What If.... Part IV

"We all have to take a look at our dark side sometimes Lex"
"The only problem is if you stare at it too long it gets hard to tell the difference."~ L.L.

Throughout the entirety of my existence the villains always resonated more with me; as well as the oh so lovely Anti-heroes. I should relate to the Pallladin mindset. Or at least that's what society teaches me. That "there's just good and evil. And if you aren't good we'll just hypocritically murder you" I truly believe that everyone has their dark sides. Yes, some are much worse than others. However the majority of the time it's dormant and kept in line purely for the sake of everyone else. Much like Lex Luthor, I can feel mine peeking it's head around the corner. So this causes me to question. What if I really let him out? What if I stopped fighting my destiny and just be absorbed by the monster that I live with?
I suppose it's time everyone Finally found out.
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There's plenty of abandoned factories scattered across 12th through 14th Street. I just so happen to be in one of those building. My room of choice was pitch black. The only light being the red glow of a furnace similar to a room one develops photos in. The whole building is brick. Attached to the wall past the furnace are chains mounted on the wall, Cask of Amontillado style. At the end of each of those chains lie a hand. These were workers hands. Rough and calloused. Hands unfit to ever care for a child properly as I learned from a young age. The left wrist has a deep scar on it from when a he got a metal plate inserted where bone used to be. The only sound is that of an old Victorian music box. The kind with a Ballerina spinning as it plays.
  "W-Where am I?" Stammers the disappointment of a wall ornament.
I can feel the excitement filling my veins now that it's consious. "Nowhere you need to know. You'll get used to it soon enough"
"What do you want with me, I'll give you whatever you want. Please, just let me go."
It's so cute when they try and beg for their life. He's even more of a pussy than I thought. I haven't even started playing yet.
"Your plea would be much more touching with a string quartet in the background. What I want is revenge. And I could simply just abandon you and leave you to die. But I'm not you, abandonment just leaves scars. That's not good enough."
"What the hell are you talking about?! I did the best I could for my son."
"You self-centered fuck, you actually believe that?" I walk closer to him revealing a powerful neodium magnet. Some of the strongest in the world. "You don't remember leaving him just to fuck some cunt with double D's? You don't remember scolding him in public and belittling a child for the way he walked. 'Get off your toes you goddamn ballerina. You should be wearing a dress if walk like that' You were a grown man yelling at your disabled son who could barely fucking walk at all!"
I'm in his face now. The chains are rattling due to the magnet. I move the magnet closer and closer to the metal plate in his arm. It was starting to move. His whimpers and pangs of pain were the perfect score to such a scene. The metallic plate broke through the surgical scars, taking a couple arteries with it. He's still alive, crying like a bitch.
He attempts to apologise, "I didn't know what I was saying or doing. I was just scared he'd turn out different"
"He got both of his legs split open to fix the way he walked. Despite how much you blamed him for it. Telling your son how it was his fault he walked the wrong way." He was bleeding out fast. Unfortunately my little game will have to end soon. I had a rusty nail that was picked up by the magnet. I jam it into his windpipe so now there's suffocation on top of blood loss. I gather up as much of my saliva as possible. Spitting right into the hole I made adding a third level of simulating drowning. "Isn't this just the perfect father son bonding time?"
He looks up at me crying even harder only now realizing that this is all is own doing with the monster he created. I never asked to be born. He attempts to hold my hand as one final act of love in his dying breath. I simply laugh and shatter every last digit with a brick.
"Don't wound what you can't kill, Dad."

That's only my father. Imagine what I'd be willing to do to anyone else who abandons me.
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Welcome to the thoughts of my Sociopath. I wonder what yours is like.

What If.... Part III.

