prismaticbleed: (shatter)


(completely uncensored, brutally triggering & disturbing entry. please be careful.)



 

So Cupid was out tonight, with his red lights, as he was back in 2011 or whenever.
Remember he was the original "Eros" and holds the "public associations" with that name.

He's highly sexual but he's incapable of lust which is interesting but still problematic, because he doesn't understand how anyone could say no to it as a result.
He's not abusive. But he counts as a lost hacker because his passive coercion is EXACTLY what shoved us into abuse WAY too many times physically, and so even if he "means well" he is absolutely disrespecting the choices of others, and THAT STILL COUNTS AS ABUSE IN MY BOOK.

…that's another thing we need to speak up about. It's another thing we (I?) hated old friends for, if I may be so blunt. Ignorance of boundaries, of "safe space," or things within those lines… because
we never spoke up about it out of fear that "we had no right to HAVE objections to anyone else's behavior if they meant well."BULL SHIT.
So miss blank-smiley-face comes out, numb to the hysterical panic she
always comes out to muffle, just trying to keep a socially acceptable front while inside we're weeping and the kids are screaming and in the past, we never said a fucking word.
Now Wreckage comes out. Now she
fights. Now people are too damn angry with our own past self-neglect and we're refusing to stomp on those gut feelings when they come up.
But… but it's only in
negative situations, yet. That's progress, but… but they can still lie, and THAT'S when we get scared and confused.
Cupid comes out, and he's all gentle and solid and loving and giving, BUT he
doesn't understand rejection and so he can't understand when people say NO to him.
Chaos always does. Celebi always does. They're the only two he really asks now… I know there were two others in the past, but… one is dead and the other doesn't exist in headspace.
…Cupid was born to try and reconcile our stupidly passionate ardor towards everything with the constant outside social demand that "it HAS to be sexual!!! if you love something that potently it HAS to be sexual!!!!" or even WORSE, even WORSE, and
that's the source of so much hatred it's nauseating-- even worse, we get the message that "if you love someone that intimately, it has to be lust."
bull. fucking.
shit.
Cupid was at least proof that it
isn't.
…But he's also the fear that we still only have
that option of expression, something that doesn't even fit, something that doesn't even fucking WORK and even HE dissociates from it!!!!!! What the hell does THAT tell you????!!?

…The sheer
amount of symptoms we get from this shit is bad enough.
muscle twitches, headaches, nausea, unease, sorrow/ guilt/ fear, dizziness, clumsiness, body weakness, sweating, anxiety, compulsive crying, chills… the list goes on.
every. damn. TIME.
WHY THE HELL DOES THIS DATA NOT REACH THE CULPRITS????????


I'm sorry. I'm just… channeling all the anger for this shit. "That's my job" and all that. I'm just a mouthpiece for the rage. I have no knowledge of this firsthand and I DON'T WANT IT.


Anyway. As a result I can't talk much about Cupid's experience of all this other than the knowledge that he's
terribly lost and confused now that he CAN'T stay half-ignorant and depersonalized, now that people are REFUSING TO LET HIM COERCE THEM. Now Cupid is forced to really look at what the hell he's attempting and WHY people keep refusing to do it, "even though he loves them," and "even though they love him."
That's Cupid's
curse. He was born from the false, false, FALSE message delivered with good intentions-- and God help us with that-- telling us that "if you really love someone, if you completely love someone, you have to do that with them, no matter what, eventually."
That's where all the fear-based love-based forcing came from. Isn't
that a conundrum?
"I love you so they say we
have to do this but I don't like it and it hurts and I'm terrified and no matter how many times I try it never ever EVER works… but I love you and I'm so scared that if I don't do this then my love's not real, it's not complete, it's not complete, even if this feels like shredding me into pieces."

it's bullshit.

Laurie doesn't like us stealing her phrase but now she looks really worried, she's upset that we
need that phrase to describe what we're talking about,

she says she's trying to keep her distance from this actual discussion. Says she's a protector, a knight, someone who saves the lost and hurt,
not someone who digs through this dirt. Other people can do that job. Laurie would die if she looked at this head-on.
I'm afraid she's been trying too much already, out of fear, out of panic, feeling she's not doing enough, feeling there has to be something more she can do to save people… she's trying too hard, numbing too much out, hurting too badly, and she's
slipping REALLY badly and if she's not careful she's going to end up dying, killing herself from the effort. She's already splintering just to cope. That's gotta stop.



