The cuts on the wall were many, the cuts on the wall were deep. His malice poured into each one, let us hope they do not consume.

“I don’t really understand..”

“— we don’t understand that honey, only Jesus and God know that.”

“But why di..”

“— We just have to trust in Jesus because he knows everything.”

Blow my fucking brains out.

I couldn’t find you in that barren storm, I couldn’t find you. Like twigs beneath you are people crushed, those faces you saw but never knew. I can’t imagine how you feel, but sometimes I glimpse what you see. High above it all, you and I sit. We look down on them, but we can’t see their faces from here. It’s a necessary perch, no doubt, but is it solid? Won’t it come crumbling down? Won’t one of those faces pierce right through, and send us hurtling towards our limits? No, We can’t think of that now, we can’t consider ourselves in times so critical as these, times when we grasp at nothing. Those faces are ever-bold, they penetrate and perplex. Those faces are there for a reason, but it’s just beyond our comprehension. Let us open them up than, and take what we will. Let us drink of their spirit, than climb up their corpses. We are noble, we are genuine, we are free.

This is what skyping with you feels like :D

:3

Such atrocities did he commit, all for the sake of his father’s approval. The screams of his victims fell on deaf ears as the immense sphere of destruction carved it’s path through such a placid land of casual frivolity. The mice were not quick enough to stop him. The cat’s claws were no match for his clever maneuvering. The dog’s teeth held no chance of snagging either him, or his ball of doom before it redoubled in size and absorbed them all with barely a yelp, meow, or squeak in protest. Even men and their bullets stood no chance against his iron will. He went right on rolling, gathering and combining, because that’s all he knew how to do. He’d bring them all together, he’d make them all one. There would be no more suffering, blame, or disappointment because they’d all be the same and together. The pain of individualism would be wiped away forever, and the stars would be that much brighter.

A dystopian society ruled by sadistic old rich people holds a social experiment on a large group of young people. I’m the oldest one in the experiment. They trap them all in a school to survive, and introduce a black blob called the “bubble“. It’s vague about what the bubble does, other than gives the holder all the power in the group. The bubble makes it so that it’s wielder dictates what religion is practiced, and which philosophies everyone must subscribe to, both personal and political. At first discussions about who should have the bubble are civil, and  the first few candidates’ terms go relatively smooth, besides one thing; The animosity and bitterness all those that disagree with the current holder’s views. I take advantage of the opportunity by asserting that I should have it because of my age. I think that I know what’s best for everyone. That’s a mistake. After that there’s an all out power struggle and my dream implies (it’s hard to explain how that works) that a lot of bad things happen, and I get in a lot of trouble, even once almost escaping the school, at the risk of setting off the explosive implant in my brain.


My dream suddenly “jump cuts” (who knew they could do that?) to a group of children, including my self, calmly walking down a hall to the chapel, or mosque, or whatever it’s called at the time. Generic worship area. On the way we pass by two overseeers; Their expressions are ones of defeat as they pretend to find the floor way more interesting than it actually is. We arrive, and take our places in the pews. We all lift up our hands and start chanting. “We will ignore the bubble, we will ignore the bubble, we will ignore the bubble.” There’s an overseeer there too. His expression is of disgust.

Anyway, I thought it was pretty crazy for my unconscious mind to come up with that all by it’s self.

You’ll find me wedged in some terrible, dark place. You’ll find me on the brink of insanity, you’ll find me anywhere but your shallow memories and public displays of concern. I inhabit no world but my own, which I’ve disgustingly let you convince me is yours. I’ll be resisting until I can’t anymore, not because It’s who I am, but because it’s who I should be. All the fucking grime on the planet is mine to inherent, only at the cost of a non-existent soul. There isn’t a single tear to shed for my lost humanity, because humanity was always disgusting. I can prove I’m worth something by proving I’m not. My existence is not my chain.

A tremulous tumble through thoughts hidden, a ceaseless reflection on nothing but the stale self. “Show me your self” they say, “Show me your self”. To explode would be too easy, to let loose all those bits and pieces, to drown them all with such gruesome revelations. The worst is yet to be realized, the worst is that they cannot drown. They have no lungs to breath with, they absorb your defeat instead. It is nourishment to them, unyielding and stubborn in their way. They turn it around to suit their realities, they pervert it to accommodate their machine, they use it to corrupt their young, and preach it to themselves all day long.

You can not yell loud enough to be heard, you can not matter if you are. People are people.