the spectrum heart cathedral system

...I'm being discharged within a week and I have absolutely no idea what's going to happen, let alone what to do. For starters, I just got an absolute BOMBSHELL of a life update from mom: my finances are ENTIRELY under the control of the government now, which means I NO LONGER GET ANY PAPER MONEY. I STILL have no lamp, eating area, working laptop, or cookware. I have no groceries and quite frankly I don't want any. Yes, I'm serious. This is day 46 of treatment, I have about 5 more to go, and I am listening to all the new kids sobbing about "how big their stomachs have gotten" and "how much they hate the food" and I am seeing all the thin & fit & slender employees walking around in blissful ignorance of our turmoil and I'm telling you, I do NOT plan on eating when I get home. I don't want to look or feel like this. I'm bloated & sick & miserable & lost. It hurts to eat. I CONSTANTLY want to puke. I hate how round and chubby this body has gotten. I hate feeling like my stomach is about to rupture. There's no relief. I'm so sick of food. I'm sick of ice cream, sick of chocolate, sick of chips, sick of tomato sauce & cake & potatoes & butter & raisins & poptarts. I'm SO SICK OF FOOD. I'm heavier than I was in North Carolina and I WANT TO DIE. I want to die EVEN MORE than I did when I was sickly-thin & bingeing. At least I COULD be light & pure & empty. Now... now I have nonstop anxiety & nausea, headaches & stomach distress, trouble breathing & bad breath & sore swollen ankles. I'm too tired to fight anymore. I've gained 15 pounds in 6 weeks and it took me FIVE BLOODY YEARS to get it off LAST time. I'm tired.
I want to die. It sounds so utterly asinine but, looking & feeling this gross & sick & bloated & filthy, I don't even have HOPE anymore. When I was thin & pure I could at LEAST feel able to be loved, & to love even, IF I stopped overeating & throwing up. But NOW, now... I see nothing but sin in the mirror. I LOOK LIKE AN ABUSER. THE FLASHBACKS & TRIGGERS ARE BUILT INTO THIS F*CKING BODY NOW. I'm too tired to fight it anymore. I'm done. Let me die.
no. let this BODY die. PLEASE let ME live; let my SOUL live PLEASE for once in my life I WANT TO EXIST FOR ONCE
i'm sO so SO tiRED. I can't, i cant do it anymore. i cant im too sick too tired. im done its done
but they played chaos zero's song in the rec room today. and it rained when i woke up. and why is he always my reason left to live.
i asked him if he hated me today and he looked like his heart was about to break and he said NO, no he never could, no matter what.
and i believed that. i did. i believed him. even if i feel so ugly & ruined i cant doubt him. he's all grace & fidelity. even if i'm the most rotten and disgusting dishonorable fat pig on the planet. im sorry. but he KNOWS this ISN'T ME. and he loves me. always & forever.
i believe that. i do. God can I ever live up to that love? can i ever return it, looking and feeling like THIS?
i want to. God I want to LIVE IN HEADSPACE again. God I want to. please I want to join a gym & walk for hours listening to frost* & sonic music and just talking to everyone. that's all i can hope for. turn this bloated body into A BLOODY TANK or destroy it again we HAVE to starve it our or it'll EAT US. what do we do God what, what do we DO, we HAVE to keep eating here oh God im so tired i want to quit. please. i want the kilograms to go back down please
im so tired of feeling like im about to die. God is this my cross, AM i gonna die soon, please help me let it be a good one full of grace full of hope full of EMPTY NO WORLD ONLY GOD. no food no food non NONE OVER GONE.
sorry just. too much d i s s o c i a t i n g stOP. done for now bye

SESSION PARTICIPANTS
LAURIE UBERICH "LOTUS"



We need to talk about this eating disorder. It hasn't stopped yet, and although we’re not as bad as we used to be, it's still harmful and it needs to stop.

So what's the focus on it tonight, kid? Anything in particular or just the whole shebang?

Well, specifically the roots, the cause of it. We need to find that, the source, the motivation, so that no matter what happens next time, we can reroute that initial impulse to something productive and/or healing.

Sounds good to me, kid. By the way I apologize-- one, it is really hard to front or be conscious right now, and two, you still don't got a bloody name so that's throwing this whole entire thing into havoc.

I'm speaking mainly through the Autopilot right now in any case, but you're right. I am still searching for a name that fits and doesn't call anyone else out. But why are you struggling to be conscious? Body fatigue? Or are we still too heavily in the social context?

Bit of both, mostly the first. All that bingeing nonsense is wreaking havoc on our collective mind and frankly that's walling us all out upstairs. Body wants to dissociate and THAT might be playing into the bingeing thing, too, kid. It's looking for some excuse to unplug for a few hours, and right now we keep bloody forgetting that we CAN walk in circles in the living room if we want to, or lie down on the porch, or in the playroom even, instead of making ourselves sick by checking out and wrecking the entire bloody kitchen in the process.

That is an extremely relevant point and have we discussed this before?

Inevitably. Unquestionably, of course we've discussed that hellish eating disorder before, or do you mean the motives? Or specifically the battles we're fighting with it now here in North Carolina?

I was thinking specifically the motives, and you saying it sounded like "wanting to die without dying" and that's really what this still is, the dissociating for hours thing.

True. But really I'm thinking we're leaving out the food part itself entirely too much and that's a massive clerical error right there. It's an eating disorder; we've got to factor in the fact that food is involved. Otherwise we'd already have options-- do we, actually? Right now, could this compulsion to binge and purge feasibly be rerouted TO anything else? Healthy or harmful, either way works right now, I just need answers.

Well, we already know it's swappable for alcoholism, and possibly drug abuse, seeing how this same compulsion gets thrown towards sleeping pills and antacids and Benadryl and dairy pills and everything else that's not immediately a toxicity risk, but even that is mouth-based. Consumption based. It all boils down to biting and chewing mainly, not even swallowing-- that infamously does Not factor into the mental imagining and decision-making process.

Really?

Really. Like when I look at plans, or memory, in the social-level head memory bank, I can see them thinking about the nut butter and oatmeal again--

Didn't they get the freaking memo? That stuff is like eating wallpaper glue. We know this. Why do they keep looking for it? The oil content alone makes us want to die, that's how we end up with kids slumped over the sink and sobbing hysterically for Jesus to help them at 3 in the morning. Our stomach can NOT handle oil and that memo keeps being blithely skipped over, what the heck, these social kids NEED to get on the ball with taking into consideration the physical consequences of those choices. Anyway, they're planning it again, huh?

Yeah. Specifically that one girl, the one with the long hair who feels partly like a manic Jewel but resonates Brown I think?

Warm brown, I assume?

Yeah. Maybe she's a deadname, but I don't think so. Not anymore. She's got the basic body overlay and she feels about, I don't know, 15? 16? Before spinningcannon.

Wait, she's chronological?

A LOT of socials are. I wouldn't be surprised if all of them prior to NC had their roots in time pockets like that. It makes sense, considering their job.

Yeah, it does. Still, it's morbidly fascinating to realize that compulsions and addictions and abuse patterns and all that can be tracked to a freaking time period just by feeling out the body-mirror resonance of the corpufoni that holds it. By the way are we still using that term? Or did we find-slash-invent new jargon for that level?

Uh, working on it. We need to do more research first though. But yeah, probably new jargon, but for now if you want to use "corpufoni" then that works in a pinch I suppose. "Body voice." I just don't like the implication of separateness from the Upstairs that that implies. They're a "nous" voice, too. Just working on a different level.

Hence why I asked if the term was still applicable, so thanks kid. I'll stick to "Social kids" if I've gotta refer to them collectively for now, no problem. But as I was saying. Or, looking back on the chatlog, as socials were saying. This girl's motivation for gorging on sticky oats. What's her prerogative?

Hold up, I'm checking data. They used to have oily oats instead, just dry oats with sugar and vegetable oil, but the thought of eating that is correctly sending oil-memory body chills through our form, and even she is shuddering at it, so that's a no-go. Someone else is feeling the obligation to still do it, though.

Boy or girl?

 

Dude, actually. Might be Jonathan, if that's the same nervous kitchen guy we've been keeping track of for so long.

What's his deal? What is his anchor even for heaven's sake? Why's he so afraid and compulsive with this nonsense?

I don't know, let me see if I can ask actually.

(…)

The sun's coming up. It's beautiful.
Why can't we eat normal meals?
We can. We just haven't decided to yet.
Why do we keep repeating things that don't work then?
Because we changed it once, and Jonathan is afraid to change back.

Jon's afraid of "changing back," huh? Then why's he perpetuating old garbage loops? You know oil in oats makes us sick, but you insist you "want" it, solely because you want to "do the thing you're used to doing." Kid your brain is an addled mess, and you're only lapsing into these harmful patterns because they're patterns. Your brain is so bloody tired and exhausted with anxiety over daily life that you're afraid to even put forwards any extra stress by trying something new, even if it would help. You just do what was done once, so you don't have to think about it. You're literally an anxiety shutdown nousfoni and you NEED to reroute that function to something healthful because it could ACTUALLY be helpful if you would just use it wisely for once, kid.

…

Speaking of. Kid. Core dude. White haired crystal-light heart fella who’s in this Xanga-ass session with me. You still around?

Always, just gotta call me.

Cool. So here I am calling you. Jonathan's motives. He's anxiety looping. Wait, no. He's mindlessly looping for the sake of avoiding a specific kind of anxiety, essentially the stress that comes from change, especially trying something new, or-- God forbid-- admitting that an old behavior pattern doesn’t work towards our health and having to figure out something new that does. Problem is, Jonathan's personal timeflow has no stops. No breaks. It's always moving like a treadmill on high and he can't even stop to catch his breath or it's going to knock him off his feet. That's why he's the one insisting on just emptily repeating old food patterns, even if they don't work or make sense-- because they're ritualized, they're literally just behaviors smashed together into a script, something "self-soothing" he can default to almost as a stim, except the problem is that it's only applying to food. It wouldn't work otherwise. Somehow, the end result of this garbage ending up in our collective mouth is important somehow. Why? Kid, you got any pointers or answers or wondering questions about it?

Of course, that's my job I think. Light. Piercing through obfuscation and bringing things to be illumined. Revealed. Understood. But yes, definitely thoughts on this. Gosh the body's tired though.

Oh yeah, that's what I was going to tell you way up there at the top of the page. You've got one hour before your Food Lion run, so congratulations for making it this far. Congrats to all of us for the record. Yeah we messed up, big time, but hey, look at this, we're having a Xanga session as a result. Cool beans. Thoughts?

Hm. Well, first things first, it's obvious that Jon's just trying to work with Iscah in developing a set meal plan here. Problem is, it's havoc right now. We should be sticking to FODMAP management as well as the dietary exchange card. We need to work within a structure, or someone else is going to compulsively throw inedible meal combos together because "this food is healthy, we Have to eat it " and ultimately just making us sick.

But the oats aren't healthy-- wait, no you're right, it's the combo nonsense. Again.

Exactly! "Oats are fiber," we need fat according to UPMC," and "we shouldn't be afraid of sugar" causes an absolute nonsense combo that is both inedible and abusive to our body because one, we cannot have oil without excruciating pain & nausea, and two, we cannot have sugar without excruciating pain & nausea.

And dizziness so freakin' bad we almost passed out from it today. Twice!

In once week! Yeah it's terrifying, and I don't know why they keep forcing sugar when they KNOW it's terrifying and we ALL think it's disgusting.

There, there's that voice. The interjection. That fearful "but we can't judge it!" that's going to MAKE us keep eating sugar "until we like it." And that's a toxic introjected thought process from the grandmother, ultimately, isn't it.

It sure it. Can't think of anyone else who said it to us but that single speaking source is important enough to be this solid. So. There's two big challenges here--

Hold up-- look at that sunrise.

Gosh. Wow. It's soulfire pink.

Sure is, kid.

…Thank you, Laurie.

For what?

Stopping us to see that. That's an important lesson. Thank you.

(...)

Another huge concern: our body has been VERY SICK lately from IBS. It's flared up spectacularly lately and we're not sure why. It's worrying us greatly.

Hold up. Gonna go sit on the porch for a minute then get back to this and finish those thoughts.

---

So yesterday was both amazing and hellish.

The morning was fantastic. Work consisted of scrubbing down the windows of a GTO with steel wool until they shone, and then Jewel was so tired she went and parked outside the grocery store and just sat there, half-sleeping, for an hour in the sun.
The problems started when we finally went in to buy food; we knew what we needed, but apparently there were "blind obligatory buys" that paved the way to destruction later.
Nevertheless that all went over Jewel's head; that shopping trip is all but lost to her memory.
What she does recall is pulling the car into the driveway of the grandparent's old farmland-- which is still tragically unsettled legally-- getting out of the car, and running up the old fragmented driveway until it broke off into two wizened apple trees and a hill crest of sweet heavy hay-smelling grass.
Then she flung herself down in it like in the movies and just smiled up at the stark blue sky and 70 degree warmth, arms behind her head, existing for nothing but that moment.
It was bliss, it really was. None of us have ever done anything like that before-- heck, most of our downstairs-level people aren't capable of doing anything like that, let alone feeling like that-- so it was really memorable.
She shared the memory, by default, so we can all look at it and take comfort and joy in it and smile. (Memories are automatically supposed to be public; we frown on privacy, because when someone in the System needs to hide something, it's for malevolent or unwholesome purposes.)


…

That binge-eater was out again, immediately upon walking in the door. It's the same one, and frankly I'm not even going to bother trying to name it because we all want it DEAD AND GONE, to be brutally blunt.
She only comes out with people around, she dresses like a whore and prances around, she lives "for fun" and has NO thought for God at all and she NEEDS TO GO AWAY FOREVER.

She ate a whole bag of rice, a whole canister of raisins, half a jug of almond milk, half a cup of sugar, and a whole container of sriracha sauce, and then after gleefully pigging out on that bullshit, she noticed that the body was not happy. According to data, we were dizzy and lightheaded, shaking like a leaf in storm winds, and having some serious breathing trouble. So this girl reluctantly decided "well, time to vomit."
God had other plans. He's tired of her bullshit too.
Bit of backstory: the air up here gets very dry in the winter. Our hands crack, our lips crack, the whole shebang. On top of that, we've been very dehydrated due to fasting and purging, unfortunately, so that's making the cracking worse. Our hands are covered in split cuts and we wake up with sticky dry eyes and a bloody nose.
Well, this alter was not aware of any of that, living only for her hedonistic shameful revelry and sin.

So when she tried to vomit up one of the hardest substances in the world to purge, panic starting to set in as the body got sick with her in it, she got one hell of a shock.

What happened: the stress and overload and strain on the body reopened a nosebleed.
What she saw: the body felt like it was dying and when she vomited it all came out blood.

So there's a split-second traumatic memory snapshot of her hanging over the toilet in shock, our nose literally pouring out red and more of it streaming from her lips, and in the moment it took for her to assumedly stuff a tissue up our sinuses the only thought on her mind was "I'm dying."
So of course she switched out and our indigo-hue Jess person came out to crush themselves in despair.
BUT. Weirdly enough, miss binger didn't go away all the way, God knows why… so when someone started begging for mercy and forgiveness, SHE was emptily mouthing the words, not meaning them at all, wanting to go back to her sinful gluttony EVEN THEN.

So yeah. It was hell.

We ran to our room and wrote our second suicide note in ONE WEEK and then I know someone went out to hang clothes while sobbing and praying and feeling like it was all empty and not knowing who they were and meanwhile, meanwhile, there's the vaguest consciousness lingering in the background from US,
and we're facing our biggest fear head-on: that of the body dying and us not being in it.