Tomorrow is therapy. I wonder if we can get someone
out to talk about this.
I don't mean the hacks, she knows enough about them.
I mean the
roots of WHY they keep happening, the roots even beneath the misleading outside words, the roots that unintentionally feed the fears that bear fruits of self-annihilation and sacrifice "for someone's better good."
even for cupid. it's always that motivation. "they said this could be an expression of love,"
was I
ever? did it ever work?
the
one time you tried harder than ever, the first damn time you EVER decided to risk every fucking thing JUST to heal this, for the sake of love, for the sake of God and healing and peace,
guess what,
you almost fucking
killed yourself.
the pain, the regret, the guilt, the shame, was unbearable,
and why?
because it didn't live up to their fucking promises AT ALL.

and you
hated yourself for having ever believed that bullshit,
once you experienced firsthand how inadequate it all was.

yeah, you tried. we all know cupid tried WAY too hard that year, to fix things.
we all know that even after the reset, infinitii was born to
keep trying too hard from a different perspective.
there was never any lust in it. there was always too much love in it.
but the problem was that in every single case
you forgot you had a body.
it only ever worked on paper.
it only ever worked as a concept.
do you realize this? do you understand this, cupid? jacinth? all you other lost 'hackers?'
do you realize what it means for
that term to be applied to you?
"but we're not hacking anyone," he pleads, "but we're not hurting anyone,"
you are.
"but I didn't mean to,"
but you did.
"how? it's not supposed to hurt!"
have you ever fucking felt it yourself?
LOOK at your damn memories!! actually FEEL what the damn BODY is doing for once, get out of your idealized head and FEEL what the hell you're ACTUALLY DOING.
…and he shuts up.
shuts it
out.
talk to me, damn it.
(now laurie's watching over my shoulder.)

Kid, talk.
…about what?
About this. Whatever she asked you. Do you realize what you were doing?
…I didn't want to do that.
Uh-huh, and there it is. Well guess what? You did. Can you fucking cope with that?
No.
Now we're blacking out, shit. Overload, get your ass back in here, he's gone.

…What did you do?
Asked him if he realized what he was really doing, which required cognizance of the body. Guess what? Instant fucking dissociation. Can't cope. It's like that with all of them, God damn it, NONE of them can front in the body, not ever, and then they wonder why the hell we're getting trauma flashbacks? Why the hell they're actually perpetuating trauma and don't realize it?
How don't they even realize that they're in the body?
Because they're not. They're totally outside of it, detached from it completely. For Eros, this… wait, no. Eros broke off of that shit. Cupid's the one we're talking about. …
…He's dead, isn't he.
Eros? …Yeah, temporarily. Jay said he won't come back until we fix this, he refuses to get dragged into it again. …Good for him.
…So what's Cupid doing that's perpetuating this?
You said it yourself, kid, he's forgetting that the… whatever the hell he's doing, this drive to "merge" with people or whatever, to express "sensual love" or however it translates for him--
That's the wrong term, it's not 'sensual.'
Yeah, I got that, but it's… close enough? Shit, that's a problem right there, it's going to translate wrong and fuck everything up if we don't find a better word.
Can you define it?...
Me? Fuck no, I-- Sherlock, get in here, define that shit.
Me?
Can you get the data?
I-- let me see. …It's the merge drive, Laurie, just like you said.
Shit.
And it only translates for humans-- average humans-- in a physical context. In a literal sense.
And they told him it "has" to be that way, right?
Right, for religious purposes. You're as well aware of the amount of spiritual research that has gone into this topic as I am, Laurie.
…Yeah, no shit. Too damn much.
Too much indeed, I agree. …Laurie, the head is slipping very badly, do you need anything else from me?
Nah, not until we get our shit together is all. Maybe then we will, maybe then we won't even be talking. But shit, this is why we can't talk about this topic to the therapist, because the brain immediately shuts down.
It can't cope either, Laurie.
…Yeah, I got that. The only people who can semi-cope with this topic are Eros and Cupid and maybe Jay and Infinitii and-- I don't know. But they're all on the wrong fucking topic because the very core of this problem is MISTRANSLATION and… shit.
…?
…We've gotta talk about this with the therapist.
Which part?
The part about… about Jay contributing to this? That's what it keeps pointing to.
What, Jay and Infinitii?
Almost. His splinters, maybe. Adakias? Is that the one?
Who's like Cupid? Maybe, I don't fucking know.
How is he like Cupid?
Well, how else would he fit into this damn topic?
No, I… he's different, I don't know. I can't get this data and my head is fuzzy and breaking and it feels awful and I'm going to scream if I'm not careful.
Then don't, kid, don't stick around if we're getting bad. I might just have to turn this into a data stream and type, running it through people sure as hell isn't working, we can't manage this topic as conversation.