  What if... for once in my life I was able to do the things I truly want? Like fall in love without going into a downward spiral of insanity and apathy. What if I could finally just die. Just get all of this over with so I no longer have to live with the fact that I'm not good enough for anyone. Near death experiences are the only thing that ever gets people running to your side and magically they all start to show that they give a shit. If they gave a fuck before hand this wouldn't even be an issue. I'm being vague so don't assume I'm talking to you; Because like everything, there's even exceptions to this too.
One specific instance of this was something that will always stick with me. This was around a month or so after I was left for dead by that Bewitched blonde adversary. There was a limited number of people I could even speak to at all. And one of them virtually stood by my side the whole time and still does. During my anguish, I began to have heart problems so I was basically convinced I was going to die. And on top of that I was in a suicidal mindset and so I was perfectly happy to just sit back and waste away without seeing a doctor. Upon sharing all this with the closest thing I have to my own Clark Kent. He got so... Passionate about it. He wasn't mad at me. He was mad with me. Almost seeming more upset than I was because seeing me in such pain drove him mad. 
Even before that I knew how caring he was but this specific instance where I truly needed someone he did the best he could for me. Oh, and the cherry on top. I was using Depeche Mode as the main distraction from everything. It was easily an obsession. And one day he gets back from a date and he tells me how he would've bought me a vinyl record of theirs if he could. Just the gesture alone. The fact that it was a random thought just gives it a lot of meaning on it's own. I will never forget that moment. Thank you, Aaron.

    Now that we've got the only person exempt from my malice out of the way, let's hit where it hurts. Well, hurts me anyways.      _________________________________________

Hi, Hatred here. I haven't been at the writing mantel for quite some time. For the last few days things have been getting a little out of hand around here. I don't think I can just stand by any longer. "What in the hell have the five of you shitheads been doing lately? Huh? Why is he drinking again? Who in the fuck left his knife out? Don't you sacks of shit realize that if he dies we all die? Oh, I get it. You all just have nothing to say now. Great. Well while the rest of you are standing around here doing a fuckload of nothing, I'm going to try and get some goddamn answers". Can you believe them? Letting him fall this far. We've been in this body for seventeen years. They should know how fragile his stupid heart is. And God knows not single person understands how gentle they have to be. I better go check our diagnostics.
Oh for fucks sake. So we haven't slept in days, headaches are more frequent, we keep spiking the coffee like that's going to ever fix anything, we're bleeding from 12 different spots, and he's officially lost all sense of purpose and self worth. Fan-fuckin-tastic. Well, the lacerations will heal themselves at least he's done worse. The caffeine cancels out the alcohol so he never actually gets drunk. So that just leaves sleep and self worth. How in the hell am I supposed to fix that? I wasn't exactly designed for this kind of work. My use is reserved for handling his father and  the ridiculously stupid. I need to go see why no one else is doing their fucking job.
There they are, the five of them Just blankly existing like zombies. "Look, I understand that he wants to die at the moment but that doesn't mean we act dead ourselves". I notice a new sheet of paper on the control panel. "You let Lover-Boy here write a story all on his own. Goddamn fools. All of you. I understand it was a nice gesture but he just isn't stable enough for that yet. I know it was just describing a daydream but still." That's just great.

"Well, you could never ruin Everything. That's just impossible".

"It's like you guys took that shit as a challenge when it was said. I know they all say it and  always turn out insincere but you don't have to go and test the limits. And still none of you are saying a word what the hell is wrong with all of you" I decide to inspect them considering no stimulation seems to activate them at all. The five of them are all just frozen. Unable to move or think for themselves. Even if they want to they're completely incapable of doing anything at all. There's a small puncture wound on the back of each of their necks. Outside the opening to each is a black liquid with the same consistency as blood but nowhere near as sticky. They all have pulses so they aren't permanently out of commission. This all seems so familiar. The last time this happened was when that pancreatic tragedy occurred. This time there doesn't seem to be a definitive trigger. No actual cause. At least I recognize what this is now. Our favorite parasite Depression is back. For no reason might I add. You see, I'm the only one it can't infect Because it can't handle the taste of something more evil and sinister than itself. There may only be one of me in this body but make no mistake I'm the largest one of them all. I control his envy, part of his masochism, and so much more. He just doesn't like to embrace me so I just keep quiet. That is, until I'm the only one left standing. Don't you worry though. There's darkness inside of everybody. It's a lot easier to bring out in some than others. But it's never scary until it's the only thing left. Nothing is more terrifying than someone with nothing left to lose. And without our Sanity what are we? I don't think I can get rid of this disease on my own. Let's hope he forgot where the noose is hidden. I'll try my best to get us back to normal.
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So, what If there's no going back? What if we're stuck like this for the rest of our lives? What if we truly are unlovable to every degree and every effort we make is all for nothing? As far as I can tell we're destined to be alone. And if the Lex Luthor has taught me anything; It's that we can't fight it no matter what. If I truly can't change that, I refuse to continue living through it any longer.