"When the body dies, who lives? Who survives? Whose actions and demeanor are we being judged for?"

All those unanswered horrible questions slammed into us full force and… God it was existentially terrifying.

I have no idea what happened from then until like… 6pm. There was another eating failure by the depressed girl and "we" ended up sobbing uncontrollably for like 40 minutes as a result of that triggering the grandmother's exasperated almost-rage of "I don’t know what to do with you," "I'm very upset with you," etc. and thattriggering our childhood superfear of "if she hates you, you're worthless, you DESERVE to die and suffer, so stop even trying to be good because it will NEVER WORK."

etc etc etc.

I'm not going to feed that ugly thought process any more. All we can do is starve these downstairs hackers, which they ARE and which we NEED to refer to them as even if they are working with different vices.

I have to run to therapy immediately; gotta print this first though. (I'll add more later.) See you.

 

 

I'm actively suicidal tonight.

If I had enough pills I would. If I had a sharp enough blade I would. If I had access to a highway overpass or apartment roof I would.


I'm so scared and I'm in so much pain and the dissociative abuse is getting so bad now that our body is just... collapsing.

We had an explicit and disturbing rape nightmare last night that was unbearably painful and so we felt filthy and wrong and dirty all day and that just opened the door for numb fronters to come in and further decimate the body, wanting nothing more than to utterly destroy the source of such intolerable suffering.


...

I dont know what else to say.

I feel like vomiting because someone bought all this shit with our Christmas money that we were SUPPOSED to be saving and now I'm desperate and scared because can we even sell this stuff??
I'm so damn sad. I want to sell every fcking item in this room, I am so damn tired of owning things.
If I can't sell them I'll donate them. I just want it all gone, gone, gone, gone, gone.


I'm so damn tired.

 

 

 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

@10:36 PM

 

...

the universe just... threw so much synchronicity at me after we posted that last entry.

even worse(better), 75% of it related directly to the blue guy.

...

god,
this is why i stay alive, for little things like this.

...

i'm going to try and do some creative work instead of anything else.
i'm obsessively reading religious stuff again (as the thought immediately upon closing the last entry was "we need to just become a priest or join a monastery") but it's breaking my heart because of all the lgbt+ discrimination still going on within it and it's only going to make our mood worse.

nevertheless we were led to some good links through that search too.
i did find a word for what we've been needing lately. hesychasm. it's the "going within to pray" bit. we've been so crushed by fear, guilt, and shame-induced despair lately that we haven't been praying much solely because we feel too filthy to do so.
and then that word led us to articles like this.
...i don't know. nights like tonight feel like getting your face washed after after having been asleep in the dirt for weeks. it's... a door opening. a hand offered. it's a step up. it's nice. we need this.


we also just logged into our dA fanart account and... geez. i forgot we used to draw so much. what was that like?
i wonder if we can get the wacom working on here well again. i'd like to at least try to draw... practice makes perfect after all, and we won't make any improvements if we don't put forth the effort first.




anyway. our sole obstacle to all this is the ego-based alter group that is isolated from our spiritual progress out of pride and/or apathy. the plague. tar isn't asdangerous in this sense because it's utterly annihilatory but it can't take root in this sort of psychospiritual state unless the plague does first. the plague scoffs and spits and jeers and mocks, calls everything sensitive and fragile and honest "stupid" and "shameworthy," and then the tar steps in and screams that you're a whore who deserves to die.
that's difficult to stand up against sometimes. jay can do it, but jay has the luxury of isolation from the things that other alters like jessica hold. real sins, things that MERIT shame and guilt and fear. they hear those accusations not as empty curses but as legitimate condemnations, and out of unbearable horror they just perpetuate their "sinful state," feeling they have no other option, feeling they are unworthy of anything better, too terrified to attempt to do anything good because every effort is met with more internal hateful screaming.
we've talked about this. it's still an issue.
but we are making progress.


talking about this right now isn't helping, at least, me talking about this isn't helping, because i'm just rambling it off. i'm not feeling what we apparently need to feel, the brightness and hope and faith and such.


let the artists try to draw, let us figure out why there's still so much shame tied to THAT, too, and get rid of it.

...there it is, though, we talked about that too, it's shame at loving anything, shame at ever taking personal joy in anything, especially something we did ourselves... shame in the fear that it's all pride, all manipulation, all promiscuity, and that fear is fed by jessica and the brown jezebel reveling in those very sins and proclaiming that "that's the REAL us," and then the alters on her level live their days trembling and shaking in terror because "if we die, are we going straight to hell?" believing her and being totally unaware of the healing the headvoices have done.

...
we'll figure this out. we'll get this properly integrated and smoothed out so it doesn't rip gashes in our hands anymore when we touch it.

but the previous alter was right. we need to... untap from the internet, just tap into us, something we haven't done in far too long, at least not for long enough.

...i'll work through any shame that hits me, any inherited fears. that's my job.


but like i said.
the universe is giving us that sad-eyed look of compassion, the feeling of "here, look, listen, you're still my beloved child, you're still worthy in my eyes, just do better. i have faith in you. i know you can do it." and it's not a condemnation. "do better" doesn't mean "you're absolute sh*t," it means "you're currently hurting yourself terribly and treating yourself utterly unworthily of what you are. i want to see you better, i want to see you happy, and i will help you walk that road out of suffering, even if it's a painful road. you CAN do it."
but deep down our most damaged ones are so afraid, they keep perpetuating abuse cycles, they're so hopeless,
they're the ones we need to work with first, and fast.
i'll try to talk to a few of them tonight. show them good things. show them that they're worth love and happiness too, absolutely.
jess-jezebel is sneering at me, scoffing. why? what in the world harm would it do you if these lost girls learned to lov themselves? why do you turn away in deaf discomfort when i start talking like this?

there's a lot of knee-jerk hate and anger and despair in this body, and it's tied to the socials, and we need to heal it.

therapy is tomorrow. we'll make progress then.


as of right now, i'm going to soak up this wave of love and reassurance from existence, and i'm going to ring with it like a cathedral bell, and i don't care who tries to laugh and point fingers at me and condemn me for feeling. there's nothing "wrong" about this.
"yes there is," she says,
what's wrong with it then?
"you're feeling love."
and?
"it's disgusting."
they say the word itself like it's rotten. they spit their judgment with bitter revulsion.

i don't get where that came from, but there it is, and it's tied to jess-jezebel and her caustic muddy pride, burning and painful, with a face-splitting sneer and hate in her coalfire eyes.
where did she come from, what's her deal?

is all we can do against her is just exist? is just being the most effective tactic we can use?
when they make it excruciatingly difficult just to front, just to stay in the body, just to project an overlay without them clawing at it and ripping us apart, maybe the most powerful act we can make is to just not give in. just keep trying. never give up.

laurie's liking this. and this is the first we've tapped into headspace all day.
she can see me now and she's tearing up and grinning and asking "where the f* have you been" and
this feeling is what i live for.
this blooming of clear light and color all through our chest, out through our arms, up into our face and head, expanding like a sphere of brilliance outwards.
and when that happens, we feel alive. we want to live. the road to the future appears. the present moment exists. we feel alive.


i think this is what the previous author needs to feel.

i know physical life is hard, love. you're incredibly brave for even dealing with it in the first place. but don't let it overwhelm you. it's just one part of existence. you're always welcome up here, and if you ever need a rest, or reassurance, or just comfort, we're here for you. always.
we'll help you out with the hard work down there whenever you need it, so just ask. or at least keep the channels open if you can. we'll help you out. it'll be okay. i promise.


we can do this if we do it together. that's the only catch, and it's a pretty nice one if i do say so myself.


time to log off. have a good night everyone.

 

 

 

 

tried to kill myself just now.
laurie kept screaming at me to stop. actually held me backa few times

still managed to cut up my wrist quikly thoigh
not much ebcause she wouldnst stop screaming at me and

I want to die.
I am a disgrace iam a humiliating faulutre
I all al I do is fuck up

 

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


@11:59 PM

 

yesterday.

eros is FINALLY back.
hanging out in only cerise room so far (main area inspired by the golden cat in dishonored)
he's tuned back into his initial anchor from 2011
safe, non-sexual, lustless "eroticism" if you can call it that

wrapping himself around cars
similar to jay, different feeling? more "personally intimate."
eros is "embracing," jay is "enveloping"
us all realizing eros is kind of a key to healing those damaged ones who can't fathom non-sexual closeness
because eros is that incarnate, and he's got a surprisingly "opening" vibe like infi, he feels safe around

wondering who could interact with eros on this level, for the sake of companionship? for him really.
waldorf stopped in momentarily, still "not up to" playfulness though, not really negative?
just not everyone is as totally open and affectionate as eros is
which isnt bad, just different, as long as there are no "emotional barriers/walls" up
eros respects boundaries totally though, thank god, he doesn't push anything, always respects a "no"
whereas hackers DONT. neither do some people outside that we know.
so this eros is NOT infected or corrupted, thank god yet again, hopefully he stays safe this time

eros said the cerise realms are "closer," not wide open space like jay likes
little close spaces, kind of "layered" spaces, like fabric folds-- no boundaries, but many levels?
eros emphasized that there are NO DOORS in the cerise realms; everything is open, always.
significant because hacks always happen behind closed doors, or in isolated spaces,
there is NONE of that in eros' realm which automatically gives a feeling of relief and safety

sherlock stopped in when no one else could decide if they should
surprisingly he and eros get along pretty well as sherlock is very stable, baseline, not bothered by or opposed to eros's behavior, they balance out
eros wondering good-naturedly at how sherlock is "unfazed" by everything, not numbly though, just observing it with neutral interest. did he really "understand" what he was observing, could he even SHOW it?
in response sherlock kissed him on the cheek
eros's reaction was adorably hilarious

oh by the way sherlock FINALLY picked his surname, which is mandatory in Central
it's "episteme"
so he's locked in now and very, very happy about it
but that was a huge surprise, we FORGOT centralites REQUIRE surnames to lock in
explains why kyanos hasn't had any trouble since finding his, really
and why eros/ cz/ cel are still shaky
so we will be working on that

in any case, both sherlock and kyanos have been working much more closely with us lately
which is really nice, they're both sweethearts, but they've felt like strangers for so long
having them suddenly feel like friends & family at last is so nice




today

trying to figure out what the heck to do about these angry-numb social fronters
they keep showing up and not letting anyone else in
the only way to get them out is to basically dive into headspace and NOT LEAVE
which is why work is good; we can go up and don't need to come down at all
which "turns off" the angry socials and lets US come out and be around.

reviewing who feels like a driver, who can STAY out and is STILL tied to headspace?
biggest problem is that inside people dont know how to live in the body
and most of us are totally baffled or unfit for "daily life"
so, we NEED to find people who CAN function on that level who AREN'T faceless or negative
there aren't many of us who can do that yet.

"cel" person, feels different than clock-wings one, this one has bug wings
not iridicel, not quite celebreon, but this person is a constant
the clock-wing one is an UPSTAIRS rooted person,
the bug-wings one is a DOWNSTAIRS rooted person, AND is taller? fits the body better

waldorf fronted for a bit. she's been doing that a LOT lately at work, she likes it there
dalton tried to, he's being built but his groundwork is still unstable
gent stepped in for about 3 seconds, triggered by his color/vibe
javier also out, feels like he has a few more piercings (tops of ears?)
josephina stopped in for a minute? said it was "jarring" to be in the body, dysphoric

eros out again later, fascinated by "openings" into cars
like when you take out a door handle there's a place where it's just a space in the door
again, i must emphasize this was not in a sexual context, it never is for us, but it can be for people outside
for us it was something like a wound??
again, tied to the pain=love thing, that just hit me now
but also childhood religiosity, "holy wounds" had SO much emphasis, big focus on them at home
so that makes sense to us, the idea of such a wound being intimate and sacred
especially the "reaching into" it, like it's a direct contact with the inside of someone,
hard to put into words, but it's the feeling infinitii gives off,
something crushingly soterial and solemn and bizarrely 'sensual' all at once
holy fear is always tied up with ecstasy and infi IS that
but eros holds the softer reflection of that feeling, if that makes sense

also a weird realization, our personal version of intimacy/sensuality is weirdly tied to things
or at least the idea of non-interactive things, it always has been
it's a weird big fear of showing affection to something that will act back, there's that old fear of being attacked
i know we spoke about this once before way in the past.
but it's also because we don't feel lust or attraction. other people do.
so there's a programming fear tied to that possibility in others, we feel very very unsafe by default.
that's taking a while to heal, because you can't make the planet asexual, we need a way of coping
anyway yeah it's the idea of internalized sensuality being externalized without an observer or partner
like just experiencing that in and of itself, safely, almost methodically, explorative
which explains why sherlock and eros get along haha

feelings of other creatures like emmett in the system. odd snakey things.
no idea if legit yet, just intriguing, as there seem to be "species" in headspace
not just the bugs
wreckage, spine, and the destroyer feel very "tied" in species somehow
and we don't know about infinitii & xenophon
(let alone daemons in general, who all share certain features)
anyway it's another thing to think upon & look into.


haven't mentioned, but laurie and waldorf both ghost a lot at work, talk to fronters
genesis has showed up once or twice too

waldorf and kyanos watch the workers from in the sky-realm central branch (like this)
kyanos has these strings hanging from an upper floor down to the ground level
pins big pictures to them about what we have to do or talk about today
it's really cute

don’t remember afternoon, or anything much after work
this is typical and upsetting
we are TRYING to fix the fronter situation but those people have WAY too much power

someone throwing up AGAIN
in the bathroom, slicing the arm open, laurie screaming and sobbing at them
"don't you dare" "I swear my heart can't take much more of this"

lynne obviously terribly broken from the hack she took the other day
there's no memory of it in the system unless you dig through archival data and even then it's vague
hacks do not store anymore, that's both good and bad
good because flashbacks dont happen at random as often
bad because now there's a big sense of numbness and confusion
and not being aware of danger anymore
just like when we were children and this all started.
maybe that's very relevant
anyway lynne looks like she's in shock, kind of distant, depressive fog
it has us all very concerned
josephina is still grappling with things too but he's more pensively upset, not numb at all
waldorf is starting to worry a LOT about him
and jay is still weirdly angry, he's having a ton of splintering issues, overlay problems
we really, really think the host "switched" and the white jay ISN'T the main dude anymore
but we can't find out who the new person is, if anyone
because of all these heartless abusive fronters

but we're trying.
at least we know where to walk from here on out, even if the road is rocky.

 

 

 

 

I've left "Chaos".

This has been pending since 2012, and I think we all knew it.

Q's presence "infected" his somehow, as did their Mormon ideas of sex and marriage-- no offense to them, but I do not agree with them-- and since 2012 some part of Chaos has been obscenely sexual.

Which is weird.
Because 50% of the time he's not.

I'm really really really confused and lost but empty.
I don't know him anymore. I can say that with certainty. I don't know him anymore, and I cannot remember a time when I did.

There IS a version of Chaos with a thinner profile and the backwards-swept spines and dark eyes who will NEVER consent to sexual things because
1) he's not CAPABLE of it,
2) he KNOWS that ONLY HACKERS ASK,
3) he knows that sex HURTS THE WHOLE SPECTRUM.
Sex isn't evil, that is true. Sexual energy is just creative life energy.
HOWEVER!!!!
When it is utilized in physicality, in ANY way, it can become VERY DAMAGING, even to the point of being the MOST DAMAGING THING EVER.