The main concern with mistranslation currently, the roots we previously mentioned, are the religious/spiritual motivation behind sexuality/sensuality/ what have you.
Jay holds this the most, shockingly, because he has no inclination towards anything even vaguely sexual or sensual, at least not in his purest form. He does splinter somewhat, to sharper prismed forms, and his most common one is the one which he takes when he interacts with daemons. This is a common side of Jay-- the one that gets confused more than anyone else, arguably, but secondhandedly.
This splinter of Jay, which has no name of its own because it's so close to his true self, is terrifically "sensual" but not in a sensual way? Hence the mistranslation. "Sensuality" for us is cerise in color, all curves and velvet and low lights, warm and soft but deep and NO sharpness anywhere, which sexuality has. Sexuality is neon pink and orange and it's too sharp, like hot needles, and it hurts and it's tangled and fast like static in the head, all noise and confusion, and no one likes it because it turns your consciousness off and just gives you headaches and sickness.
Anyway. Jay's daemon-state disposition is not either of those things.

Let's categorize a little, for the sake of clarity.
Jay is into spiritual cardiophagy and melting/ shifting of form, all very "teeth sinking into cloud" feeling, very precise and intimate and deep but thick as far as sensation data goes? It's all sparkle-white in color, that or deep black, but still with iridescence in it. (The whole legit heart-connection core feeling has that sparkly rainbow color to it.) But it's the exact opposite of density; it's all so light and floaty and unbearably clear at times, like a spotlight shining through glass. Like a prism, fittingly.
Eros is a lighter Cerise than the one "sensuality" is defined as, something clearer like saturated glass. He's tied to close platonic intimacy, the kind that most people would never define as "platonic" solely because of how close it is, but there is NO romance or romantic overtones to his vibe. This seems ironic because Eros loves the aesthetic of "romantic" environments although he takes that motivation out of them entirely. He's similar to Jay in that he loves everything but Jay's love is more sparkly and crystalline, whereas Eros's is deeper and richer. It's very hard to put into words. Neither of them deal with sensual things in the way it is traditionally defined, though. No touching, no flirting, no romance. None at all.
Cupid is the darker richer cerise we described earlier, 100%. He resonates most strongly with Christmas lights and plush robes and blankets. He almost always only comes out in the winter. He's highly dangerous because he still uses sexuality BUT he's actually ignorant of what sex actually is, using it only as an "applied concept" that "matches what he feels," except it doesn't actually and that's slowly starting to sink in with him, again due to him being forced to be aware of his actions and mostly-programmed motivations.
Jacinth is tied to sexuality, not sensuality, because everything she feels hurts and she's almost always depersonalized to terrible extremes. She exists to sacrifice herself for the "ideal lie" that was sold to her, to sell herself to those she views as innocent and loving and pure enough to be sacrificed to, but she annihilates all self-awareness in the process and focuses only on those girls.
Azalea is pure sexuality in an introjected sense, the "girls act like this" terrifying shit that somehow got into our psyche, the homogenous teenage-girl aesthetic and behavior that we only ever associated with sexual abuse. She is that, more explicitly and horrifyingly than anyone else in the System.
Anna is adult female sexuality in the "passive" sense, which scares us to DEATH and we can't even think about her. She's the "receptive woman" stereotype but she's purely toxic and terrifying and Simeon is scared to death of her because she's just like the other one.
Sharona is adult female sexuality in the "dominant woman" stereotype which means that she will make you sleep with her because "she likes it" or some bullshit. She's the internalized toxic edge of the "a real woman is sexually independent and ferocious" crap we've heard in pieces but the problem is, inside she also holds the introjection of past teachings, which means she's focused on making our children allosexual because "that'll make you a REAL man/woman" or whatever the hell.
Jezebel torments us by spitting sexual innuendo and phrases and accusations all the time, but the more we talk to her the more we realize she doesn't give a shit about that stuff. The real Jezebel, the one rooted into Black, actually isn't sexual at all and just uses that crap to torture others.
Jessica is sexual in the way the family and public always wanted her to be, "enjoying" it however the hell she does, but one weird thing about her data is that she has no interest in other people. She's entirely autosexual. She's attracted to herself and honestly doesn't give a shit about anyone else. Which is disturbing and bizarre but true.
There's another "Jezebel" that's Brown and has the short spiky hair, and she's also autosexual but she's the one who is, for lack of a better term, a slut. She's hypersexual and disgustingly promiscuous and she treats our body like a toy. She's THE MOST DANGEROUS HACKER IN THE SYSTEM because she has no conscience and cannot be reasoned with.