What If.... Part II.

    Have you ever tried to predict the future?  -- I know rhetorical questions are the cop-outs of intros just bare with me --
I sit and think by myself far too much for my own good. I've yet to see a positive side to these insomnia driven streaks of day dreaming that prevent me from actually being able to dream at all. I guess that's not too bad. Dreaming just sets me up to be disappointed in the end. Anyways, I play out all these conversations. I try to figure out what to say in moments that probably won't ever exist in the first place. So then the mind goes on and explores all the possibilities. Or rather, just what we wish would happen in that situation. I rarely am able to play out a scenerio in which I don't actually wish for.
         It's 6 in the morning. It's not like I can exactly talk to anyone about all these painful adventures my thoughts like to take me on. So we try and be positive. Across the 6 of us, positivity isn't exactly in our nature. Oh look, we got a "10/10" on the last one of these things. I'm glad someone can at least find joy in living inside my head for a few paragraphs. Granted, it's unlikely our biggest fan is going to hate hearing us as much as we do. We have to live with these constant babblings around the clock. Only about 10% ever makes it into digital data.

"What if we just shared more of it?"

Well, since these are more like movie scenes I  imagine in my head rather than just words I suppose we could give it a shot.

       Let's just be cliché and call this day dream "The Perfect Date" if you will. This one has been rattling around in my head for at least two months now. It's one of the happiest things I could imagine but I wish I had never thought of it because I know nothing will ever live up to or ever come close to replicating it even if I attempted it.
For ambiance I always imagine music constantly playing in the background. When I dream about this one it's usually something like "Angels Or Devils" by Dishwalla or "Today" by The Smashing Pumpkins. They aren't subtle in the least but damn are they good ones. I feel like a part of my mind is always listening to music by replaying them from memory. That's my guess on why my day dreams do this anyways.
So it starts off just a gathering as simple as any other.  I attempt to execute my poor excuse for trying to look good with my typical plethora of button downs and simple black pants. Attached is a Street Fighter belt people rarely see. I choose a gray undershirt simply because I've been told that's what works best with the armada of black I wear. Then I put in the effort to wrestle with my hair until my bangs only peer out of the corner of my forehead. The asymmetrical part of it always made me appreciate it.
As for her, whomever she is. Could be anyone really. Although, if I got to pick I'd certainly know who; but it's just a daydream so imagine who you'd like. She could wear anything. I'm not there to gawk at her. However, I do appreciate the shade of blue on her toenail polish. I'm picky with blues. Now that we have my visuals sorted out we can get to the imaginary event itself.

Now we're on a hill. Somewhere, anywhere. Whereever it is- for some reason I know for sure that it took quite awhile to get out there. Which is a great start given the potential for banter that may or may not have occurred. For some reason my mind jumps straight to the hill and yet still recalls myself being in the car.  Based on the time and place of the daydream sometimes the location changes. Sometimes it's right on the edge of the bay, sometimes it's the drive in. My personal favorite is the variation where it's not exactly a hill but a bench under a tree that looks right over the bay because the rest of the city is just naturally elevated. It's just a couple blocks from my house too. I remember being younger and I sat at that bench all by myself. I sat there for hours admiring the sunset. We're known for some of the best ones. After that day I promised myself I would never go there again until I had someone to share it with. So I haven't been there since.
So there we are, on my extra cliché bench. Which is an actual location, that only makes it worse. The sun is just beginning to set or it's already dusk. Those are the times where the sky is most beautiful. I could swear it was trying to compete with her. I notice the small streaks of sunlight bounce off of her. It's an unrealistic special effect sure. I don't control what the dream creates. So we're sitting there, just talking. Everytime she laughs a new butterfly would get loose in my stomach. My smile would get harder and harder to wipe off of my face. This moment just feels so perfect to me. In and out of the dream, I don't know what else I could ask for. As the sun gets lower the water starts  mimicking her eyes and sparkles. "It seems like mother nature has a jealousy problem". I accidentally say aloud. She just looks over in utter confusion given she can't hear my thoughts.
"What do you mean?" She asks
"Well, the sky didn't start getting beautiful until after you showed up so it must feel threatened" I can't tell you how many times I think of these kinds of responses and just never say them.