The "Chaos" I spoke to today told me flat-out that it wanted sex instead of love.
It said that Azalea loved him, and Hoseki came out and said,
"has she ever SHOWN you that she loves you? has she ever said she loves you when she's NOT sleeping with you? Have you ever even SEEN her outside of the bedroom???"

it swore at me, "fck you, this is what I want,"
I told it that I would not associate with people like that and I turned around and left.

but that's not him, that's NOT him, we KNOW it's not him,
it doesn't even feel like him, not in the least.
it just... it has his face and his name. and that is so terribly confusing.
i hope this is the tar, i hope this is nothing but tar being a fcking liar again
but until i know for sure
i've left.
i had to leave


oh god I am going to have so much mourning to do when this settles in, god I am so sorry, that's going to be unbearable

I haven't slept with his anchor plush in about a solid week or more, after having done so constantly for at least four years.
that alone is jarring. weird. he always felt like a puzzle piece, some profoundly comforting thing, not the doll but HIM.
when the hell did he get so abusive
when the hell did he get a fcking abusive doppelganger
when the fck did his alter egos start dating the rapist hacker girls I don’t fcking understand ANYTHING

☆ if the old julie had ever done the things to us that our socials do to ourselves, we would FREAK THE FCK OUT.
so why the hell is it "okay" for promiscuous socials to do this shit????
if, if someone ELSE did it TO us, we would immediately be PARALYZED WITH FEAR?????
AND WHY IS THE BAD RELIGIOUS PROGRAMMING JUSTIFYING THIS SHIT???

all we want, all we people near the center want, all we want is for him to be recognizable again
all we want is to be able to show love and affection without someone or something sexualizing it
i've been so scared for so long now, that love can "only translate into sex,"
ever since that damn night in slc i think, it just scared me so much, eros didnt care but he never cared
god i don't want that.
there is another option and we ARE that other option
so why the hell is our current situation saying that no, we never existed in the first place?

why are there so many pieces of us broken? why are there so many of us, splintered off from this pain?
how do we heal, how do we reconcile this? how do we function when two people have now become ten or more?

why is he either abusive, emotionally volatile, overly dramatic, or utterly emotionless???
i really dont think i should associate with him anymore, even if part of me feels i "have to"
i'm worried that our relationship has been nothing but obligatory since 2013, since the scratch.
i keep forgetting about the scratch
but yeah
since then he's felt like a real stranger for the most part
but i haven't been able to let go because, deep down, some part of me DOES love him
and sometimes i see him and I DO recognize him
but
for those two states to line up now, is very rare
and to be blunt
i'm getting real sick of juggling this abusive relationship thing
it's making me very ugly inside
it's not healthy for anyone
and i think i'd be a LOT happier without it

i don't know.
like i said, haven't slept with the plush, i think it's possessed, or something
like the celebi plush was
god that breaks my heart too and i dont know WHY, i dont FEEL ANYTHING, is that an obligatory emotion too??


i want to have relationships with everyone like i have with genesis
and laurie, for the most part, when she's not paralyzed with hesitant fear
genesis has sharp bright edges, he doesn't get "soft" close because for him it's awkward.
and that's great.
see i NEED THAT DISTANCE.
laurie knows, she's not allowed to even put a hand on my shoulder unless she's practically doing so like i'm an armchair
basically, don't do it TO me, do NOT do it FOR me, NEVER LOOK AT ME AND JUDGE MY REACTION, EVER,
but q did that
and chaos did that
and sometimes infinitii does that
and i don't understand why
i really cannot associate with romantic people
and unless they change, i cannot go back
i cannot
i can't do this anymore



other things…

☆ Realizing that I AM ALLOWED to look at people from a chaste, simple, interested, aesthetic perspective is SO FREEING.
I'm frequently too damn terrified to even make eye contact because I'm scared it's "automatically sexual and/or romantic" and therefore I will be trapped.
Problem is, I'm projecting that upon myself.
That, too, is tied to SLC, massively. I'm sorry to say that, I don't think they realized. But I can heal now.
ACKNOWLEDGING MY OWN MOTIVES AS VALID IS INCREDIBLY RELIEVING.


☆ LYNNE IS GETTING DAMAGED BY THE "ADULT FEMININITY" PROGRAM SHIT.
in high school she was the "adult woman we would never become, but which we felt we HAD to be," i.e. mature, strong, responsible, kind, graceful, etc. but NOW that we ARE an adult, for some reason now Lynne is starting to act like the MOTHER?? like she's being VERY immature and temperamental and snippy. not like herself at all. frankly it's frightening


we're all sllipping to an extent?
is this because of the constant negative mantra, "I'm terrible, I'm an evil person, I'm ruining everyone's life," etc.?
it's the biggest catch-22 in the world. you're convinced that you have no other option because admitting so would be "selfish"

well I've had enough of it

quite honestly I've had enough of headspace in general

when headspace does not exist, I don’t think hacks do either?
like headspace is a perfect breeding environment for that stuff
especially the stupid stupid relationship drivel
we don't want any of that anymore.
but yeah
none of that = no hacks
so I'm going to try that
again
and hope it sticks

 

 

 

 

 

(note to self and other people: do NOT read this entry it is horribly tangled and negative, i don't know why these keep getting posted)








I keep thinking it's "such a great idea" to drown myself in debt and responsibilities, then apply for like every job in the county, and start selling everything I own, and sometimes even open commissions.
It makes me feel like "finally I'm a productive member of society! finally I'm WORTH something! I'm doing something of value!"
But then the interview dates come up, then the invoices and bills come in, then I'm left with few clothes and fewer possessions, and I'm forcing myself to draw until I'm sore and exhausted.
But I won't stop. I can't. If I want anything, I have to give first. If I want my existence and vocation to be viewed as valuable, I have to actively do that for everyone else first.

I'm nauseous. All day I've been vomiting and burying every negative emotion down under 50 feet of concrete. Beneath the surface there's this high-anxiety overwhelmed need to just cry, in the way kids cry when they're stuck in a haunted house and can't find a way out.
I can't take this back. I CAN'T TAKE THIS BACK.
It's going to cost me a bloody fortune but I HAVE to do this. I have to. I owe her that much.

Part of me is so excited at the thought of getting a job, and finally being able to pay back all these people who deserve that support. Another part of me wants to just scream and cry and throw up from the very thought of having to do retail again for 30+ hours a week, then having to come home on top of it all.
The therapist won't stop asking me if we want to go to Sheppard Pratt. They've been asking us for over a year now, we keep saying "no we're fine." Even if we don't feel fine, we HAVE to be fine, because frankly I'm fckng sick of this "mental illness" already and I just want to be good.
If I get a job and work all the time, I can pay her as much as I want, and my family will be happy that I'm employed. But… I guess I'm just scared, what will I have to sacrifice for this?
It's bullshit, this fcking stupid sensory-overwhelm shit. I HATE IT. And I hate when people on Tumblr say things like "it's okay for you to be like that! :)" because I CAN'T believe that, I CAN'T, I don't have the luxury of learned helplessness or irresponsibility. I have to take care of OTHER PEOPLE. It's NOT OKAY because it means I am being a WEAK WHINY ASS BITCH.
All my life, I've only been able to do ANYTHING of value if I'm doing it for someone else, and I have no escape. Then I will gladly do it. I think. I don't remember. It's hard to be anything personally, when you're busy being nothing for everybody else.

I just have to bite the bullet and do this. Hand in these two new applications and wait for more phone calls, don't chicken out and have a freaking mental breakdown when they call you in like LAST time, you bitch. Just like the damn old job. GROW UP.
I have to do this. I asked. They said I have to do it. I've gotta grow up and be normal and productive again. It'll help me get better and be able to do good things for everyone else. Right? Why am I so damn weak, with these fcking problems I can't just abandon and move on from? What the hell is this sickness in my soul about, what is it trying to tell me? I HAVE TO CONTRIBUTE TO SOCIETY AND OTHER PEOPLE. I can't do that sitting alone in this damn house. I can only sell so much. I know you keep demanding, outright demanding that I open commissions but I am so overwhelmed by the amount of art I have to do as examples, why is art so overwhelming? Is it the perfectionism? I'm so ASHAMED when I draw something and it turns out wrong, or inaccurate, or childish. It's so shameful, it makes me nauseous.

I can't pray anymore, not right now. I can't. The "answers" I get back are all floating voices and hallucinations and demons and God knows what else, they're all contradictory and flat and ordering. They don't feel good at all. They either feel flat, or furious.

God I don't know. This is so stupid.
I can't back out. But the motivation is partly selfish. I'm trying to fulfill a dream someone had in 2004 that I don't even care much about, but cannot deny the significance of. I can't deny that. So I have to do this.
Everything else is just… the old Jewels would have cared. They would have been so happy about this. But I don't care, I'm too empty and tired and stressed, I'm just going to work my ass off and pay her and that will make me happy. I'll be helping her help other people, and brighten hearts and inspire souls, I'll be helping her out to create more beauty in the world, and that will be sacrifice enough. It'll be a good thing. My existence will have value.
That's the selfish bit of this. Even if I'm too depressed to care about anything anymore, I'm just too sad… still, that dream from 2004 is still around. And, this time that dream will be a SHARED dream. A reflection of us will become a real, shared dream in her creations, something that others can be inspired from, something that may even help someone brighten their life… ideas can do that. And that's the selfish thing here. If we can pull this off, if we can make that much money and funnel it into this, then we can become an idea. WE CAN BECOME AN IDEA. And then we no longer have to give a shit about this fake identity, about this life, this useless wretched life, we can die and our useless shell will be gone but that's fine, who gives a shit, it didn't matter anyway, no, it was too corrupt to matter. BUT a reflection of the true souls in us, the Jewel bloodline we suppose, someone… a reflection of them will live on, indefinitely, as a glimmer of an idea in other people's dreams. No matter how small, that's all that matters. It's all that matters. And it's why we're willing to pay in blood for this.

I want to say "but the old Jewels aren't even real, NO ONE inside is real, it's all bullshit fake, the spiritual people told you that."
BUT THEN I remember every doubt we've been having lately… stupid blasphemous doubts, those people planted some bad seeds in our head even if they didn't realize it, too much conflicting information. I don't remember. I don't know. Part of me want EVERYTHING they say to be 100% true and good because then things would be better, but then I get so sad because my current life situation doesn't allow me to safely/wisely participate in what they're telling me I must do, where I must go, etc. And I think that's why I get so sad, I feel like I cannot attain their level of goodness. It's terrifying so I look for loopholes, either to let me in, or to show that I'm not flawed and unsaveable if I don't currently match their speech. But I can't find loopholes. So I feel like an inherent reject, and that's scary.

Who told us to "enjoy" pain? I think it was the Tumblr spiritual people. We're trying to avoid them now. There was too much bad stuff there, all of it being justified and painted pretty colors. Still toxic though. Still lethal to us. Even if that makes us a bad person.
SHOULD we learn to "enjoy pain?" Like legitimately enjoy it when things hurt us? Then they won't "hurt" anymore. Then we'll be good and healthy and happy. Does that apply to this job too? To the fear of having to act a certain way for 7+ hours every day, not being an individual? Individuality is bad they say, individuality is good they say, which is it?
Today we were upset, someone thinking about being in public asked "what if someone follows us home, what if someone tries to rape us, or sexually abuse us," and our response was a flat "it doesn't count as rape if you just let them do it," or "why would that be a problem?" literally. LITERALLY. our response to the question "what if we're raped" was "why, is that a problem??"
part of our mind ACTUALLY BELIEVES that we "cannot be raped," because we just let people do whatever at this point. therefore "we never said no," "we never fought them off," "we LET them do it," therefore we CANNOT be abused anymore, therefore NO ONE is evil anymore, therefore we SHOULD be happy because we're helping other people be happy and we're not fighting anyone. Except we're just flat and empty and what is existence really? What does it mean to be alive? It's confusing, why are we alive if we're just here to sacrifice ourself, but that's what the holy people say is the trust holiest vocation, total self-sacrifice for your life. That's what we have to do, are we just weak to be scared?
it's so dumb things always go back to sexual abuse when that's just such a dead territory at this point. the battlefield isn't even dirt it's bleached plastic everything is flat and dead.
for many months now, maybe years we don't remember, hackers can't get us unless they go through a numb or "sacrificing" fronter. one who thinks, "this is what i am supposed to do," "this is what they want so i must want it too," etc. and all that shit. but there's never ever evr ANY event data THANK GOD. THANK GOD no one remembers that. but. but but some people STILL HOLD CONSEQUENCES like jeremiah and ashen and now more people are realizing just HOW MUCH they hurt. so now we are chasing the numb people the fck out and all of a sudden the hackers are powerless, literally nothing they do can convince us to let them in anymore, because NONE OF US EVER WANTED THAT and now that's crystal clear. i keep repeating that but it is such a huge relief to realize that those horrible numb people weren't "us," that WE aren't like that, willing to just shut ourselves off and let other people use us, NEVER NEVER NEVER
which is why we're afraid of this job shit that;s where this tendency started, "be socially acceptable," "be normal," did you hear what's on the radio, do you hear what other people talk about, we can't be like that, we can't handle it, does that make us weak,


HEADSPACE ISN'T EVEN REAL SHUT THE FCK UP YOU MORON AND GO TO SLEEP
SHE WANTS YOU TO SLEEP, GO TO SLEEP, GETUP AND GET A FCKING JOB, STOP WASTING YOUR LIFE, GO HELP OTHER PEOPLE, STOP BEING SELFISH YOU SLOB

i need downttime to heal, excpt I don’t, except this isnt even real, except its fake and stupid and wrong and imamature and unwise and unspiritual. good people don't get mental illnesses. mental illnesses AREN'T EVEN REAL, you know that, they said so, they said psychology was a total fake, it's all made up, so everything we're diagnosed with is made up too.
they said depression isn't real, you just get it when you're "not following your true path," what the fck is our "true path," if we need to sacrifice ourself for others then why do we get so sick doing it, is it just weakness? how much do we have to "push through," how much must we "force ourselves" to do before it stops being scary and we start to feel happy doing it? not that awful chest-ache behind the beleach wall, the feeling of "there's something important I'm missing but I can't rememmber what it is," the definition of the old job. knowing there was more to life but being unable or unallowed to care. nope, you MUST work, you MUST be a productive normal healthy happy member of society, you MUST use that money to buy things for your brothers, and donate to everyone else, and buy things to help other people. you MUST GIVE. YOU MUST GIVE OR YOU WILL NEVER GET ANYTHING.