Those are all the main people tied to this, for good and for ill.


As for all the other hackers, lost and otherwise… you know what, let me type about that too, because we never have and the therapist could use this data.
Going from the System List on this blog…

Bridget and Missy haven't been out for a very very long time, and are possibly dead. They only ever worked as accomplices to Julie when she was corrupted, essentially "holding her victims down" while she did whatever. The two never individually acted as hackers, only ever as a group.
"The stripper" rarely ever appears but she's an adult woman in the same vein as Anna and Sharona. Her color is Red and she has a very one-track mind, performing lascivious acts for an "audience," and surprisingly never really "into it" herself if that makes sense? I don't understand sexual motivations or thoughts, maybe she has those, but there's no emotional ties or actual feelings. She's just performing, for the sake of riling people up, and objectifying herself. She has no real sense of self either; as far as she's concerned she exists solely to dance on a pole as lewdly as possible until her job is done. Then she stops existing.
"The Lesbian" only ever came out on the porch in the past, during the summers, and she was an absolute introject of the "chubby Tumblr lesbian" aesthetic that we kept getting shoved down our throats in the name of "sexual freedom" or whatever the hell it was. (No offense to those people and their lives; we're just furious that we introjected it as "you were born with a female body and part of you was semi-attracted to women so you have no other choice but to be like THIS.") Anyway we think she only existed to try and "mimic" those people, so she had shallow roots and only ever came out in the wake of other hackers like Jessica and Jezebel.
Jasmine is HOPEFULLY DEAD because she was terrifying. She was an introject of the "pagan sexuality" thing we had shoved on us by both our mother and the internet, the whole idea of "born female = inherently sexual" fused with "nature is female and therefore inherently sexual" (again, no idea where this came from or how mangled it got), and that all mutated into a very ugly mindset of "nature itself requires that you offer yourself up to it sexually as a woman" and the real killer was that this was done with a SMILE. that was the curse of the spiritual aspect, the sick good-girl flat willingness to "do whatever God wanted" (which Christina personifies), which here basically turned into Jasmine existing to do nothing but sexualize both nature and herself. She was HORRIBLY DANGEROUS because she kept trying to convert people and I'm not sure but she MIGHT have actually hacked someone personally??? I don't know but either way she's gone, for now at least and hopefully forever. She only ever comes out in the summer so we'll need to put up heavy safeguards until then just in case.

The Tar and Plague don't actually ever hack people in and of themselves; they're raw congealed negative energy and it's only when they work through an alter or headvoice that problems and danger happen.
By itself, the Tar is just maniacal rage and destruction and screaming, and it will torment everyone just to torment them. It lives to destroy things wantonly, to attack physically and without conscience.
By itself, the Plague is calcified apathy and pride and hate, and it attacks people more through words and lies, through psychological manipulation. It will lead you to hell and then just strand you there.