"Haha. Thanks" I didn't expect anything less out of her. Even my imagination understands how weird it gets to try and respond to a compliment of that degree.

Time goes by and it only gets darker. We just keep talking endlessly and I can feel myself falling faster for her with every exhaling breath. Except, I'm not afraid of it. I feel happy for once so there's no point in trying to repress what little good there is.
The conversation slows down and now I just can't help myself. I say what I've always wanted to.

"Can I see your hand?" I ask.
"Sure, but what for?"
"Just trust me. It's for scientific purposes" As she curiously moves her hand over to me I simply take it and examine it. I press my own hand against hers comparing the sizes and lengths of our fingers. I intertwine my fingers with hers. Simply ignoring whatever confused look she has and focusing solely on our hands. After a couple seconds I just let go and sit back as though nothing has happened.
"Can I know the reasoning behind your 'science'?" She awkwardly inquires.
"Well, humans are like puzzle pieces. Right? So I was just curious on how well we fit together that's all."
"Oh, I see. And what exactly are your findings?"
"I'd say we fit well."
"How so?"
"I had forgotten what being happy even felt like until I was here with you."
"Lucky for you making people happy is my favorite thing to do."
"Unluckily, I think I'm falling in love with you".
"That's okay. You feel what you feel and you're brave enough to profess it to the world and not care what anyone else thinks. I admire that. I won't give you false hope or anything but we'll see what happens".
"Thanks. Don't worry, I'm not good enough for anyone to love. I certainly don't expect you to".
"Don't ever think that."
"But it's tru-"
"Shush, no it's not. Now I think the temperature dropped and I don't have gloves so I'm going to need one of your hands back." Instantly one of my infamous smirks pops over my face along with the short breath of air that always companies it.
"I don't care what happens. Just never abandon me okay?" I worriedly ask as one uncontrollable tear escapes the ducts at the edge of my eye.
"You worry too much. I can't abandon you. You have a diary to finish reading remember?"

From there it's just a classic zoom out of the two of us sitting there under the moon. The background music slowly gets louder as though it were the ending to a TV show.
So there you have it. One of the reoccurring daydreams that keep me up at night. Finally mapped out and told. I'll probably regret this one but oh well. It'll never happen Anyways so it's no big deal. Don't forget, only 10% ever leaves my brain. There's a lot more daydreams to be told.
So what if this were real? Would I be as happy as I think I would be? Would I just be let down? Would this ever even be possible? I don't think it ever will be but no one can ever be sure.

What If.... Part I.