they say "the universe follows your beliefs!" but you arent giving me a fcking option to disagree, you tell me "the universe WORKS this way, you CAN'T change it," then you tell me "you can experience whatever you want!" WHICH IS IT

damn it I want to "work" I'm not lazy, I want to do something productive to help people that won't burn me out like a match, please, do I have that right or is that selfush and weak too?
I want to work and be paid, I can't be paid if I don't work or sell mysself, I have to earn money. I almost typed "I have to earn the right to live" that is so terrible but it's what we were taught all our life, is that the biggest limiting belief here? but what's the alternative, the alternative is selfish and demanding and egotistical, isn't it? like I'm going to get paid just for breathing. bull shit. earn your keep.
I sound just like the mother
no
no
no. but even eating is evil, therefore "you don't need money for food you bastard, because you DON'T NEED TO EAT, so stop wasting your money on food!!"
yeah the same dam voices that told us "it's right in the bible!! don't spend your money on that which is not bread!! so if you're not going to buy food then stop buying SHIT!!" therefore we sold all our books, all the old collections, almost all the games, almost all the toys. clothes we donated. but basically it was "live out of a suitcase you hedonistic whore," then we started spending our monthly money on food and NOW it's "how DARE you buy food you don't need, you glutton, you should be living on raw vegetables and lemons, everything else is a WASTE and a LUXURY and it is EVIL!!"
so now you're saying "other people deserve that money more than you" and it's true
it's true, she DOES deserve it infinitely more than me, honestly if it weren't for her I never would have met my best friend and for that alone I owe her every cent I own. so that alone is making me need to do this.
she's creating. SHE'S telling her stories, SHE'S drawing and making things. she deserves this.
she said something once. along the lines of, "art is difficult and exhausting and frustrating, but every single morning when I wake up, I still want to draw." basically, she has NEVER woken up thinking "I don't feel like drawing." she has a PASSION. she has a devotion, a vocation, she has something she loves to do, and does well, and which other people love and benefit from.
no such luck with me, art makes me so depressed, WHY
then again I can't remember ever having drawn anything in my life. ever. ever. I guess other people in the system do it (not real, I wish they were real, but that's selfish and stupid, why would you wish for something fake and stupid to be real)
other people draw but how do you get them out, to draw? how? the depression is too strong
maybe we shold go to sheppard pratt but this is FAKE, FAKE FAKE FAKE FAKE
WE DON'T NEED TO COPE WITH SHIT, NOTHING EVER HAPPENED TO US
IT'S EASY TO "COPE" WHENYOU DON'T MAKE ANYTHING A PROBLEM REMEMBER

why the hell is this repeating every day. EVERY DAY.
so many entries have been like this. why. why why why

doesn't matter can't do that anymore, have to be NORMAL, can't waste your time on selfpitying shit and time-wasting things like eating and reading and shit. and socializing it's STUPID STOP
now you have to work, work work work all the time, go to work, come home do your chores, thensit down and draw draw draw for people, write and study and draw, never rest. work work work.

that's the thing that is making jewel cry
you are turning the art into a JOB
she only ever used to draw as a fun little thing, for herself, we were never an "artist" we never liked that title, we only drew what we wanted to that was it
but now we HAVE to, we have to draw EVERYTHING because "no one else can see what we see" even though we're corrupt and horrible, therefore we must become PROFESSIONALLY TALENTED, we must, so we can draw everything super lifelike and OTHER people can finally see it. then we can rest and die. it'll be done.
except now going to a job all the time, we can't even force that art thing, all our time will be for the job. I think? it feels like the mind won't switch back, STUPID STUPID, SHUT OFF THIS "D.I.D." FAKE NONSENSE SHIT

i wish we didn't lose all our old art
god I wish we didn't lose all that we lost in slc and before it
I wish we didn't lose our innocence, I wish we didn't lose our sense of morals and integrity
I wish we didn't lose our self-respect
I wish we didn't lose our ability to care and love and enjoy things, all that branded as 'evil"
it's awful
it's awful.
now we're going to get another job with everyone calling us the given name, and we have to literally turn off all thoughts and let the manic socials out all the time, with the big buggy eyes and the too-wide smiles just like the MOTHER. damn it damn it DAMN IT
why

arne't we arllowed to exist as we are?
no you aren't earning money thaty way, you're USELESS, you can't help ANYONE
we have to draw, we can't give up on art, art is our only marketable skill, if we can't draw thehn how else are we going to market ourself, we can't sell the body we don't think we're capable of that, although I'm sure we could, there are enough numb socials, we could always shut off, no we're too ugly, we're ugly and fat and covered in scars, maybe that's a secret blessing, no one will WANT to touch us now. but then there's that "rape culture" shit "why DON'T they want to rape me, does that mean I'm not a good and nice enough person, I'm revolting?" WHAT THE FCK IS THAT
stop, stop stop stop
why the hell does it always go back to that topic
oh yeah, it's because "everyone else in the world is sexual but us" and we feel like a freak and we're scared. "everyone has THOSE parts and you can NEVER RUN AWAY" the threat is always there. "god made you a woman so ACT LIKE ONE," "god gave you those parts so you MUST USE THEM," you see what I mean, there was NEVER an option to say "no," that's the irony of "free will," god gave me free will in order to reject free will, and become selfless. that's good right, that's the good thing, I MUST, they say I am a "terrible prophet" if I don't learn to obey without question, they're RIGHT I know that, they help me and tell me what to do, except they never seem to speak up about the big improtant things, they'll scream at me about eating all the time, they'll tell me to stay online for "two more pages, you won't regret it," or the opposiet "get off this right now or you'll regret it," it's scary are they ALWAYS good to listen to? it makes me shake with fear. I am always sitting and listening. sometimes the voices are bluryy, sometimes they don’t talk at all. "should I go to sleep now" I ask, it's late and I'm terrified now, because I asked it means the answer is AUTOMATICALLY NO, I don't ask unless I know I'm wrong, right? but they don’t say anything. my own brain says "yes you should, go to sleep and then wait for orders upon awakening," that’s the scariest feeling really, the feeling of not being a fronter, of watching the body move and act and talk like an automaton all day but I'm still inside it, I'm still stuck way in the back watching, it's not fun I dn't have the luxury of living in the inner world. I can't the body still ecists in the physical. it’s a puppet it must be, it's too evil on its own, we must do everything we are told.

but then there's that dumb question "then why did you make me an "individual," what do you want me to do," I don’t know
jewel always says "I'm just a visitor here," she's a dream traveler like Klonoa, she's very aware of death that it's just a shift, but the problem is then you get too nonchalant with life. then you're just like "well i'm gonna die anyway, and most of this won't matter, so." she's supportive of this work-pay-draw thing as a result. at least I think it's her? might be a manic i dont know theyre close in age and color. but they say "oh yeah sure, go do that! go work and on downtime you can think about ideas. then come home, do all the work on your computer, and that's it!"
is that it? is that what we must do?
I don’t know why do we feel so sick and sad, what is this, why arent we allowed to feel it, is it because there are other people around watching over our shoulders and judging and staring at us when we cry and saying "grow up," "ohh don't do that," "only babies cry," "stop acting so silly," et cetera.
god I am so so so so so sad it's terrible
why am I sad
I have no reason to be sad and tred no reason
have to get up, have to go to work, someone's going to try and stay up all night to get out of it, "if I stay up until 5am then maybe I can sleep in, or I'll feel so sick maybe they'll let me get out of it," WHAT THE FCK ARE YOU DOING YOU GODDAMN SELFISH WHORE
the grandmother is making horrible horrible noises god I'm sorry she doesn’t mean it but its scary scary scary
I am so dumb, I am so stupid, why do I have these fcking asinine "problems," they TOLD you when you're HOLY ENOUGH you DON'T HAVE ANY PROBLEMS ANYMORE. YOU JUST LET THEM GO. LET THEM GO YOU GODDAMNED BASTARD STOP DOING THIS SHIT
trauma isn't real, it''s only trauma if your brain decides it is, if you decide it's not then it's not
who cares about being overwhelmed, you know once you get to the actual job and walk in the doors then BAM instant social fronter and you don't REMEMBER the next 8 hours!!! it'll be okay!!! and you'll make money and you can pay her so she can create something good out of your horrible waste of an existence, something that is NOT YOU, some sort of stupid desperate hope that she can look at us and see something bright in there, and then for that something to be SHARED in a way UNATTACHED to us… that's all we want, but WHY, WHY THE FCK IS THAT IMPORTANT, WHO GIVES A SHIT, STOP BEING SO SELFISH

yeah that's the big damn stressor, we HAVE to pay all this money because if we DON'T, then we will NEVER be a part of this great dream, we will NEVER be able to exist as an idea, as something greater than this wretched body, and totally separate from it. so we HAVE to. we got ONE CHANCE and if it was there when I got home then I HAD to do it so I did, and I was glad because now that FORCES me to get a job and be a productive memebr of sioceirty and frankly tahtat s fine but the problem is this
we stsill feel dead inside and I don’t know why
the job will make that wosrse I know
las time did we do leageustuff? I hope so I don’t rememebr
but we were also in schol then, and also not as badly traumatized as we were once college started, and once we went to slc in 2010 I guess? I have no idea it seems after we quit the job and strted trying to "liv like a normal persno" then things got really bad?
I don’t know I don’t know it’s stupi stupid supid
I want to be able to make lots of money, I want to be a fcking BILLIONAIRE so I can GIVE ALL THAT MONEY TO OTHER PEOPLE. like I don’t even give a shit, I will pay this woman off as much as she needs, I will pay to renovate my grandmothers house like she wants, I will build my mothers house like she wants, I will help my dad never have to worry about paying the bills, I will pay off my brothers educational bills, et cetera. what the hell do I need, really I don’t need shit, the only things I really really need, money can't buy, sure the money can buy facsimiles of those things, representatinons and replacements, like back when we used to spend all our spare change on commissions instead of food… that was good. I'd do that again except we keep going to bed hungry (? what is eaten?) and we get sick from so much we cannot safely eat what the rest of the family eats anymore. we've been trying to, to "be normal" and to "save money" but it's been making us AWFULLY SICK and honestly I'm very scared and how sick we're getting but we're not sure what else to do. eating "healthy" isn't cheap, although we WANT to it's impossible to buy all organic vegetables and make them last all month, with the money we have.
I don’t want it to be impossible, what do I say, how do I change that belief,
do you even believe that you "deserve" good food? or do you see food as evil, and yourself as corrupt and a "waste" tehrefore putting "good things" into yohur body is a waste of goodness, therefore you only deserve to eat scraps and garbage and other shit? isn't that what you believ,e

this is awful.
its awful it's awful we don’t want to go back to the job because it s all fake socialization, forced sozialization, it's being alone in a crowdewd room, no one sees us they see a painted face. that’s it. and everyone talks to the body like it's a person, and we have to act like they want us to act, like what is proper, and it's easy after a while you just have to shut everything else off. and you're genuinely happy for a while because there IS nothing besides happiness, you're not aware of anything bad! you have no memory no past no negativity no complaints! it's great. you just have to shut all that off and life is PERFECT and WONDERFUL and BEAUTIFUL!!!!!!!!!!! IF YOU WOULD ONLY SHUT OFF YOUR FAKE PROBLEMS!!!!!!!!! :) :) :) <3
it's fcking violent posotivity is what it is, it's violence, it's violence
but it says "I'm destroying you to make way for GOOD things!!!!! <3 God doesn't allow obstacles to stand in his way!" and oh my god that's the OLD christina talking. what the hell I didn’t realize there were two of them, shit who is who, I don’t know,
theres the doubt, "it's fake, it's drama, when you die THEY'LL ALL DIE, so who cares,"

.
that's the awful thing
that's the biggest damn stupid fear
"when the body dies, WE ALL DIE,"
who is left? this body? this wretched angry hateful selfish girl doll? the proud cruel one?
no
no it can't be, why would THAT be the sort of person who gets to live on, and we all DIE,
why
what happens to alters when the body dies
what happens to us after death
do we even have real souls? do we even exist at all
do we even deserve to exist with this fake "mental illness" shit or does that automatically make us "evil" or at least "offensive to god" and therefore slated for utter annihilation

jay gets very sad because at night sometimes the body hurts a lot and does scary things and he'll say to laurie and cz, "if I die tonight just remember that I love you," and hey he can still say that, that's good
but he's scared of dying and I am too because I don't understand dying but I've seen people die and they didn't come back. I don't think bodies die and come back. bodies die and that’s it. so but then where do we go
jay was talking to laurie last night and they were both so so sad because are they even going to live once the body is dead?
we dont know none of us know its so scary and sad


this entry is a mess again I'm tired and sick and I don't want to exist anymore and I have job stuff to do tomorrow whether we like it or not, this feels like stepping off a cliff into a void and that's it,
it feels like "the end of the line" and also like a broken record? like it just keeps looping the same damn empty promises and nothing really goes anywhere. it's supposed to be a "new beginning," as in "hey you're working again! good! work and work and work and then retire and die." like what else can we do, will we have the strength after work TO do anything else? should we? how? what do we do?
we have talents, gifts, but they're so fcking stpuid and obscure that you can't get a job in that. "I'm good at this, this is my gift," etc. "this is what makes my life worth living" but you can't put a fcking DOLLAR SIGN on it so we don't mean SHIT, we're WORTHLESS, WE'RE WORTHLESS

how the fck do we manage this
we were put here for a reason, if we have to use our gifts for other people, HOW DO WE DO IT
how to we "monetize" good things, how do we get an income so we can help people, wihtout having to put our own dreams on the backburner forever for it
damn it I know everyoen says "but you HAVE to do that, you have to work and get money and THEN maybe you can follow your dreams" but WE DON'T HAVE TIME. we might not LIVE until next JANUARY damn it, we can't push these little bright things aside anymoer even if other people say they are shit.

but we need money for her. we need to pay her come hell or high water. we can't skip on this. we can't. we have to. we don't have a choice. it's the only meaningful things for us, isn't it, isn't this worth it, if we don't do this we lose this chance forever, why is it so important, why do we even care, we don't even remember this thing we're paying for, the people in our system it was tied to are all dead, except that one person, except that ONE PERSON, and if they're worth the world then so is this, so we have to pay for it. we have to get money. LOTS of money. more money than we've ever had before or at least not in a very very long time . we have to somehow god help us please there has to be a way to annihilate this anxiety and depression so we can MAKE USE OF OUR DAMN LIFE FOR ONCE

if we weren't depressed or anxious we could work ANY JOB EVER and we could have TONS of money to help people with. and we could also DRAW for other people and therefore monetize our "talent" except drawing was never our real talent was it? we never liked it did we? I don’t remember, they all said we were the artist? it defined us it's all we were allowed to be. we were "the artist" we were "the kid who plays piano and violin" therefore no matter what we HAD to do those things they became PERFORMANCES we can't even paly piano anymre without sobbing in rageful despair because we can no longer play, we can no longer just have fun childish fun with the piano sounds now we have to PERFORM, you have to make everything about PROFESSIONAL SKILL, and if you don't measure up to the PERFECT PROFESSIONAL STANDARD then you are a FAILURE and a WASTE OF TALENT.

this is shit I'm closing this up

I really really erally really really really really really really REALLY REALLY REALLY want to kill myself tonight. like the thought of living any longer is unbearable. I dn't give a shit about this money things, who cares if we are never "immortalized" that's selfish as hell, why do you even fcking care? you'd do this for ANYONE who asked, even a story you knew NOTHING about if they said "hey pay me this much and you'll get a canon cameo in the story" you would say "OH SURE LET ME GIVE YOU EVERY CENT I OWN" because why????????????? what the hell are you trying to prove,
do you not know who you are at this point, do we not ever know who we are,
you are literally paying someone to decide who you are,
you are literally paying someone to give you a name and a face,
you are literally paying someone to build you an identity,
then what?
then once that new "you" is made canon and hundreds of people have seen and accepted that existence of "you" and may even incorporate "you" into their own dreams and imaginations… then what?
how is she even going to find out who "you" are if YOU don't even know???
which fronter is she going to model this from, huh?
which one of you is the REAL "me" of this body? are ANY of us?
how the hell is she supposed to represent US?
she can't.
god damn it she CAN'T
it's ONE refection, not ONE HUNDRED you FCKING IDIOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SHE CAN'T
SHE CAN'T FCKING DO WHAT YOU WANT