Cleaver has nothing to do with sexuality. They rarely ever appear at all, but as far as we're aware they're the lingering split from Razor (her sister, technically) that still likes cutting meat in a very dangerous sense. They are the outlet for childlike single-minded sheer red violence. No mania, no fury, just a sort of slasher-smile obsession with sinking knife blades into people's backs.
The "child" is actually "the pedophile" but she's so disturbingly bizarre that we don't like talking about her. She is a personification of our own collective experience of being sexually objectified in our childhood, thank God never explicitly, but it was often and clear enough to leave scars. She's also badly lost because, being inherently tied to childhood, she holds SOME VERY IMPORTANT ROOTS of our being wrongfully taught that our desperate young needs for intimacy and closeness and affection were sexual, because we couldn't get any of those things in non-sexual contexts, which is heartbreaking and disgusting but it's what she holds, and it's why she can only comprehend sexuality in a childhood context. For her, adults are "scary and smelly and disgusting" and she appears incapable of even comprehending adults, let alone adulthood itself. For her, sexuality IS those childhood drives, except wrongfully applied to literal sex, and as a result she doesn't understand adult sexuality either. So although she does pursue sexuality in a way too young age group-- remember, for us, even teenage girls were viewed as abusers (thanks to Julie's original self) and so the only "safe" people were 13 or younger… the same age as we were when this happened. But the bottom line with this girl is that in the end she's only ever looking for fulfillment of a need so intense and unfulfilled, a need to just be close to another human being, to EXPRESS love and affection for once in our life, to feel wanted and loved… but in her experience, in our experience, the closest facsimile we got to any of that was through sexuality, through Julie, before we even hit high school. So it's a wreck. She's very very complicated but very very important because of all this shit tangled up in her existence.
The Androgyne is someone that only ever interacted with Laurie, and their role was similar to Jacinth's in that they existed for self-sacrifice, but they had a sense of self (which Jacinth does not) and THEIR motivation was a spiritual teaching that bored into our head-- essentially, "when you have sex with someone, your energies temporarily fuse. so don't have sex with anyone you don’t want to become." and this kid, who took the "androgyne" name and manifestation both because that was the "spiritual ideal" and they couldn't imagine being anything else, took that teaching to heart in reverse, and was born from the mindset of "I should only have sex with people I want to become." take this and apply it to a damaged, ruined, battered sense of self and suddenly it becomes obligatory, desperate: "I need to have sex with good people so that I become like them." there was no lust in it at all, just a sort of driving hopeless mission, a last-ditch effort to heal in a totally twisted way, through destruction of one's own self and the absorption of someone else's. literally, the androgyne's motivation was to stop existing and become someone else, someone GOOD. so at the most basic level, all they wanted was to die, for their ugly tortured past to die with them, and for someone they chose as utterly perfect to take over their life instead, therefore "redeeming them." it's impossible and a broken assumption, but this kid never considered that.
"The Scientist" is another deadly fronter who, admittedly, may be one of my splinters. I'm the one who types about sheer data, like this. I'm related to Sherlock but I'm faceless so I don't have that getting in the way of my impersonal deliverance of facts. The Scientist, on the other hand, is me broken into a "testing" phase, a mindset of "gathering every bit of data we can about this," which apparently results in hacks? I am not responsible for them and actually find it difficult to find data on it, possibly due to my ties to it, so this is preventing me getting infected. The bottom line is, The Scientist has no sense of right or wrong, only of observation and testing of hypotheses, and they have been responsible for several "flat hacks" solely for the sake of "figuring out what is actually happening here." Such 'testing' is unnecessary and cruel and even thinking about such behavior is making me nauseous, I'm sorry.
"Fogbank" is the infamous "flat fronter" who has a vibe and appearance shockingly similar to Ashen, which in a way is not surprising. She exists solely to depersonalize. She is ruled by a dense apathy forged through crushing depression and the inability to cope with reality, so she is incapable of actually feeling any emotion. She comes out whenever the situation gets too dire, and the brain needs to "shut down," or at least prevent anyone from fronting or talking that would "make the pain/ fear/ panic/ shame/ etc. worse." As the experiences that created her were exactly of that format, she automatically is summoned to prevent them from ever happening again. She has INCREDIBLY POWERFUL FRONTING RIGHTS and she is almost impossible to switch out-- the only way to bypass her is to completely check out of awareness, effectively doing a "soft reset" of consciousness by removing everyone from fronting and withdrawing all consciousness from the body. This allows us to re-enter awareness with enough forgetfulness of the previous situation and/or a stable enough fronter to prevent Fogbank from being triggered again immediately.
"Lace Braids" is another very rare fronter, who nevertheless was out enough times to merit mention. She was a passive abuse receiver, one who only ever appeared in "morning hacks," due to fitting the "innocent good girl" aesthetic that the early morning dizziness/ vulnerability matched well enough. Again, her existence is a huge red flag because she's about fourteen at most, wearing two brown braids and wearing a lacy one-piece summer dress, something like a long camisole. She is sexualized innocence as an alter, and the fact that she exists in a half-asleep state is EXTREMELY upsetting because she therefore exists just to take what's forced on her with a gauzy smile, running on programmed emotions, feeling the way she was told to feel and believing it entirely, because she doesn't have a sense of self to compare against it. She doesn't have the capacity to question her situation because she's not entirely conscious SO SHE CAN SURVIVE IT.
Moxie is a damaged child and she is NOT a hacker but a victim. Unlike David, Marigold, and Simeon, Moxie has actually felt abuse and, as usual (an awful phrase), it's been at the hands of adult female hackers, who manipulated her into thinking that "this is what mommy does when she loves you" and where the HELL did we introject that from,
the bottom line is, she's like ten or eleven, we see this same forced childhood sexuality in the leagueworlds now because this damaged part of our psyche doesn't know how else to think and THAT is something we need to tell the therapist about, tomorrow.
Ashen is the last one. She's about 14, tops. She took all the Julie abuse, that we can tell. She was the first one to be explicitly ravaged in that sense and it shattered her absolutely, and deep down, that part of our psyche, that young part that became her broken heart, never ever healed.
She's convinced that's she's broken forever, totally and hopelessly and in such a way that she's worthless, and that agonizing despair paved the way for so much self abuse, especially the non-sexual self-loathing alters like the indigo Jessica and all the eating-disorder people and all that… it's a mess.
But Ashen took the worst of it, more than anyone. She suffered this before it made any sense, before we even attempted to cope, before we started to splinter and split and further introject abusers in desperate mangled attempts to survive. Ashen was the first, and she has more scars than anyone.