        Have you ever felt more alone in a crowd of people than ever before? I've somehow acquired this illness that makes everything worse the more people happen to be involved. I feel like the more people you add to a mix the more opinions you subconsciously worry about. Therefore everyone I'm around changes a bit and they act a little differently. I find it insincere most times; mainly because unbeknownst to them it affects the way they treat me and I notice. Just one person is always enough for me. When it's one on one I have no one else to worry about except the other person. I can focus on them, actually sense how they feel without that being tainted. When I'm allowed to devout that much attention to a single person or moment, I'm able to truly appreciate that time and remember it.
           I glance around a lot. Mostly when talking to people but even when I'm watching a movie I can't help but look around-- absorb the room. I try and focus so I can remember what color their eyes decided to be that day. Without memories the things we do in life and the people we make them with barely exist. Given that I prefer my memories to have as much detail as possible. It makes the good times really damn good. I form the memories to keep me happy as long as possible since I might not get the chance the make another one. Sure, all the sand at the end of my bed is a good reminder. But not as good as the detail of the moon reflecting light onto her eyes as she left.
            Alas, Everything has two sides. It's Newton's third law. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. So of course the bad memories are all the harder to forget in the end. Naturally, negative memories last a lot longer simply by human nature. Let alone when you keep as much detail as I do. See, I have so much to choose from too. With the former it was as simple as referencing the most recent joyous memory I have. Unfortunately the happy ones fade since Everything I love leaves in the end.  It's almost like negative memories are sentient and they purposefully stick around because they get a kick out of tormenting humans. Unlike most, I'm fully aware of how fragile we are; so are the memories.
            Since I gave an example of a positive one I'm sure you're just enthralled and curious as to what depressing anecdote I'll mention. Despite it's unoriginality and the fact that you're probably one of the 400 witnesses that night. Let's flashback together.
         This is the night Lucky number 7 earned her place as another knot in my homemade noose. Little did I know that in the following months would all lead to 2 more suicide attempts. With her name all over the cover page*. -- Speaking of which if I would've double knotted the damn thing it probably would've worked -- Anyways, it started as what I had predicted to be a good night. I was preprogrammed to add lots of detail to these memories. That was my first mistake. Fuck this, let's just start where it begins to hurt.
         Remember what I said about being most alone in a crowd? That's when it hit me. It was a small circle of people. Myself, the only couple in the school that doesn't make me want to vomit, unlucky #7, her future superhero Captain Failing Pancreas, and finally the one who noticed. That dreadful moment. Any amount of joy leading up to that point immediately vanished. A friendship died that night. She couldn't even give it a proper burial. There I awkwardly stood, balancing between my surgically sewn legs, to a song I've never heard before with someone who didn't even want to be there with me. She sat and gawked at him the whole night. I was just a proxy so that she could go on her first unofficial date with Mr. Type 1.
           As time went on I only ended up feeling worse and worse. Despite my interest in acting, I can't exactly fake my facial expressions when I get like that. However there was only one person who seemed to notice. It was nothing major, but she was the first person to ask if I was okay. Funny enough, to this day she's one of 2 humans who care enough to still ask. She was a nice enough person. I didn't really ever speak to her before so the concern meant something given that I wouldn't have expected her to care about me. I was honest and said no. But I didn't want to depress her night so I agreed to just explain it later. She lived up to it and was still willing to listen to me after a week had passed. Despite all of her own things to deal with. -- That has always stuck with me, when you did that. I know you were just being yourself sharing human decency but I still appreciate it. So thank you. -- Fourth wall breaks aside, Hodge's inquired to my emotions as well. I remember explaining, "There's nothing more depressing than going to a dance with someone who won't even talk to you".
"Damn man that's rough. Good luck. "  A short and sweet response. I respect that. He had his own girlfriend to attend to so from guy to guy there's no reason in bothering him further with how I felt. He made falling in love with your best friend look so easy. At least there's proof it isn't entirely impossible.  Anyways, after a couple hours the intense bass began to rearrange my organs. Don't these people understand the Physical consequences of soundwaves? I eventually decided to abandon the circle. I didn't care if it made a scene or not. Low and behold #7 finally notices. I remember she tried to apologise. I saw her lips move, but I couldn't hear her over the godawful music and the sharp ping of a heart shattering. This isn't a normal heart shatter either. It's the kind you get when someone you love takes everything that makes your bond with them special and lights it on fire. That's not even the part that hurt most. Friendships die left and right it's a part of life and growing up. But it's being left alone to die, and watch that flame burn out by myself that I can't handle. I remember telling her that too.
"I asked someone to look after you" she said.
"Well guess what Seven? You quit and didn't even give me a two weeks notice. I will never forgive you so don't waste my time asking. I don't hate you... But scars don't heal. And neither will your broken promise".
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That night was 5 months ago. If I dwell on it I still gets me just as upset. (Obviously). So now the purpose. It's really hard to tell why I've gone and typed all this up in the first place. What if that night never happened? Would it all have ended the same way? Would I still be friends with one of the best authors I've met? Would I still be alive? We'll never know. Some may say that it's a bit unreasonable to still be upset after so long. While i can certainly see where their idea comes from, the past never goes away. The stars we see died out thousands of years ago and it's only now that we're able to see their light. The past is constantly affecting the present.