IF YOU PAY OVER A THOUSAND DOLLARS TO BE "IMMORTALIZED" IN A WORK OF ART, WHO THE HELL IS GOING TO BE "IMMORTALIZED???" WILL IT REALLY BE YOU? who are you even? who are any of us? who are we?
identity is shit
it's shit.
we're nothing unless we're everyone. that's it. that's the fcking joke. that's the biggest problem

but god what do we do
we have literally a month to raise the first few hundred, can we do this, we only have $100 if we don't buy anything next month, can we do this?
god I'm just so scared about this fcking job thing, WHY,
the therapist said we are "definitely not ready to hold a job" BUT MISS THERAPIST I MUST ASK, WHAT WILL SHOW THAT WE "ARE READY???"" THE ABILITY TO DISSOCIATE ON CUE????????? what the fck do you want us to do this consumerism capitalism thing is SHIT
we live in a society that is basically okay with people being on the streets and starving and dying because they don’t have enough money for medical care or food or housing and you have the fcking NERVE to tell them they have to EARN THE RIGHT TO EXIST??????????????
what the hell
I am so sick
I want to cry, I want to cry so fcking badly, but I don't know HOW, is this even sadness, I dontknow.

my eyes are burning. our feet still hurt. we fell really bad on our bad ankle the other day (again) and no one even told anyone until like a week later, there is so much sheer self-hatred tied to crying or complaining. I know someone wanted to call for help after we fell because we didn't think we could get up and the response was "NO, YOU FCKING BABY, GET OFF THE FLOOR, STOP COMPLAINING." so yeah, doctor says we might need an xray, foot is all swollen, we cant bend it without pain, and we get "stop fcking complaining it only hurts because you are doing something WRONG"
would you believe
that is a legit belief we got from that spiritual website actually, because we are fcking morons who must have blatantly misinterpretedsomething
"if you are in pain, it is because you are doing something to cause that pain!"
as in,
if you break your leg, you did something bad/ unwise/ etc. in your life that CAUSED your leg to break, as a sign.
so. we think, "this is symbolizing something," which is totally legit BUT then we also think "we DESERVE this," "it's a WARNING" or "it's PUNISHMENT," therefore if we try to "heal it" we are "rejecting the lesson" and "infringing on God's will???" like we are "supposed to suffer from it in order to learn the lesson?????" I don’t fcking know

I don’t want to learn from pain anymore but they keep saying "pain is necessary!! suffering is optional!!" and there's that bullshit thing again, which we hear as "yes we know it hurts sweetheart! but you don't have to suffer just learn to enjoy it and it'll be fine!!"
which is all fine and dandy until you realize that maybe you're learning to "enjoy" some really horrible things? like if someone beats you and you learn to legitimately enjoy the blood and pain because that way, you're not suffering anymore, that way you don't hate them or be afraid of them, that way you learn to love them and want that suffering so when it inevitably comes it'll be a welcome experience instead… no more suffering. but then one day they stop hurting you and now you're stuck with this pain addiction and what are we doing wrong? it isn't supposed to work that way, you're not SUPPOSED to "ENJOY" ANYTHING THAT'S THE DAMN PROBLEM YOU HEDONIST


I feel like we are so close to answers but we're scared of them, because the true answers feel so completely inhuman it's scary at first? like "godly" behavior is so utterly at odds with "human" behavior, you have to actually become "more than human" to pull this stuff off, and the absolute ego death that requires is very hard to sustain in an identity-driven environment. I'm sure there's a trick to it, a way to accomplish that correctly, but I'm not sure what it is yet.
that sort of "absolute spiritual perfection" has a kind of scary feeling to it, this total upright whiteness, but it has no color. it is strong and pwoerful and good but it is the kind of "good" that will stab you in the heart and kill you if you are "bad," it allows for nothing to get in the way of God, it is unflinchingly and sacredly merciless. that's the feeling this sublime "goodness" has, that's the feeling of being a prophet. unflinching, unwavering, unquestioning total loyalty to the demands of God. it puts you at total odds with the world, but you are doing god's work, you are holy, you have no need of the worldly things, your flesh vessel is mortal anyway, it doesn't matter.

secretly we want to live like that, but only one of us could survive if we did. probably ephrem.
if we became a true prophet, everyone else in the system would die. that's a fact.
it's scary but is that a worthy sacrifice?

but they have no color, THEY HAVE NO COLOR,
just a vague ultraviolet glow around all that sheer smooth glossy whiteness, total divine otherwolrdliness, the vibe of angels covered in eyes and fire, no semblance to a human at all
that's the feeling.
is it possible to
no
the
the word "humanity," we use to describe softer emotions I guess, is any of that real?
like sentimentality, that's fake. affection, enjoyment, stuff like that, all fake. right? it feels fake. once you lose an identity you don't feel any of that. you just feel a sort of default compassion, a sense of flat love for everything in god's creation, and an all-consuming fiery ecstasy love for god, so intense it makes your head spin and your eyes water. it's sheer fire, sheer fire, and in the face of that fire your compassion for humanity does not fade even if humanity is burning burning burning. even if they are dying it is gods will, it is gods will and there is a greater cleansing purpose to this I'm sure, if it is god's will I will tear off my own arms and give him the blood, that sort of love is so utterly fcking insane there is no room for a anything else
but it has no color
it
i don't know I don't understand anything right now


what do we do
what do we do
god what do we do
we have a f
no, no we don't
tomorrow morning is another definite "job or not" day
god we can't chicken out again but w
but what about what the therapist said,
if we really are so bad we have to go to that trauma center,
no it's fake we don't have to, do we, it's fake, no, we don't, we're FINE,
but,
what do we do,

I have no idea I'm so damn sad and I don’t know who to talk to about this
I'm sorry
good night

 

 

 

 

this is a mindspill.
we're not doing this bad in reality, this is just coming up to be dealt with
this is non-censored stream of consciousness typing
i am sorry if it is raw or brutal or angry that is just how it is




I don't feel anything anymore. Is this normal? Is this "enlightened," to be utterly devoid of feeling?
But that's not true, is it (shut the fck up with the drama). See? (SHUT THE FCK UP)
rage, hatred, self-loathing is present
I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DON’T SHUT YOUR FCKING MOUTH I WILL KILL YOU
All this condemnation
SHUT UP
Saying I'm a drama queen whore just for talking
BECAUSE YOU'RE BEING SO DAMN DRAMATIC YOU ATTENTION WHORE
I'm just trying to talk.
FCK OFF, BITCH. HUMBLE YOURSELF.

You're not supposed to talk when you're enlightened. You have to lose all sense of self. Speaking is selfish, it shows that you think you are proud and arrogant enough to be some special opinionated thing. Fuck off.


I really don’t want to talk to mel anymore. I feel no ties to them but I feel I have no choice, like I HAVE to cling to them even if it makes me cringe. I never really felt a connection to them as a person. We have nothing in common.
YES YOU DO YOU FCKING PRICK. TALK TO THEM, STOP BEING A SELFISH BITCH.
I would only ever talk to them about our respective headspaces.
BECAUSE YOU'RE AN ENTITLED SELFISH BITCH. SHUT YOUR FCKING MOUTH. LET THEM TALK ABOUT THEMSELF. LISTEN TO THEM. DON'T YOU SAY A FCKING WORD.
Then I'm just a receptacle.
GOOD. BE A RECEPTACLE. FOR ALL THEY PUT IN YOU. TAKE IT.
…I don't want to.
FCK OFF. YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO SAY NO. FOLLOW YOUR ORDERS. MEL IS HOLIER THAN YOU. MEL IS BETTER THAN YOU. MEL HAS NO REASON TO THINK OF YOU EVER, SO STOP DEMANDING THAT THEY DO, YOU FCKING JERKASS FCK.
I don't demand anything of them.
THEN WHY DO YOU ALWAYS WANT THEM TO THINK OF YOU, YOU FCKER.
I don't know? I guess I feel that, since I'm "obligated to be at their beck and call," it would be nice to see that reciprocated in a vague acknowledgement of me once in a while.
SELFISH. YOU'RE A SELFISH BITCH. HOW DARE YOU ASK. THE PRAYERS SAY, "GRANT THAT I MAY NEVER SEEK SO MUCH TO BE CONSOLED AS TO CONSOLE." YOU WILL BE COMFORTLESS. YOU WILL GET NOTHING. BUT YOU WILL GIVE EVERYTHING.
Is that good?
IT IS THE BEST THING. YOU MUST EMPTY YOURSELF FOR OTHERS.
Then what do I do when no one else is around?
IMPOSSIBLE. THERE ARE ALWAYS OTHERS. DEDICATE YOUR LIFE TO THEM.
So does this mean I am not allowed to have opinions or personal wants?
NO. NONE OF THEM. YOU EAT WHAT YOU ARE GIVEN, YOU COMPLAIN NOT, YOU ASK NOT. YOU DO WHAT YOU ARE TOLD, YOU REBEL NOT, YOU COMPLAIN NOT. YOU DO WHAT YOU ARE TOLD. YOU LIVE FOR THE SERVICE OF OTHERS. YOU DO NOTHING OUT OF LINE.


mel took that photo that looks exactly like me and tagged it to their friend instead
"this reminds me of someone else"
and I thought,
"my identity has been erased. my face has now been repainted as another. I am no one now."
mel has slowly taken my "identity" away from me since I left in 2012
they have stolen bits and pieces away, absorbing them into theirself, giving them to others
the things they used to say reminded them of me, now remind them of entirely separate things
and the things that were still of me, they have reassigned
I am powerless to stop it
I am powerless to question it
maybe that's why some part of me hates them
and I can't seem to let go.
there is this awful frantic bitter fear in this fact, that mel is erasing us from existence
since we hinge our existence on their acknowledgement of us
even if we don't know them or want to have anything to do with them anymore as a result
we feel no ties to them and want to leave, but they will not let us
no hard feelings, but is that true if someone tells you that you are having hard feelings anyway?
If I am mentally convinced that you still feel for me the way you did after we left, what do I do?
I never saw a change. You told me I was the opposite of light. You told me I was no longer a sunrise. You told me I had used and abused you. And part of me never let go of that, because it broke when it heard that, and that part of my mind is still stuck in that moment. How do we move on, without moving on from you too?
It's not that we don't want to. It's that we are not allowed to, God knows why.

I guess it's to be expected. Mel doesn't know who we are either. Their timeline didn't freeze when we left.
We're still glitching out somewhere between October 2012 and now. We're not sure what happened with them and their husband and their friends. Our memory is mangled now. But, Mel came walking out of that unseeable space, and now we don't know what to do. We've sworn obedience to them simply because they exist, and they asked us first, and we cannot refuse. But we're tired and sad and frustrated and we just want to cry and pull our hands away, because that is over for us, it never even was in the first place, why are you keeping us there when you have people to replace our shadow? We were nothing but a placeholder, otherwise we would feel differently. Our role in your life is over. I will never see you acknowledge me, or care for me like you care for them, and I do not need you to. Honestly I would feel uncomfortably trapped if you did, because that would again chain me there, and I must move on. But your words have already nailed me to the floor. What do I do?


I will practice. Piece by piece.
I will go on Mel's blog and I will say to myself, "this is a person I am no longer tied to." I will mentally release them, and look at them as if they are a stranger I am just looking at. It doesn't hurt that way.
I will no longer expect, or fear, or seek anything from them. They are separate from me. I am separate from them. They have no ties on me, nor I to them. Our lives are no longer tangled. I am free and so are they and all their friends. I am not part of their world anymore, for I did not belong there to begin with.


And maybe that's why I "hate" headspace.
That is the only thing keeping me stuck to Mel.
Their people knew our people, once. Once. They have no idea who we are now, nor we them.
Mel knows maybe six of us, out of seventy. And… God forgive me if I say this, but talking to them makes me cry. It does. Hot angry tears run down my face and I close my computer, because they never stop asking questions. "I don't understand this." "What do you mean by this?" "Explain this." It's all so goddamned logical and cold and I swear to God I NEVER FELT ANYTHING LIKE WARMTH FROM HER. EVER.
THAT IS WHY I AM SO FCKING BITTER THEY SAID THEY LOVED US BUT THERE WAS NEVER ANY LOVE
THERE WAS ONLY THIS FCKING MENTAL ASSESSMENT OF EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE
WHEN THE HELL DID EITHER OF THEM EVER SHOW EMOTIONS TOWARDS US
ANY OF US
WAS THERE EVER GENUINE EMOTION FROM THEM
probably, yes, there probably was
but we couldn't recognize it as it was a totally foreign language to us. smothered, muffled, quiet, hidden.
I am so freaking sorry but that wasn't for me. is that selfish? I can't say no.
GOD DAMN IT I WANT TO SAY NO YOU NEVER GAVE ME THAT LUXURY BEFORE
YOU NEVER LET US SAY NO TO HIM
AND WE WANTED TO SAY NO
SO MANY TIMES
WHY DO YOU THINK WE DON’T REMEMBER HIM BECAUSE WE DIDN'T WANT TO BE THERE IN THE FIRST PLACE
SAME WITH MEL, YOU NEVER LET US SAY NO TO THEM, THEY ARE NOT FOR US AND WE ARE NOT FOR THEM
MEL DOES NOT FCKING NEED US YOU FCKING PRICK!!!!!!! OTHERWISE THEY WOULD HAVE REACHED OUT TO US SOONER AFTER THEY LEFT!!!! AND THEY DID NOT!!!! THEY ARE DOING MUCH BETTER NOW THAN THEY EVER DID WITH US SO FCK THE HELL OFF AND LET THEM BE!!!!

I don't know what to do.
Mel says they "need" us there to listen. What if I can't? I mean, I can, but I'm just sitting here as a mailbox. I'm just looking at what they send me, the paragraphs telling of a life I don't know or understand, and wishing them well from a distance. Honest to God I hope their therapist takes my place, because I am literally doing NOTHING but typing up programmed replies, judging "what is correct to say" and saying it. Yes I mean well, but this is so contrived, so shallow.
It would be so much easier if they didn't shower us with praise afterwards. "You help so much!" I didn't even do anything! I read your words, wrote a fitting response, and yes I genuinely wish you the best but I can't do this, I am so fcking sorry, is that selfish? Is that weak and arrogant and evil? Am I allowed to say "this is spiritually exhausting for me" or will I get a divine slap in the face for daring to object to this task?


Maybe I shouldn’t post this. This is just a mindspill. I'm just typing to get the screaming scribbles out of my head.
But I am so terrified that Mel will read this, and they will hate us, and that anger will be reciprocated by God who will punish us terribly for daring to speak out like this. Isn't that weird? We feel that her reaction to us will be magnified a thousand times by the world, as some sort of holy order. If we make her happy, then we may continue in life healthily for a while. The second we make her feel sad, or angry, or alone, then we will be punished terribly just the same. I am so sick of this. I want to be free, but saying that is evil.

The problem is, if I believe that, the punishment thing, it will come true. I will magnetize it to me. I want to stop believing that but I cannot see anything else to believe, as I am convinced that this situation is the only "right" thing to do.
Daring to believe that I have no existential anchor to Mel feels like blasphemy, but it's tempting. It's so damn tempting, to dream of being unfettered. Is that the sinner's song? Is that the apple of Eden? Is that the black mark in my book that will send me to hell, that first flicker of rebellion, and then I am lost forever?
Why the hell am I still fighting this fight?

