine is too, but... anger and sorrow and rage and regret and even determination are waiting in the wings. The bad used to bring a better, sharper sort of good. The blood used to be a battle march. Now it's just red tears and pain. And it's never enough, not now. The retributors cut more than ever, it's desperate.
Sorry. Numbness is kicking in and I'm slipping. Again, should I fight it, yada yada, cowardly nonsense all the way through.
You know what, yes, I am going to fight this with everything I've got left.
Listen. Hacks are straight-up evil. We have every right in the book to be furious that they happened, to try and prevent them from happening again, and to severely punish the people responsible for that crime. Okay? No pansy pacifist idiocy where you let people murder you with a smile. To hell with that, back where it came from. I'm sick of not being able to fight, or being allowed to fight even, it's burning me out I think. That's probably why I'm slipping. I'm supposed to be the axe-warrior up here, I'm supposed to be the knight in shining armor, cutting down dragons from hell and saving princes in distress and all that. They've got me relegated to a freakin' chair in the royal court, shiny and all but not worth a jot, and the bombs are falling outside. I'll pick up this freakin' furniture and break the castle doors down if you won't let me out, so help me. Just give me a sword for heaven's sake, I refuse to let this kingdom fall even if you insist it's "going to happen." Yeah no kidding it's going to happen if you don't move! But you're convinced that non-action is the way to go. Sheesh. If this is what those new-age yoga princesses or whatever you call them did, then they can go jump in a lake. That's complete nonsense on my clock, and I'm sorry, but I refuse to follow that doctrine anymore, even if I only ever did it for your sake, kid.
There's a heavy as hell numbness in here, like a fogbank made of cotton. It's heavy. How the heck long has it been building up. We're going to need to burn it down or something soon, fast.
There's got to be a way we can come back, without this thing kicking us out. We've gotta convince this blank-eyed fronter that fighting back is the "right thing to do" in this situation, because it IS, and deep down you know it-- would you condone this action if they asked you? If a tar-handed hacker asked you, "can I literally desecrate your body," would you say "sure" just because you're still convinced that saying "no" is wrong?? Because at this point I think you would. You'd think, "they must know better than I do, maybe this is God's will," forgetting that maybe "God" is waiting for you to speak up for once, you ever think of that?
Someone in this System is playing with the idea that they're nonhuman and a touch divine, like Chaos, even like Infi. I'm willing to back them up on that mindset if it powers their soul-preservation, if it makes them treat this body and mind and heart like a temple of God again, if it makes them want the moral best for us and themselves. If seeing yourself as a bit angelic means honestly caring about our well-being again then so be it, you go for it. Acknowledge your God-mirrored 'divinity' and ours, you keep insisting it's there, and then brushing it aside whenever someone decides to ignore it. Take a stand, seriously. If you don't we're all going to end up dead, and God knows we're too far down that road already.
How many times have I lectured him on this. How many times. Not enough. Heh, that's relevant.

I'm gonna quit talking, seriously. I've got a bit of warrior's hope now, getting riled up like that. We can build a new day, we can be the dawn after the hell of a night. If I can redeem myself somehow, maybe I won't have to die to prove it first. I don't know. That desperation is stuck in my ribs like icicles now and that is freaking me the heck out. Is this what White corruption is like? Poor kid. No wonder he's so messed up. This would crush anyone who got it too bad.


I'm out. See you whenever.
Good to be alive at least, in principle. Can't do a thing if you're dead.