Friday, August 04, 2006
Is it normal to be so bitter?
Guess not.
So here I am, 4 in the morning, seized by a bitter hatred that refuses to let me sleep. My chest constricts with the sensation, and I can feel the bile boiling out of my throat.
Maybe the bitterness is just the taste of the bile rising up. Wouldn't put it past that.
If seeing friends and enemies die in your dreams is not the norm, then what is?
Oh yeah, hot women fucking each other.
I can't believe I just typed that.
I don't even know which is more disturbing. But out of the two, death and violence seems much less complicated.
But hey, its 4 in the morning. I'm allowed to be kooky at 4 in the morning. I think.
It seems to me that I'm splitting up inside. Fragments, you know?
On one level, a child, crying for help.
On another, a struggling teen.
Yet another, disgust overlaid with contempt.
And the last, the highest, the untouchable, sitting high and pretty on the dais, calmly watching the chaos boiling below its feet, not speaking, simply watching.
I can actually sense the shifts underneath the surface. As if with each person I meet, my personality shifts, and I'm someone else again.
Someone else. When can I be me? Instead of 'someone else'?
Is there a someone else? Or they could all be me, a part of me, yet apart from me. Heh.
The heart is confused, and the path lies in shadow. Damn right.
And they tell you anime is without merit. That line was paraphrased from Jubei-chan 2.
My heart feels simultaneously too small and too large to contain itself and the emotions within it. It hurts. I can no longer tell where I'm going.
Actually, I do know where I'm going. Remember the omniscent persona who just watches without comment. She knows. And what she knows, I know.
Fear is real. Pain is real. Retreating inside a shell.
I think I finally understand why I desire to see wounds on my flesh. It would mirror the scars on my soul and my mind. Are we not flesh and spirit both? Why is it when the spirit is wounded, irreparably or not, the flesh looks healthy? I repudiate it.
I think I see why people cut themselves. And I think the meaning underlying the story that I wrote a few days ago, titled Never Again.
It's a cry for help. CT said that I was in too deep to see how small the problem really was. She's not wrong, but she's not entirely right either.
It might be a small problem if you look at it from the outside. But when you're actually surrounded by it, absorbed into it, drowning in it as your vision narrows from being drawn deeper into the vortex, it becomes your whole world.
That's why I've always felt a certain rapport and understanding with people who hurt. I understand how the problem can enmesh you within the web, constricting you until you can't even draw a proper breath to scream. Your mouth hangs open, but no sound comes out. And the strands of the web cut deeper into you, but no marks can be seen on your skin. And no one knows.
No one can hear you scream. That's the basis behind the cutting, at least it is for me. You need visible proof. Subconciously, you want to be helped. So you call out in a way that seems abnormal to others.
Damn. Of all songs to come out now, it HAD to be Room of Angel. Yeah konks, it's one of the suicide-bait songs. I'm not quite that senseless yet.
Atalia said I had hope. Yeah. I haven't finished Broken Shards. Yeah, I finally saw the ending for Broken Shards. When I started out down that road, I never knew where it would lead, only that I must follow it.
And now I see the end in mind, and I can only laugh in all bitterness. How appropriate! And the words "Death is only a new beginning" suddenly make a whole lot more sense. I didn't even know why I put that on the blog in the first place, only that I should, or must. And now, the end answers everything.
In retrospect, I should have seen it coming. I wasn't planning on it, but the end happened anyway.
They say fiction mimics reality. Now let's just hope reality does NOT mimic fiction. Or that the reality pictured in the fiction doesn't come to life. Otherwise, well, it's not good. Definitely not.
It will remain secret. There are yet more stories to go before the end comes. And even after that, I'll need to edit all the entries. You know, spelling errors, typos, all that nitty gritty. And some entries could do with some rewriting in certain areas. You know, rephrasing, reshooting the scenes in the most ideal angle, that kind of thing. And after ALL that, I still need to arrange them in the proper order. I've just been writing the stories as they come, but to make maximum impact, I will arrange the stories as they SHOULD be read, and that has nothing to do with chronology within the stories themselves. Yes, there is a timeline.
Just like how The Usual Stakes has to be read before Doll.
I will need to rewrite some parts of Confessions, and totally overhaul Letters, probably change the title too.
Never Again will be the 3rd story from the back. The next two, the final episodes, so to speak, will be titled Endgame and Broken Shards, respectively. They are as yet unwritten, but I already have the scenes in mind and how to write them.
It seems strangely appropriate that, after all that running around, we're back where we started, and that's the part of the meaning behind the title. I started out using Broken Shards as the title of the blog, not planning to expand it into the anthology it is now. And now the last entry is also titled the same, and it is strangely fitting, considering the scene I planned in mind. Strange coincidences? I'm beginning to wonder if there are no coincidences anymore.
That I had known all along, deep down, where I was headed.
Before I leave, here's the planned ending of Broken Shards. Not much of a spoiler really. It's just one line. One very short line. One line that encapsulates the quote beneath the blog title.
He turned the page.
That's it. That's all the ending I need. 4 words.