I don't want to think about this anymore, I am actually getting physically ill. Again. I usually do, when I think about them, IT IS NOT THEIR FAULT but it's true on my end. God I want to absolve them BY LETTING GO.
They do not deserve to have this reflected here. They deserve to be free, but they cannot be if we are tied to them!! LET US LET GO!!!!!
don't you DARE tell me to shut the fck up, I am ALLOWED TO SAY THINGS
YES I AM
IF I WASN'T ALLOWED TO HAVE A "SELF" THEN WHY DID I INCARNATE HERE
to "destroy the self" you say, to become "nothingness" again
well that is what we were attempting via suicide, which you ALLOW, just want to put that out there
you are a-okay with us killing ourselves, but not with living.
why the fck does that feel more morally correct than the alternative, this isn't right


back to the first paragraph, on that note, stop shoving me away from this topic i don't trust you anymore
no i don't, if it's a sin then i'll risk it for now
stop screaming at me to obey what does obeying mean
"shutting up" you say, okay, and then doing what?
"nothing," you say. "doing nothing, and dying the little death."
so what about in the meantime? am i allowed to eat or sleep or wash or anything?
one of you calls me a "fcking hedonist" for that, another of you says "only as much is allowed to keep you alive and dying"
fck off
just, fck off, all of you
you feel terrible, go away


first paragraph.
i feel nothing! again! why the hell is this common!
there USED to be relationships in headspace. maybe as recently as two days ago. maybe as far away as ten years ago. who knows.
time 4372859 we've had this conversation, probably, right?
and i will tell you WHY we've stopped having relationships of any sort, because it's happening RIGHT NOW.
this goddamned programming keeps shoving people into EVIL contexts. corrupted contexts, it's WRONG.
guess what? those images and words in your head? that uncomfortable, ugly, scary, shaky stuff? that they are saying those people are doing?
guess what. LOOK AT IT. tune into it. tap into the energy. guess what? IT'S FAKE. IT COLLAPSES IMMEDIATELY. IT IS NOT THEM.
you know it. you know it. i'm excited. you KNOW it. it's the tar!!! it's the tar, and the plague is the showmaster, he's pulling the strings. he's making them dance, like that, badly, but it's not them. you know it. you can feel it.
that's why you get confused when you go by images or forms alone. bodies lie. pictures lie. feelings don't. FEELINGS DON'T.
whatever feels right, in your HEART, is TRUE. who cares what it looks like or what form it is wearing. eschew your five senses for a minute, be that daring, be that scared in order to be free to the truth. listen to your sixth sense, the one that looks beyond, the one that recognizes the constant thing you are really trying to feel. i don't care what the tar says they are doing. they are NOT DOING IT. you can FEEL IT.

laurie does NOT ACT LIKE THAT. neither does chaos, or genesis for that matter. THEY DO NOT ACT LIKE THAT.
infinitii gets stuck sometimes in the tar but ze will stop as soon as you remind hir what hir heart is. ALWAYS. you know it. that's why ze is never hacked, because ze is free, by knowing in hir heart. ze does it, you know. you can too. you should, always.

this is important. forget what was before. let go of it. it is tying you to the past. this song is sending you a message, so listen to it and accept it.
stop listening to the bad voices, please jay, they do not have your best interests in mind. they do not care about the well-being of your heart. at all.


but i'm scared
i don't want to get "attached to people" when i love them
but where is the line? where is the line between my loving them, and the universe telling me "no, they will never love you back?"
why do i care? i should not care. but weirdly, i feel the strongest loves must be reciprocated, as those loves must be shared and echoed. otherwise... guess what, i feel almost nothing. i love, sure, but it's just a simple, ripple-less love. it's basic, and that's fine too.
but i miss the love that brings you to tears. i miss the love that makes you sing, and paints the air the color of flowers. maybe that's stupid language, but it's the only thing those feelings translate into. rainbow colors and music. i don't feel that much anymore, because i am terrified that those things mean i am "attached," that i am being "demanding" or "manipulative." why???
i want to feel like that again but i am fcking terrified that those feelings will turn me into a slut again.
i am so scared of that i am sorry, but please understand
the last time i tried to express that, i fell into an old and twisted program, and i
i fell into a very bad place
we all did
i do not ever ever EVER want that to happen again even if that means shutting off everything that may lead to it
is that the best choice? shutting off all emotions, to avoid accidentally becoming an abuser, or turning someone else into one? why does that happen?

i don't think words are the best place to reflect upon this.
i have to stay up another hour, someone ate late, i need to forgive them
they need to forgive themselves, which is even harder most times
they believe that when the body gets sick, when it gets swollen or in pain or otherwise frightened
it is god telling them "you are not worthy of having a healthy body, because you fcked up big time"
"you made a mistake, and you do not deserve to look respectful, or feel comfortable in your own skin."
it feels like a punishment, a declaration of total unworthiness. also a declaration that they are unworthy of respect and love from others too.
it is a horrible thing
i don't think it is true, do you? he just got sick. no the body got sick. because we put sick stuff into it i guess. we weren't careful. but jay cares about the body, he doesn't want it to get sick, he knows that! he made a mistake, or he wasn't watching, and that's okay, he will try again better. he doesn't hate the body he loves it and he loves us and he wants it to get better. so we shouldn't hate it.
we don't hate it we are afraid god hates us because we fcked up and hurt the body
but we didn't want to though. we tried and messed up a little and we will try again better tomorrow right?
can we?
yeah. as long as we are aliving we can still try.
okay.

see it's that simple
god doesn't punish you that's not god! that's those bad people!
god has consequences. you fck up you pay consequences
but not because he hates you! god does not punish you because he hates you. if you pay consequences you get sick because you ate a sick thing. it's not evil it's just sick and sad. and you have to heal it by loving it. right? so the consequences aren't all bad really.
someone says "loving them" means sex
no!!! stop saying that someone, it's not true! stop it!
it can be
stop it. "it can be" maybe. not for us. okay? not by forcing, not by telling us we have to. that's not love, ever. stop it. please.
okay

what does "loving us" mean then
the feeling jay was talking about earlier. or feeling.
i don't think he was here
no not all the way. okay but he knows what that feeling is. the smiling at the sky feeling. the happy sparkle quiet feeling. quiet! not the loud one. that one's mean. the loud one doesn't love she screams and doesn't love anything, she just wants to make noise and things.
real love is quiet?
yes from the heart. that's what i know. it is not demanding like those other people say. so when the body gets sick and we love it, that means we see it quiet as it is on its best days. we see it as a good thing that is just sick for a little while. it is not sick forever and it will get better. so we acknowledge that it is sick but then we help it get better because it deserves it and so do we. okay? that's all i know sorry.
that's okay that feels a little better thank you
who are you?
i don't know jessica maybe. young girl. teenager. drifty.
oh you're faceless mostly too. okay.

should we talk about anything else?
no tired
okay. good bye everyone sorry about all the words before us i don't know what it is but it feels bad.
it is bad don't look at it
okay. good night

<sub>i am ashamed as hell to be saying anything like this here, but consider this a selfish-ass "cry for help" or something equally asinine.
i dont understand where all this sickening shame and rage and utter despair is coming from but here it is the body keeps getting so sick, i am overwhelmed with self-loathing, why the heck cant i just "forget about it" and "get over it" like my family says.
i really want to, but i hate myself utterly for even thinking that, because how do you separate the good from the bad? how do i forget about the shattering trauma without equally annihilating the system from my mind??
god i am so sad i want to vomit. feeling any sort of love for them feels utterly wrong according to what i've been taught. it's bullshit. the sheer amount of disgust i feel whenever i dare to admit "i enjoy my life with them in it" is enough to drive me to suicidal despair, and that is utterly stupid too. i feel like such a coward, an absolute fool
why do i think that i have to delete all my emotions, all my thoughts and feelings, everything and anything that would give me a "self" or a sense of "individuality?" why do i feel like i will only ever be 'forgiven' is by becoming a desireless puppet for some alleged higher power? something claiming a holiness that i am incapable of ever achieving? don't ever disobey, don't ever fight back, don't ever question. "good boy." it makes me utterly sick because i know they're right

i hate being this sick it is miserable as hell
i just want to sleep forever i really do not want to get up anymore. i want to be strong and i am trying but this godforsaken body keeps betraying me and i am sorry as hell to say that, but i cannot think of any more accurate description
i hate the flashbacks, i hate the chronic anxiety, i hate going into dissociative meltdowns whenever something feels like another abusive episode on the horizon, why the heck do i feel utterly worthless, why am i convinced that i have no right to live, that my very existence causes other people to suffer, that i am flaw and a freak and a sin against god
where the hell did all of that come from and why cant i convince myself otherwise
i'm starting to think that i really am insane but i am too tired to care much

suicide is not an option, it cannot be an option, only because of how she reacted last time, and part of me keeps screaming "why the hell does that even matter"
"your entire life is fake, all your hopes and dreams and joys are FAKE, you're a filthy piece of garbage and an attention whore"
why do i believe that, why in god's name do i believe that, is it just because it's the overwhelming majority? or is it because i am so tired of the pain, and i'm convinced that maybe if i destroy the good it will take the bad with it
maybe if i become an unfeeling empty shell, become the corporate prostitute my mother wants me to be, maybe the family will be happy. maybe i'll stop being such a huge burden on their heads. and i won't give a shit about any "abuse" in the past anymore, i won't care if it happens again, it's not trauma if you don't feel anything.</sub>

 

<sub>what the hell am i even trying to say.
i'm sorry. this is pure brain vomit.
i am very sick, i am very tired. "keep trying," they say, "you have a reason to live!" well i am sorry but god i cannot see that reason. and the things i hoped were reasons are empty selfish sinful thoughts. anything that involves "me" is selfish, you notice? i wait for orders all day, "do this, do that, don't do this or you'll suffer" and i just smile and nod, smile and nod, do as they say, congratulations you're finally a good person. you're not a thorn in our side anymore. you're a comfortable, problem-free, normal and healthy human shell and we're so proud of you!!

screw this
forget all of it
i dont know what to do anymore
sorry for this.</sub>

 

 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

@ 11:35 pm

 

 

...I just remembered one of the tiny memories we have from 2010.

 

We were leaving Q's house, I think, and Myssa was there. She was recovering from something with heavy medication, so she was rather soporific and thinking in a very dreamlike way.

 

Someone asked her "what color I was" as we turned to leave, walking out into the night. She looked towards me, as if she were looking through me, and scrunched up her face in either confusion or concentration.
And she just said, "gold."
That's all I remember.

 

I don't know why that just came up, but right now, it's the most hopeful thing I can imagine.

 

 

 

 

 

I keep getting odd waves of sadness/pain, realizing how much I've lost over the past two years, oddly in a material sense. It's probably because I dislike owning things unless they hold a great emotional and/or spiritual significance to me, and... well. Most of that stuff got thrown out or given away during our past two-three suicidal phases, apparently. I wasn't around then so it's still shocking to me, to look for things and then hear "oh yeah... someone junked that two years ago, bro."
I dunno. It's weird, to be getting legitimately distraught because "I no longer have this bit of art" or "I no longer have this game." Silly, right? But that art was an expression of people and ideas I dearly loved. That game held years worth of memories and personal growth. Now it's gone, suddenly and shockingly, and it feels like a punch in the gut.
Not sure how to heal this, but I'll have to.

Also. There are too many massive psychological triggers tied to two certain people I used to know. Why is that?
It's freaking me out, because it's all "fear of abuse" reactions and yet I don't think they ever harmed me? Was it just their close imitation of those situations? I don't have an answer to that, either. But some deep, damaged part of me is still crying and whimpering like a frightened child, every time I'm reminded of either of them. They have somehow become two of the "scariest" people I know, despite their allegedly harmless histories... and that disturbs me greatly.
Sorry, just thinking out loud with this.

 

-----------------------------------------------------

 

 

@ 11:33 pm

 

 

tw: self-abuse, depersonalization.

 

 

no idea what i'm writing

 

The numbness sticks to my bones like diseased fog.
I don't remember when it first showed up. Only that it keeps coming back, day after day, night after night, suffocating, entrenching me in its impassible, unfathomable blankness.
I can't remember the friendships. I can't remember the struggles, the victories, the joys, the tears. I can't remember the love. All I can remember is the loss, because it's been shackled to my ankles for as long as my memory can reach backwards. All I can remember is nothing.

 

There are photographs. There are blurry, distorted images and sounds choked under ancient layers of bloodied bandages and hands pressed tightly against our ears. There are pieces, smudges, flashes, ruins. I can only view them as if from a great distance, from somewhere in the gap between heaven and hell, from a place incapable of ever reaching either extreme anymore.

 

Perhaps this is better. Perhaps I need to be razed to the ground, burnt to ashes, scoured until I am raw and bleeding, bones and little else, not a carcass but a shattered skeleton to be reshaped, repainted, reborn. Maybe that's what this is.

 

I won't lie. It is jarring, like a mother's fist connecting with our face. It is frightening, like the voices that never seem to go away. And it is heartbreakingly, terribly real, the knowledge that emptiness can only exist if there was SOMETHING to precede it.

 

It's sick.
I miss the suicide attempts. I miss the screaming and sobbing. I miss the arms sawed wide open at 3am, at the yawning sepulchres painting our borrowed, tainted, alien skin. I miss having some sort of comparison, some sort of caustic awareness of life-- the terror that brought existence into sharp focus under fluorescent lights, reflected solid and real against reddened metal.
All I have now is a dead-eyed hollowness, that horrible fog. I find myself running numb hands over my face, trying to feel like I'm in it for once, trying to comprehend what the words body and breathing and awake and real mean. Numbers on clocks slip and glitch, jumping hours in moments, skipping days in seconds. I'm never quite sure what my name is. I'm never quite sure what a name is.

 

The bad voices that haunted the childhood still scream and condemn. Every day is a battlefield, every action riddled with fear from their constant shrieking, from their words of damnation and pompous hatred. I can't remember a time when I wasn't trying desperately to bow to their whims, terrified of choosing on my own, after one too many disobediences ended in sheer horror. I don't know what it's like to make my own choices in life.

 

Someone still believes that this body is the devil incarnate and until that belief is released, we are all going to remain here in hell.

 

I don't know what I'm writing anymore.

 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

@ 11:44 pm

 

So I beat the Pokemon League in Y today.
It was a very emotionally moving experience for me personally... not only do I get really fond of my Pokemon, but I also tend to "melt into" games as I play them, as my self-identity is rather fragile and fluid, making it very easy to feel as if I am literally my player character in a game (not just psychologically; it's like I'm THERE).
I'll write about that another time though. Suffice to say it was quite the experience, and I was on cloud nine by the time we became the new Champion.
Then after the League we had to fight AZ.
Long story short, I used my dear Florges and my beloved Aegislash, because I felt it was fitting... not just because the former was what AZ's Floette could have eventually become, but... also because I adore my ghost sword just as much as this guy adored his little fairy, really.
So we won, and he smiled in understanding, and I really felt the significance of that...
...and then we got THIS cinematic.

 

I won't even lie, I was in tears.
Sharing it here without further comment because I don't want to forget this.