While we're here, I'd like to apologise for not writing actual stories In awhile. This goes out to anyone. My one loyal fan/fellow author. My trusty editor and any other random strangers that may care to read these things. That goes to anyone in the future too; who's either binge reading these Because I got famous or it's just the coronor who's trying to piece together why I jumped. The only times I've created an actual character recently were all over text. Now my writing has just been reduced to an hour long conversation I have with myself. And yet I still try and pretend as though I'm talking to someone at 5 AM. Even if it's still good that just makes me articulate. I don't know if that makes me a writer anymore. I'm just Monologuing about my thoughts day to day. I guess that just makes this place nonfiction now.

Solnyshka (draft)

My dear Solnyshka,

            Little Sun... I always found that so fitting for you. You slowly became the brightest part of my day. You continued to keep my world from going dark. Even when I have little to no value to repay you with. Somehow you have this marvelous ability to bring about a level of comfort and tranquility usually reserved for the power of thunderstorms.
        They say eyes are the window to a humans soul. This brings me to a delimma I can't tell whether your eyes are the beautiful part or if it's really your soul that I end up getting lost in when I look at you.

Sincerely,
   Nobody.

P.S.
"Ya obozhayu tebya."
And I'm sorry that I do.

     If it seems unfinished that's because it is at it's core.  There was supposed to be so much more to this initially. But once I saw that it worried you I lost anything extra I might've had to say. And now it's impossible to go back and try and recreate what I wanted.

Futures

           Time, it listens to no one yet affects Everything. It's the one thing that ties us all together. Time constantly moves in one direction and yet ironically the universe does nothing but repeat itself. No matter how hard I try to break the cycle. No matter how different Everything seems or feels nothing changes. No matter how much I change nothing works. They can be proud of me all they want but I still can't shake my purely inevitable self-destructive path.
The universe simply does not care whether or not we're apart of it. Our existence is purely the worst side effect that an exploding nebula has to offer. We're just constrained by time. Our futures are already written we just have no clue what's written on the pages. Frankly I really could care less if I read my next chapter...
   
        It's just been one of those days I guess. I feel so uncontrollable sometimes. I'm fully aware free will is an illusion but it's not supposed to be this bad. Remember how history likes to repeat itself? Well I was fucking stupid enough to recognize my patterns. No matter what I do it's still the same pattern. I'm helpless, my emotions just run a muck and just ruin every meaningful relationship I manage to conjure up purely out of luck. They don't listen to me. No matter what I do, what I say, who I distract myself with. I'm destined to constantly be my own worst enemy. Knowing that, it really makes me question if the future is worth even looking into. I mean, if something is ruining your life, like alcohol for example. You just get rid of it all Together. Or even other people you just cut them off and move on.  If that's the solution how the fuck am I supposed to cut off my own emotions. I feel trapped in my own emotions Because the moment I let them loose the intensity just scares everyone. That's what happens when you restrain something for so long. If you chain up a dog for years, the moment that fucker gets free he's running all over the place just trying to make the most out of his freedom Because he has no idea how long it'll last. My emotions are no different than that dog.

           So I pick a different bottle. I magically stumbled across some vodka and I immediately couldn't help myself and the next thing I know I have an Irish coffee in my hand while no one knows any different. Keeps me distracted enough to stop arguing with myself for a few hours. Then what? The realization that I have it engrained in me by my entire family to simply just have a drink when I feel fucked in the head. Nothing like watching your mother chug a 20 oz. Bloody Mary in under a minute when she's upset. It's written into my pages since birth.

     "Who am I to argue with destiny?"

      At least only 1/6 of me actually believes that statement. Meanwhile the rest of us stay self-aware.

        We're keeping Lover-Boy locked In place because we can't afford to fall one step further. The Little idiot's falling hard and we can barely stop him. He's just afraid to lose everything again so of course he gets more antsy than he should. The poor kid had his best friend drop him in the blink of an eye just for some kid with no insulin.
       
           I should've written this sooner. It's actually helping despite the clear deviation from purpose.  I guess there's no point in dragging this on any longer.

"Sladkih Snov" ~ Nobody