so tomorrow's topic is.
start healing the childhood-sexualization that we experienced and perpetuated through confusion and sadness and fear, and
figure out what the heck to do with this stuff cupid keeps perpetuating, which is an offshoot of the above topic, but applied to adulthood now that people like jay experience real dedicated love with SUCH passion behind it that everyone outside tells us it has to be sexual, or even worse that it MUST be sexual for RELIGIOUS reasons,
religion and sexuality are fused in our headspace, have we ever told her that before?
that’s one hell of an interesting but heartbreakingly frustrating topic, it's what jay is tied to intimately, it's something that's still dear to our hearts despite terrifying us and confusing us and we WANT to talk about it but there are no words for it and the words people are giving us are WRONG.

there's that statue of saint teresa though, the one right on our alternate blog, and it's EXACTLY what goes on in heart connections, jay says he knows exactly what that is like,
that's what this is about, that's what we need,
but it's metaphysical.

and all these poor children are just looking for something here on earth and they're not getting it but they're being lied to and they're so damn trusting they figure that's better than nothing I guess.


god this is awful.
but at least we made some progress in knowledge today.


now if you'll excuse us. we have to get up early tomorrow, and we're so tired from today that we're falling asleep standing up, so good night.


 

 

 

 

xxxxx

Nov. 23rd, 2014 11:54 pm
prismaticbleed: (shatter)

 

 

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.

 

 

prismaticbleed: (shatter)


I am devastatingly depressed.
I haven't updated in days (feels like weeks) because frankly I just don't care much about anything anymore. I'm too tired. I don't have the strength to get out of bed. The only time I feel anything close to alive anymore is when I run, and thanks to this surgery I can't even do that for more than 30 minutes without pain.