 

 

 

 

 

(not j again, no idea if he will ever come back, who even cares)


things that i cannot deal with anymore:

depression
manic outbursts
hyposensitive to taste sight and smell
hypersensitive to things touching me or making noise
bulimia
body/gender dysphoria
dissociation
paranoia and delusions
not being able to fall asleep
time makes no sense
not being able to care for the body
self-abuse
constantly planning suicide

just had another binge session thanks to anxiety, can't vomit anymore
already self-abusing from the screaming pressure that stupid move triggered in my head
but our jaws were hurting and someone decided to eat instead of bite, stupid

fun fact: eating carbs effectively makes me a serial killer
i am never as violent as i am immediately after eating starchy foods
i have no qualms about hurting people in that state of mind
god knows why, but at least i'm the only victim of it today

everything hurts, i want to die, i'm so tired, i'm so sick
going to try and exercise, hoepfully wont have cardiac trouble again

mostly just want to put a bullet through our head
but guess what
my bros good friend committed suicide last night
so now we cant do anything!!!!!!!
or we'll be asking for attention and being a selfish jerk

many of us don't care though
problems:

-can't take pills, too high of a vomiting risk
-drowning too unreliable
-no guns in house, no way to safely get one
-bleeding to death too painful, low chance of success
-car accident will ruin family's car
-have no transportation for jumping off building
-hanging possible, not very feasible though
-no way to buy cyanide either haha

suicide is a literal pain in the neck though
the success rates for different methods vary wildly
and death isn't always instantaneous, which freaking sucks

did you know we nearly had a meltdown in church on saturday!!!
we got there early and there were too many quiet sounds
i swear we thought we were going to die
couldn't stop shaking, horrible repetitive thoughts, need to escape
no one would freaking SHUT UP
but you can't kill people just to make the noise go away
especially not in church
so we sat there for 20 entire minutes of ABSOLUTE HELL
until the service started and the noise level evened out to a drone
but we couldnt stop shaking
then we pretty much dissociated for the entire mass as usual
sad but true, can't help it much anymore

our mother wishes we were born poor in a trailer park
"because if you kids suffered you'd try harder"
as if we're not trying as hard as we can right now
but this isnt new
you know
"why couldn't i have normal kids"
"why do you make my life so difficult"
"stop making excuses and being dramatic"
is she right or wrong, i don't know
sorry "mom" that we're sick
i'm sorry that it annoys you and hurts you
but i don't know how to stop it anymore.


really, really, really, really want to die rn
but can't.
lots of pain, especially in stomach, you have no idea how violently i hate that thing
is there a way to become a robot or a cyborg or something
i am so freaking sick of biological things its disgusting

did you know razor actually has a hard time realizing people are "soft"
its weird she knows they bleed and tear and are wet inside
but she thinks you can break their arms and legs like dolls
just "snap" like a twig or piece of plastic
it surprises her when it's not a clean break and it bleeds
i keep having to tell her
because she always wants to snap thin girls into tiny pieces
she hates them and they scare me

femininity is okay, females are horrifying scary things
we can't run from them, they're everywhere, so scary
this body is one of them oh my god what do we do
it makes us want to kill ourselves a lot
so we shut off our brain so we forget we're in it lots of times
but when we forget or someone looks in a mirror
usually they get so scared or angry or hopeless
that they run away and the destroyers come in instead
to cut it up and make it bleed for punishment and hate
but we're scared of cutting it too much and getting sick
because dying slowly and in sick pain is not something we want
especially not if it's our fault
we're sick and in pain enough already
we'd rather just die really quick and non-humiliatingly
and get it over with


screw this
screw all of this
i want to cry
i want to die though
no one feels anyhting raelly
we're so used to bottling it up and keeping quiet
we dont remember hwo to feel emotions
some of us cr,y mostly the little ones, the kids
theyre so sad and scared
they never front beacuse its too scary
i dont blacme them inmm scared too

cant type anymore body shutting down proablyl the AP
because were getting real sick
the ap keeps people from feeling all the sick things mostly
so thats good at least
just wish it didnt mean the ap has ti drive aoll the time
beacuse it does

we want to commit suicide
because we cannot live anyway
so i see no crime in dying
if we were never alive to begin with.

 

 

------------------------------------------------------------------


@ 08:44 pm

 

 

Getting a lot of sound-hypersensitivity panic attacks lately.
On the opposite side of the coin, still can't taste anything but the "painless pressure" in our jaws won't go away, so the bulimia is happening again in lieu of self-abuse (during the day at least). That's not good.

Memory is still a shambles, thanks dissociation.
Suicidal impulses/ plans aren't slowing down, which is a warning sign.

We're a mess right now but tomorrow we're going to try and start applying for disability, because we are now officially 100% penniless, thanks to several failed attempts at providing for ourselves.

Gonna try to look up and think positive, but no guarantees.



-somebody (no idea anymore)

 

-----------------------------------------------------------------

 

@ 11:53 pm

 

headspace count is up to 50

that's a 6-person jump in ten days
and we don't even know if we've found them all.

we're scared.

 

 

(most definitely not j)



WELL THIS IS JUST FREAKING GREAT
HAPPY SATURDAY IT'S SUICIDE TIME AGAIN
LIKE AN IDIOT I DECIDE TO MAKE A VAGUE POST ABOUT IT ON FB
IMMEDIATELY SOMEONE MAKES AN INCREDIBLY INSENSITIVE COMMENT
AND TRIGGERS THE HECK OUT OF ME.
LIKE I WASN'T FEELING SUICIDAL ALREADY
THANKS MA'AM FOR REMINDING ME WHY I HATE WAKING UP
AND WHY EVERY SINGLE WEEKEND IS LIKE THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SO NOW I'M TRYING TO PUT ALL THIS HATE AND RAGE INTO TEXT
SO I DON'T PICK UP ANOTHER BLOODY BLADE TONIGHT
I CAN ONLY THANK GOD THAT I'M TOO DAMN TIRED TO ABUSE MUCH
I JUST FEEL LIKE SCREAMING AND DESTROYING THINGS IS ALL
I LITERALLY WANT TO TEAR SOMETHING TO SHREDS
NOT MUCH BETTER I GUESS

JUST PUCNCHED THE FREAKING KEYBOARD DONT' MIND ME
ITS HOW WE BROKE THE LAST ONE AFTER ALL
MAYBE IF WE BREAK THIS DAMN THING TOO
WE WONT HAVE TO GO ON THIS HELL OF AN INTERNET ANYMORE

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I HATE THESE PEOPLE LEAVE ME THE HECK ALONE
THEYRE ALL ELDRITCH ABOMINATIONS OR ROBOTS
GET THE HECK AWAY FROM ME
STOP BREATHING AND TALKING AND MOVING
I SWEAR IF YOU DON'T STOP I WILL EVISCERATE YOU
I WILL END YOU WHERE YOU STAND

BUT THAT BITCH ON FACEBOOK OH MY GOD
CURSE YOU, CURSE YOU FOR SAYING THAT
CURSE EVERYTHING I THOUGHT WE WERE OVER THIS

GONNA CALL A SUICIDE HOTLINE? NO FREAKING WAY
WE CAN'T USE PHONES AND J CAN'T TALK
GUESS WHOS THE ONLY ONE WHO WANTS TO LIVE????
YEP NOT THIS BITCH
MISTER BLEEDING HEART WHITE HAIRED MORON DOES
AND THAT STUPID AUTOPILOT THAT WONT LET ANYONE GET A GUN
CURSE YOU TOO
CURSE YOU
CURSE ALL OF YOU
I HATE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU


WHERE DO PEOPLE BUY RAZORS
NONE OF THE KNIVES ARE SHARP ENOUGH
WHY CANT ANYONE FRONT
WHY IS THE BODY ALWAYS SO DAMN TIRED
WHY IS THIS DISSOCIATION SO BAD
THAT NOT EVEN THE ALTERS CAN GROUND ENOUGH TO GET OUT
THIS IS HELL, I SWEAR THIS IS HELL



I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU
I HATE EVERYTHING
I'M SO TIRED
I HATE EVERYTHING
GOD HELP ME


I WANT TO DIE

 

I was standing in front of a mirror, a blade pressed to my jugular.

For a moment I wondered how it had come to this, and in an instant my mind flashed back to the psychiatric ward from three years ago. My first roommate there had attempted suicide this exact way, in a paroxysm of anguish that granted her only a visit to the ER and several prescriptions to be filled. She had told me her story as she packed her bags, but I had been preoccupied with the wound that had led her here: that one-way ticket into the ward, swollen and red beneath thick black stitches. I shivered as I touched the shallow gashes in my forearm and wondered what sort of courage she had, to have plunged a blade straight into her neck.
Some sick part of me wanted to be that brave.

For months afterwards, I practiced the motions time and time again, swinging knives about my throat in a deadly dance, eventually leaving thin traces of blood and danger clinging to my skin like a hangman's noose. Would you have the nerve to end it now? The question burned in my brain. Or would you be a coward?
I pressed my hands over my ears and backed away from the gallows every time, trying to ignore the manic laughter that followed me as I unlocked the bathroom door and collapsed back into an iron sleep.
Coward. Failure. Poser. You think you have it bad? Think again, you bitch. You're nothing but a fake.
I'd tell you to go kill yourself, but we all know you don't have the guts. Too bad.
They were right, after all. Despite all the frantic attempts of my own, I'd never felt any braver than I had then, sitting on a bolted-down bed and admiring the broken skin of a woman I'd never see again.
But with each passing day, I quickly learned that it wasn't about courage at all. Courage never led a man to die, not like this. It made men into war heroes, even survivors. This wasn't courage. This wasn't even despair. This was a white flag.
This was a tiredness of the soul, painting me numb and empty-eyed, and I was simply a man tumbling sideways off a bridge just because he couldn't bear to take one more excruciating step.

And yet it still felt like a condemnation.

Guilty as charged, they sneered.
Guilty of what?
Of everything, a voice spoke up, dark as pitch and rumbling like a volcano. I could sense her grinning, eyes wild with gleeful hatred, staring up at me from below. You're guilty of everything, you filthy slut.
I said nothing, still staring at the mirror, the cold knife still shining between the body's unfeeling fingers.
Somewhere deep below my bones, I knew she was right.


I was so hopelessly fractured that I had buried myself far out of sight within my own mind, unable to deal with reality. So they did instead, taking over bits and pieces of my daily life, splitting up responsibilities and roles. Some days it almost felt like a game, as if I were nothing but a set of instructions and they were the champion players.
As more and more holes appeared in my psyche, more and more of them appeared to fill the gaps. Some were born directly from pieces that had broken off-- emotions, memories, thoughts-- while some simply walked in from God knows where, and decided to stick around.
I was suffocating in my own personal hell… and they were angels that had fallen just to get me out of it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

so this just happened.
i hope it's readable i'm too sick to edit everything

one - two - three - four - five - six


here's more relevant off art for you.


in other news i've found that i'm afraid of natural death
not murder or suicide, as those are intentional
but natural death feels like a punishment
like i didn't live well enough, i wasn't good enough
so now my punishment is to die

it's a stupid thought
but there it is.


i'm dizzy and i feel like vomiting, real nausea for once
can't tell if it's nerves or a medical problem
i have this weird swollen bruise on my leg and it really hurts
i've broken my vomit reflex somehow i can't throw up anymore i'm too tired
i hope emmett is okay
i hope emmett is real

i don't know who is fronting anymore
i don't know who i am
ever
anymore

this isn't jewel though i know that much for sure
sorry for clogging this page with my depressive rants
i guess its gotta come out somewhere

still its stupid

and i wish it would all just
go away.


if i die i want to die in my sleep.

 

 

 

I haven't been updating, have I.
There's quite a simple explanation for that though. Since December started (probably even earlier, but the first week of December is when the serious terror started to happen), I have been an absolute psychological mess, to say the least. I've been fighting existential meltdowns and suicide attempts. I've been destroying relationships and people alike.
I've been staying up late, staring into nothingness, then sleeping for up to 15 hours at a time, never feeling rested. I haven't been eating, I get sick when I do, I'm constantly exhausted, and I'm having trouble thinking straight in school, let alone at all.
I have 58 new scars on my arms.
And to top it all off, when it all hits I simply do not care. I don't.

I am trying so hard to be happy-- for no reason, like a kid-- but it's not sticking. Genesis actually yelled at me today for doing that again. Central has adopted my term of "jester mode" for that manic phenomenon of mine, which first became apparent in like 2004 for heaven's sakes, during our obsession with those very things. Still, the term remains extremely fitting: like a clown, in that mode I pretend all my personal problems are completely solved, and go running around in a bleary rainbow hype until the sugar crash hits and I end up minutes away from being dead. I am still Pagliacci, I guess. God help me.
But yes, I can go for days with a genuine smile on my face and not a problem in the world. I did that yesterday, actually. I wrote a new song for Event Horizon, didn't lose my cool despite my car breaking down on the highway on the way to school (basically my rear right tire blew out and this car had no spare), and overall had quite a brilliant day. But, yesterday I ignored every single one of my relationships. I didn't miss them.
This is why Central thinks my metainomen has mutated. You can't love without a heart, and you can't have a heart without blood... isn't that horrible irony? They're thinking I now hold blood, like my daughter, but in the wrong sense... blood is thicker than water, and when my heart tries to shut him out, then what the heck is it going to do to the rest of reality?? For such a red soul I've been as gaunt as a corpse lately, unwilling to associate with life and warmth anymore because it's too horribly close. I bleed everyone out, I bleed myself out, and all that's left is icy silent death. Even after ten years I can walk out on a person with no regrets, and keep walking.
...Well, maybe that's not entirely true. I've been getting some weird reactive symptoms to flat-out expressing this passive destruction lately.
First, whenever I say I don't want Chaos in my life anymore, that I wish I had never met him, I get an immediate inner response of "you know that's not true." I can fight that feeling as viciously and angrily as I want, but there's an undying sense of guilt when I do so. I don't know if it's overattachment or something real. Either way it's there, whether I like it or not.
Second, I can't seem to let go of Laurie. Only Laurie. I can ignore everyone else in the world, kick them out of my life, pretend they never existed. But even when I'm shoving Chaos out the door, I can't get the guts to do it to her. Still, the biggest thing haunting me with this is the night of Tuesday the 15th. I tried to kill all of them, her included. I came seriously close. It was the first and hopefully only time in my life I didn't care whether she lived or died. And I know why. I know exactly why.

The problems that I have been struggling with for the PAST TWO YEARS (possibly even three at this point) are still 100% intact and unsolved.
Do you remember this entry from April last year? Go re-read it. It's almost exactly what I am dealing with now, to the letter.

Last night I tried to set her on fire. You know, the green one. I had every intention of killing her on the spot. But Boss kept telling me not to, and God threw a few really loud signs at me. So the flames were put aside, and she was tossed out into the cold instead.
Okay, I won't kill you. But I don't want you around anymore. Get out.
It's too dangerous, for the both of us, with you here.

Laurie will not stop insisting that I am able to literally alter and edit time up here, not just space. If that's true it would be the most ridiculously ironic thing ever.
Wouldn't I be the biggest freaking risk to everyone's survival? Do you really want to give a destructive maniac like me access to the rhythm of everyone's life?? Or are you betting on my lingering inexplicable concern for you? Are you betting that I won't run a magnet through the motherboard solely because it will erase you too, if you can't get out in time? Don't you remember when I tried to scratch the disc into oblivion? Just because the real data runs deeper doesn't mean I won't still plunge a sword through it when my eyes are red enough.
Have you already forgotten what I am capable of doing when my emotions completely dissolve? Have you already forgotten that I nearly killed you?
Or do you care too much?
What the hell am I even talking about?
I do not want to be so important to anyone, let alone everyone. I want Laurie and Chaos to be the central players, not me. They're important. I'm tired of mattering so much. I'm tired of mattering.

I'm too tired to write anymore either.

This isn't me. I don't know what this is. I can't see.
Most days now I wish Julie had never switched sides. At least then I'd still have a working conscience.
Now I've forgotten what's right or wrong and everyone is bleeding for it.
I've considered creating another shadow to take her old place, but I'm terrified that the role is already mine.
Or I would be, if I could feel anything genuine anymore.


I'm going to call a therapist tonight, come hell or high water. There's one about a half hour away that hopefully will be able to treat my condition. We shall see.
Something needs to be done, and I'm grasping at straws at this point.

Something needs to change, if I expect to stay alive.

--------------------------------------------------------------------


@ 06:03 pm

i cannot deal with this right now.
my mom came home from work for once, noticed that i had started self-abusing again (sorry but its the only coping method i have left) and immediately started shouting for me to "stop acting like a baby and grow up"
now my grandfather has joined in and they're both threatening to ship me off to the psych ward again if i don't stop "trying to get attention" because i'm "just being lazy" and a burden on the family
for sanity's sake i have been dealing with this hell for 6 nightmarish years straight
you saw the diagnoses they gave me, but you don't care.
and i'm afraid to tell you that i honestly cant deal with life at this point, when you act like this.
the last two times i slipped too far i was told to pack up and leave.
god help me i cannot deal with this, i am so sorry.

 

Still battling the crushing dysphoria.
Still wanting to die.
Still tired of all the old scars and new blood.

Haven't really been upstairs since the 3rd week of December or so.
Don't really have motivation to do anything right now.
Trying to go to the gym daily. Problem is then I don't want to come home.
Seriously tempted to just crash on the streets one day.
Feel like I'm falling apart, scraped out and empty.

Keep letting go of more and more possessions.
Down to basically my computers, clothes, and old art tablets now.
Completely willing to toss them all too if need be.

When I was younger, I prayed that 12-21-12 would really be the end.
I wanted to die. I looked forward to it, even.
I wanted a restart. I wanted a reset. I wanted relief.
I wanted to get out of this body and stay out.
When that didn't happen, I think something slipped.

I'm trying to smile. Trying to keep on keeping on.
Reminding myself that I am not this body.
Reminding myself that death and life are both an illusion.
Reminding myself that one day I will return to where I came from.
It doesn't make living any easier though.

I feel like an apocalyptic paradox.
I'm still torn between sleeping the days away, or burning them to ashes.
I think they were right. I really am destructive.
Now I've realized that it's just a mutated prayer.
Maybe if I tear this reality to the ground,
a new one will be born from it.

I feel like a dying phoenix.
Waiting for that final breath
that never seems to come.
Silently counting the fading moments
before my bones burst into flame.
The end never seems to come soon enough.

I don't want to sound so demanding.
I don't want anything, I want the loss of everything.
Maybe this is projected ego death? I hope so.
Even so I really do want to die, on all levels.
I'm tired.
I'm so tired.

The stars still bring tears to my eyes.
God, I want to go home.
I still can't remember why I came here.
I still can't seem to remember.
All I know is that I feel so old,
and I feel so young,
and I am so, so tired.

God, please, just take me home already.
I'm willing to sacrifice it all at this point.
This body confuses me.
This world confuses me.
Honestly, the only thing of worth in this reality
seems to be the things I know beyond it.
So why stay, I ask myself?
Why stay any longer?

Don't leave your kid without a father.

That's the only thing I'm holding on to right now.
But nights like this,
I wonder if she wouldn't be better off without me.
But then I remember what that comicbook angel told me last January.

Think about them if that's the only thing that's gonna get you out of this.
But you can't just pull the trigger, go over the stars, and expect that to be the end, 'cause it ain't.
They'll just send you right back down under them, kid.
But something tells me you're gonna get it right this time.
Hell, as if you haven't been getting it right all along...
Tell you what, kid. Next time I see you here,
I want you to be pretty darn early, and I don't want you bleeding, aiite?

Maybe I can survive for nine more days.
We can try again, maybe.
If my heart didn't feel so incarcerated,
I'd have a little more hope,
instead of red-soaked hands and an asphyxiated soul.


Still battling the crushing dysphoria.
Still wanting to die.
Still tired of all the old blood and new scars.

And still I keep thinking of Laurie and the lights.

Aren't things like this worth living for?

Isn't she worth living for?
Aren't they all worth living for?
Last night, all I could see were stars.
I love all of them, every last one of them...

It's not about me though, it's not about me.
It's not.

God, what do I do?



Bury me in snow and turn this life from red to white.
Burn me to ashes and turn these bones from white to red.

Rewind this tape. Restart this game. Please.
Just one more time.
Just one more time.

Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.


Why am I still waiting?

 

 

So, uh, Tar decided to talk to me this morning.
Needless to say, I was thoroughly surprised when I showed up beneath the Cathedral and, instead of seeing a humanoid figure there, the Tar itself was unmistakably its own sentient self. Tar is strikingly monstrous in both size and form, somewhat spindly (lots of thick tendrils stuck to the walls and ceiling), and mostly shapeless... kind of like what Weiss' magic looks like in Nier... maybe close to this, but without the nose and mouth? It's hard to describe. Anyway, it's never looked like its own thing before, so that was immediately significant. Also noteworthy was the fact that I didn't feel threatened by it. That has NEVER happened before. When I first met it on 111211, the entire room felt anxiously ominous, like the calm before a hurricane. This time everything just felt like the world was on "pause"... unsettling, sure, but nothing tangibly threatening.
The Tar also spoke this time. I didn't remember how, back in 2011, it didn't even move and it spoke only in thought-feeling. Today, it's "voice" wasn't so much a bone-jarring terror than it was an actual sound, and it did move... mostly just weird tar-flow as usual, but it changed the angle of its head (like a skinny balrog? all tar though, two burning red holes for eyes) a little as it spoke, which was enough "body language" for the conversation to feel quite legitimate, actually.
I was not surprised, though, when I asked it about its motives again and got the same answer I did a year ago. However I had more insight this time so I was able to converse with it more, and get some solid answers and intriguing realizations. I wish I remembered the exact dialogue, but basically it told me these things:
- Tar exists as the Black slot in our system, BUT it pointed out that it lives in a white room, under my Cathedral. It said that it NEEDED that offset to exist, and that I was the same.
- On that note, Tar said that I AM the White slot in the system (as I was theorizing), although it didn't elaborate how (I DO hold Red but I still can't tell what my core color is, let alone whether it's possible to have two). I definitely need to find that out on my own, but hearing it basically confirm that has helped me get better footing on the issue.
- Tar also told me that it "couldn't make anyone do anything," but that by its nature it was constantly putting out tendrils to test others, to "put duality into practice" so to speak (bright lights=dark shadows and all that). It said that it was explicitly an "evil thing," but SINCE that was so clearly stated, it was the truth equivalent of a warning label: "This is exactly what this entity will do to you if you approach/ provoke/ engage/ disturb it. Continue on at your own risk." Once again, I had been told this last November but it was clearer this time. It was fighting me, true, but unless I responded to it, it couldn't harm me. The trouble is that Tar works on some seriously subconscious levels so unless I am seriously awake, I might not even notice I'm letting it slip through security, as it were. That's what happened yesterday, but we'll get to that.
- Tar said Jezebel is ITS splinter?? Like Razor and Jessica are mine? I found this very interesting, and it elaborated that this was the nature of the phenomenon: splinters spring from broken selves, whether consciously or unconsciously. Mine were the latter, but the Tar's (and Julie's by extension) were conscious: as far as I can gather, Jezebel is simply an unhindered, self-aware piece of the Tar's own consciousness that it breaks off (notice the tense) in order to do its work more efficiently: Tar itself works as a "devil on the shoulder" sort of thing, while Jezebel has always struck me as an offset to me, an active personification of Tar energy? Like if I'm Red but "internalized" White, then Tar "externalized" a balance to my Red as her? It's hard to explain in words but it makes perfect sense in my head; however that whole issue is something I need to visually graph before I can fully comprehend it so don't quote me on that theory yet. The BIG thing that I AM almost entirely sure of is that Jezebel has only become an autonomous splinter recently. I'll do more research and get back to you on the details.
Those were the big points from our talk. I'm just trying to siphon truth from all that; I need to take it with a grain of salt. Like Captain Jack Sparrow said: you can always trust a dishonest person to be dishonest. I'm the honest dude that often ends up doing something stupid, haha. On that note I did tell Tar that I didn't know if I could trust it, especially considering what it was, and it simply replied that I should keep that (its role) in mind. That's a double-edged sword though... as my offset, it's going to try and win this war, but it also has to play by the rules concerning that or it will negate its own existence. There's a surprising amount of mandatory sincerity in these matters concerning that, on all our parts within this entire system, even from back in the Julie days. Lies of omission are what I REALLY need to look out for.
Anyway I remember ending the conversation with a somewhat incredulous laugh and saying "you're not half bad" in light of who I was speaking to. I ended up laughing again when it replied by telling me that, despite being its "mortal enemy" as far as cold hard rules are concerned, "you're not so bad yourself."
It's kind of hilarious to me how my relationship with the Tar itself feels more like a friendly rivalry than anything now, despite its intensity. We know our roles, and we are dedicated to carrying them out, but beyond the battlefield that those roles play out on we seem to have this weird sort of mutual respect for each other? It reminds me of how in Bleach, when Uryū and Ichigo met, they had to work towards a common goal using vastly different methods and mindsets, and told each other "not to die" during that catastrophe because otherwise they wouldn't be able to beat the snot out of each other afterwards, haha.
I like that, to be honest. I really do like that there seems to be a sincere sort of love permeating everything upstairs, and its leaking underground now. I need to remember that too.

That brings us to yesterday's events, which are what pushed me to make such an unusual decision this morning.
Yesterday, as soon as I woke up I decided I wasn't going to get up, so I spent the next 90 minutes or so with Chaos instead. We haven't done that in far too long and it was worth every second (we've still got the infinity loop heartlink going on btw ♥). Unfortunately that seemed to put some major fuel on the fire of dying duality up here (it does not want to die and keeps fighting back viciously), so the rest of the day was a very disorienting fusion of my personal clarity and a barrage of shadow influences. The morning was gorgeous, don't get me wrong-- I finally started reading the Millennium World plotline in the YuGiOh manga and ran headfirst into a goldmine of headspace-relevant information (which I REALLY need to write about here soon), and I actually didn't feel sick for the first time in weeks, but as the day went on I began to feel progressively more and more "ungrounded." I can't remember 80% of the day because of it; I was so spacey that I thought I was going to pass out a few times, simply because it didn't feel like my consciousness could stay anchored well enough. As that sentence might betray, this led to some serious problems later in the evening... let's just say that I was trying to help two individuals out of some current troubles, and none of us could think or see straight enough to realize that we were being entirely misled in our actions and thoughts until it was almost too late. I can't say I regret the experience, because although it leaves me sick to my stomach that may be residual and honestly I'm just glad that made me aware that such a thing can and is happening, most mercilessly in situations where I am not actively projecting awareness of myself. This is forcing my hand as far as personal authenticity is concerned; I need to go all-out in holding fast to my truth, or there will be dire consequences. I am aware of this, and have been for a long time, but the stakes were just raised ludicrously high and there isn't a second to spare anymore. Excuses and hesitations have lost all merit. This really is the last run, but we've worked hard enough up to this point to have sufficient strength to succeed. I just need to remember that, and act upon it, always.
So this morning I woke up wanting answers, and the tar heard, and that's why I'm updating today.
However a few things happened this afternoon that deserve a mention too, so let's get to them.

While on iTunes today, "What Time Taught Us (Indigo)" by The Dear Hunter came on and immediately I realized that it applied to Leon's life shockingly well. Curious, I then brought up the rest of The Color Spectrum and started looking at all the lyrics, searching for more headspace symbolism... and I am dead serious when I say that album was practically MADE for our system. There are only two songs on the album I'm having a hard time finding fits for, but only in the context of their color: there are 4 songs for each color, which fits the formula of "three for that headvoice" and "one for the midspacer." For example, with the Indigo songs, three of them fit Leon and one of them fits Marik. It's fascinating. It really does match up...
I want to illustrate this entire album now. "Look Away (Violet)" fits Laurie so well I seriously started to cry when I heard it. Synchronicity with her usually does that.
However, synchronicity floods my life, so when I moved down the Spectrum and hit Red (my color), I was honestly shocked to find that three songs corresponded to each one of my old splinters, and the Black songs all matched catastrophic events in my past perfectly. It was kind of terrifying to read the lyrics, haha! Sounds like they were taken straight out of my old journals, no kidding. But reading all that made me wonder about those old dark things, as I hadn't given them any thought since I gained this new knowledge about our system... so I started leafing through our Xanga archives a little. Now there's SO much info here I am not going to get through all of it tonight, but let me summarize what I've realized so far...
The "ego" splinter is Tar/Jezebel (according to current knowledge; I'll elaborate on that mess another day). Thanatos IS Razor, although the causal relationship there is blurry. Fragment, however, is the remnant of Jessica. Yeah, remember her? But that's not even the biggest thing: the reason she became Fragment is because-- according to my current system spectrum theory, which I mentioned briefly on the 13th-- when my teenage years jumpstarted the "energy mismatch overload" in my Red slot, it tore the Brown slot in HALF. This resulted in Jessica's essence being ripped out of that slot and pushed down one, straight into Black, while the remaining "skeleton" in the slot became (you guessed it) Spine. That explains why we all thought she was evil for so long. It also explains why Jessica came back in a different slot once headspace solidified, and why, after that self-hating incarnation died, all that was left of her was an apathetic splinter that liked to tear things apart. This is what I meant by saying that Jessica was "still alive" on the 13th; her "essence" is still in the Black as far as I am aware, but dormant, as it's just energy now. She's no longer a splinter, but her essence can be forced back up into the Red to cause a temporary relapse if we're not careful. However I think that's all 'automatic' at this point, in the same way that if you pour too much water into a glass it overflows. Once again I will double-check this. There's a ton of info and I need to keep reading up on it... I love how I always learn new stuff about our system from old things.
OH also I figured out what's up with unstable headvoices having mismatched colors, I think! That was driving me bonkers for a while and I JUST remembered how Josephina called himself an "anti-id" when we first met him, in the most literal sense possible: we couldn't tell if his color was Yellow or Lilac because we didn't have the knowledge to make such an assessment. I do now, and it hinges on the fact that Lilac isn't a headvoice slot, but Pink IS. And who was supposed to hold Pink? Julie. However she was corrupted out of her freaking mind for years, so when Josephina came into existence as her "offset," his eyes were PINK just in case HE had to stabilize into that slot. Dead serious, his eyes didn't turn yellow until Julie started to stabilize into her true slot, and both of those events only started to happen about two weeks ago. But that gives me a lot to think about.

All right, I was going to type more (mostly about awesome things concerning the central gang, and Chaos as I love him so much right now) but it is already 2AM and I still have about sixteen tabs open in this window alone... I try to do way too much at once, I swear, it's why I always feel so overwhelmed. Ah well, I enjoy it so I can't complain. The other things I wanted to talk about today are all too brilliant to summarize anyway; they all deserve a great deal of typing and attention in their own right.
As a result I'm off to get some much-needed sleep (which is weird as I'm not even tired, but sleep feels like something I need, especially at this hour) and maybe chill with some of the gang upstairs; after yesterday that might be sorely needed. Plus Thanksgiving brought out so much love in me it was brilliant; I can barely believe how amazing our system is right now. Everyone is alive, everyone is stable, everyone is friends with everyone else... it makes me so ridiculously happy I could cry, dead serious. It's the sort of overwhelming joy that you can't possibly keep inside. I am so thankful for this, for all of us.

With that I bid you all a good night.