And that is all I have to say.
]
Guess not.
So here I am, 4 in the morning, seized by a bitter hatred that refuses to let me sleep. My chest constricts with the sensation, and I can feel the bile boiling out of my throat.
Maybe the bitterness is just the taste of the bile rising up. Wouldn't put it past that.
If seeing friends and enemies die in your dreams is not the norm, then what is?
Oh yeah, hot women fucking each other.
I can't believe I just typed that.
I don't even know which is more disturbing. But out of the two, death and violence seems much less complicated.
But hey, its 4 in the morning. I'm allowed to be kooky at 4 in the morning. I think.
It seems to me that I'm splitting up inside. Fragments, you know?
On one level, a child, crying for help.
On another, a struggling teen.
Yet another, disgust overlaid with contempt.
And the last, the highest, the untouchable, sitting high and pretty on the dais, calmly watching the chaos boiling below its feet, not speaking, simply watching.
I can actually sense the shifts underneath the surface. As if with each person I meet, my personality shifts, and I'm someone else again.
Someone else. When can I be me? Instead of 'someone else'?
Is there a someone else? Or they could all be me, a part of me, yet apart from me. Heh.
The heart is confused, and the path lies in shadow. Damn right.
And they tell you anime is without merit. That line was paraphrased from Jubei-chan 2.
My heart feels simultaneously too small and too large to contain itself and the emotions within it. It hurts. I can no longer tell where I'm going.
Actually, I do know where I'm going. Remember the omniscent persona who just watches without comment. She knows. And what she knows, I know.
Fear is real. Pain is real. Retreating inside a shell.
I think I finally understand why I desire to see wounds on my flesh. It would mirror the scars on my soul and my mind. Are we not flesh and spirit both? Why is it when the spirit is wounded, irreparably or not, the flesh looks healthy? I repudiate it.
I think I see why people cut themselves. And I think the meaning underlying the story that I wrote a few days ago, titled Never Again.
It's a cry for help. CT said that I was in too deep to see how small the problem really was. She's not wrong, but she's not entirely right either.
It might be a small problem if you look at it from the outside. But when you're actually surrounded by it, absorbed into it, drowning in it as your vision narrows from being drawn deeper into the vortex, it becomes your whole world.
That's why I've always felt a certain rapport and understanding with people who hurt. I understand how the problem can enmesh you within the web, constricting you until you can't even draw a proper breath to scream. Your mouth hangs open, but no sound comes out. And the strands of the web cut deeper into you, but no marks can be seen on your skin. And no one knows.
No one can hear you scream. That's the basis behind the cutting, at least it is for me. You need visible proof. Subconciously, you want to be helped. So you call out in a way that seems abnormal to others.
Damn. Of all songs to come out now, it HAD to be Room of Angel. Yeah konks, it's one of the suicide-bait songs. I'm not quite that senseless yet.
Atalia said I had hope. Yeah. I haven't finished Broken Shards. Yeah, I finally saw the ending for Broken Shards. When I started out down that road, I never knew where it would lead, only that I must follow it.
And now I see the end in mind, and I can only laugh in all bitterness. How appropriate! And the words "Death is only a new beginning" suddenly make a whole lot more sense. I didn't even know why I put that on the blog in the first place, only that I should, or must. And now, the end answers everything.
In retrospect, I should have seen it coming. I wasn't planning on it, but the end happened anyway.
They say fiction mimics reality. Now let's just hope reality does NOT mimic fiction. Or that the reality pictured in the fiction doesn't come to life. Otherwise, well, it's not good. Definitely not.
It will remain secret. There are yet more stories to go before the end comes. And even after that, I'll need to edit all the entries. You know, spelling errors, typos, all that nitty gritty. And some entries could do with some rewriting in certain areas. You know, rephrasing, reshooting the scenes in the most ideal angle, that kind of thing. And after ALL that, I still need to arrange them in the proper order. I've just been writing the stories as they come, but to make maximum impact, I will arrange the stories as they SHOULD be read, and that has nothing to do with chronology within the stories themselves. Yes, there is a timeline.
Just like how The Usual Stakes has to be read before Doll.
I will need to rewrite some parts of Confessions, and totally overhaul Letters, probably change the title too.
Never Again will be the 3rd story from the back. The next two, the final episodes, so to speak, will be titled Endgame and Broken Shards, respectively. They are as yet unwritten, but I already have the scenes in mind and how to write them.
It seems strangely appropriate that, after all that running around, we're back where we started, and that's the part of the meaning behind the title. I started out using Broken Shards as the title of the blog, not planning to expand it into the anthology it is now. And now the last entry is also titled the same, and it is strangely fitting, considering the scene I planned in mind. Strange coincidences? I'm beginning to wonder if there are no coincidences anymore.
That I had known all along, deep down, where I was headed.
Before I leave, here's the planned ending of Broken Shards. Not much of a spoiler really. It's just one line. One very short line. One line that encapsulates the quote beneath the blog title.
He turned the page.
That's it. That's all the ending I need. 4 words.
And that is all I have to say.
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