My memory is getting worse. It's making things tough. Today I forgot that fruit hurts, and I ate an entire apple. The wave of grinding pain and nausea was a total shock at first, as I had no idea why it was there. It took me a good five minutes to remember that "oh yeah, apples have been painful to eat for two years now."
I forgot the other brother, the older one. He moved out sometime, a long time ago. He used to live here and I don't remember what that was like, or who he was. It's unsettling in a vague way, but I'm too tired to care.

I hurt too much. I want to vomit until I'm empty. I'm tired of the stomach and chest and head pain. I woke up almost every hour last night, so nauseous I was shaking. I can't remember the last time I felt rested.
I had nightmares again, the bland ones that are defined by existential annulment. In it I was driving, I got lost, had to walk home without shoes or much clothing, and when I got there the family acted like I wasn't even there. That's common. I wonder about the driving; every time I'm in a car in dreams I get hopelessly lost or, if someone else is driving, we get in an awful accident. But driving dreams are rare, except I've had like seven in the past two weeks. I wonder.

Is this bad, to talk about the bad things?
It's just so hard to focus on the "good" because currently, my perspective is so warped, it considers everything "bad." It considers everything a punishment or a sin. It's f*cked up, if you'll please forgive my language. It's just the only thing that sounds ugly enough to match this situation.
The voices won't stop. I am so tired of them. I am so tired. I actually considered going on medication to get them to shut up, but I know what that did to us last time.
"Us." That damned, saving word.

My therapist has either gotten too soft, or I've gotten too smart (again). I have a bad history with therapists, because I used to read psychology books for fun as a teen, and learned how to pick my own brain better than they ever could. So I know exactly what buzzwords to say and avoid, I know what body language they look for, I know what symptoms to hide or emphasize, I know too much. I play them like a harp.
The problem is that therapists aren't supposed to "get involved" like Laurie. I cannot tell you how horrible it is to end up in a self-destructive loop during a therapy session, trying to claw myself out of it and only being unable to because that horrid woman is staring at me. Just like that man before her. Staring. That makes it so much worse it's disgusting, because that sustained blank eye contact puts the body into "social mode" while my brain is in "you're a disgusting whore who doesn't deserve to live" mode, so I end up catatonic and silent. Then the therapist says, "what are you thinking about?" And I don't say anything, because that's the right answer. But a more bitter part of me wants to scoff and spit and tell them "nothing, you idiot, that's the whole problem!!" Can't they pick up on clues? Can't they think outside of the DSM-V? Or are they just as tightly programmed to "follow the rules" as I had to be on the job? It makes me sick.

I want to talk to Laurie, but the solution already negates the problem. The problem is that I am too suicidally depressed to care about heartspace. Acknowledging her presence would already mean I was okay enough to not need to talk. So we go back and forth, between bloody blinded sparkle-eyes and bleached-out corneas. Extremes.
I talked about that in therapy last week, I remember. How black+white does not equal gray, to me, and never did. It's the most exasperating, frustrating thing in the world. I cannot escape from the extremist mindset as long as I am fighting it, because that fighting keeps me trapped in that mindset. See? Gray is its own thing, a neutral perspective that sees clearly. I wonder if Sherlock would swap. I'm tired. I really am tired.

I'm splintered enough to switch colors, I'm sure. I realized that the other day. I realized that the reason I keep name-slipping with myself is because I dissociate so totally, so easily, around others, that I think a third-person perspective of my own alleged form is normal. When it hit me that that boy was acting the way I knew I should be acting, or at least would be if I had written the script, just like Jewel's outspacer adventures in elementary school… I knew that we were different, somehow.
Did I ever mention that? We were so used to that depersonalization, for so long, that we didn't realize it wasn't "normal," for lack of a better term. Jewel knew who she was, she would write down what happened to the letter, with herself and others. But the person writing those things was not her. Same with me. I, the one "watching myself," am not that boy, that loving boy. Somehow. I'm not even sure if he's real, or if he's just a projected splinter yet, a conscious psyche-split, like Cannon and Eros before him.


(ended suddenly)

Profile

prismaticbleed: (Default)
prismaticbleed

June 2025

S M T W T F S
1234567
89101112 1314
15161718192021
22232425262728
2930     

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jul. 8th, 2025 05:07 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios