Flickering beneath the waves

I wonder when things stopped being simple.
I won't go into too much detail about that right at this very moment. What I do know is that I'm going through a bad time right now, I hope to work my way through it in a few days, so for awhile I'm just going to shut up.

Beauty of the Beast

It's a strange emotion. Anger. It creeps up on you, builds slowly, then springs a leak when you least expect it.
Do I have reason to be angry? I wonder. I always tell myself that my anger is unjustified, that it's just me losing myself over something stupid. But sometimes I wonder. Let's see... what am I angry about?
A stupid, arrogant, materialistic world that's doing everything in its power to destroy everything in it?
Money?
The general cruelties of humans?
The fact that I can't really relate to anyone?
My upcoming final trial - and the fact that I can't drive December from my mind?
The way everyone assumes that I don't know what I'm doing?
A girlfriend whose life is too busy for her to want or need me?
A friend I've never seen who can't understand why I'm not interested in her bondage obsession and strange sexual fantasies?
My own self-loathing?
Parents who don't understand me (and knowing how cliche that is)?
The fact that, no matter what I say now, I will later apoligize profusely and never let the thought cross my mind again that maybe I'm not really as "fine" as I tell myself that I am?
Whatever. If I keep going I'm just going to start ranting more than I already have. I'm wrong, aren't I? I always am.

Break

Woo.
Chris has been humiliated. Him, the horror movie marathon veteran who's had the summer off, fell asleep during Scream 3. I, the one who'd just finished an exam at the end of a month of summer school, was able to sit through the entirety of the series. Three slasher movies. We went to bed at three in the morning. I got up at nearly eight, picked up my report card at eight thirty, then was back in bed by quarter to nine and didn't get up until one. Eleven past one, in fact. I got a 77, by the way. Quite a morning. Now I really, really need to shower. My hair is disgusting. Also I'm thirsty, but I can't be bothered to get anything to drink.

Perhaps I should lay a few things down...

A Short Guide to Being my Girlfriend

1. Be completely honest with me, even if it's something I don't want to hear. Especially if it's something I don't want to hear.
2. Let my know if I'm getting too clingy, but don't push me away altogether. I need physical contact.
3. Recognize when I'm hurt or upset. Don't let me hide it.
4. Sometimes I say or do things that are insensitive, hurtful or just plain stupid. Tell me when I don't seem to realize I've upset someone, but don't hate me because of my mistakes. I don't intend to hurt people.
5. Accept that however much you treat me as an individual, I will always be a multiple. Don't let it change how you feel towards me, just acknowledge it.
6. Tell me everything is going to be all right. Remind me I'm a good person. Don't let me fall into despair.
7. Don't try to protect my feelings. I can sense when I'm not being told something, and that makes it worse.
8. There are no relationship problems that we can't overcome. I won't give up on you if you won't give up on me.
9. Even though I can't prove any of the weird things that happen to me, please believe me. I don't care if you think I'm schizophrenic or if there's really something out there, just don't tell me I'm making it up. Calling me a liar is one of the most hurtful things anyone can do to me.
10. Just be there for me. That's all I can really ask for.

Quax?

Note to self.
Styx? Seriously, dude? SHUT. The HELL. UP. Everyone is sick of your whining.
Now that's out of the way...

Exam tomorrow. I should be studying. Instead lately I've been playing Dark Ages. Really old MMORPG, about 77 deochs or whatever that translates to in real-world time. The only players still around are the veterans who use it as more of a social networking service and the utter n00bs who plague it. I'm not registered, so while it's free for me I only get around half the content. It's okay, though. I'm not looking to master it or anything, it's just to pass the time. I guess I'm just the sort of person who can lose themself in pointless repetition. What can I say? I like RPGs. Also, I get to kill things with my level 28 warrior. It's strangely satisfying.

I think the amount of productive work done in any period of free time rises in proportion to the amount of free time available, and inversely proportional to the amount of work that needs to be done. I think.

I was challenged to write a very specific story on the spot. This is the result.


It was morning again. At least, it looked like morning. The sky was always red now. Vaguely Sam wondered why, but he didn't really care. He was hungry. With a small yawn he stood up and stretched.
The rest of the family was in the kitchen. Sam looked at their tired faces and wondered what the matter could be. He was sure it would be all right, though. Grown-ups could fix anything. "Mom?" he called out. "What's for breakfast?" His mother looked up, her face grey and haggard. She obviously hadn't slept in a long time.
"Nothing, Sam," she said softly. "There's nothing left."
"But I'm HUNGRY," whined Sam. Seeing as no reply was forthcoming he gave up and went outside. The heat was almost unbearable, but at least it was quiet. "Biff?" he called out. There was a quick scampering and a small, painfully thin dog crawled out from under the deck.
Sam jumped down and gave him a hug, careful not to touch where his ribs were showing. "There's nothing left to eat, Biff," whispered Sam. "What do you think we'll do now?" The dog stared, blinking stupidly.
The pair went back inside, cooling only slightly as the failing air conditioning hit them. Nobody looked up. They just sat, hunched over, staring at nothing.
Sam approached his mother, tugging softly at her sleeve. "Momma," he said, an edge of uneasiness creeping into his voice, "why is everyone so sad?" She only sighed softly and put a limp hand on his shoulder. Biff whined.
Uncle Max glanced over slowly. He nudged Frank. "The dog," he said simply. Frank hesitated, started to nod, then stopped. Everyone seemed to look sideways at Sam.
"No!" said his mother fiercely, suddenly angry. "We agreed. We can't do that."
"Why?!" Shouted Uncle Max back. Sam walked back and sat next to Biff, hands over his ears. "So we can die a little sooner? Why the hell not?"
"What does that make us?" screamed his mother. Tears started to well up in Sam's eyes. He didn't like it when people shouted, and they were shouting because of Biff, and he hadn't even done anything wrong!
"Shut up! Just shut up!" Yelled Uncle Max. Then he was out of his chair, and Frank was standing too, and then someone pushed Sam out of the way.
He screamed and closed his eyes, hands still over his ears. Biff let out a yelp. Sam's mother stood screaming at them to stop, and then she hit Frank, and Frank hit her back and she fell over. There were a few moments of silence, and when Sam opened his eyes Frank, Uncle Max and Biff were all gone.
His father still hadn't moved. Slowly he let out a sigh and put his head on the table.
"Momma?" Sam asked, tears beginning to run down his face. "What are they gonna do with Biff?"
She took Sam in her arms and held him tight. "It's gonna be okay, Sam. It's gonna be okay."
There was a tiny clunk and the air conditioning finally gave out, surrendering the house completely to the blood-red sun.

Also, they're making a movie of Watchmen. Very exciting. Apparently it struggled in developmental hell for the longest time because everyone said it was unfilmable. I hope they do a good job.

The End of the Werld

Another moment of "who am I kidding." Again, it's not a question.

She had the talk with her mother. Now she knows the truth, or some of it. It wasn't easy. It changed her world forever. Nothing will be the same for her ever again. It's a great, terrible and beautiful image.

And where was I?

Nowhere.

And that's probably my problem, not hers... but...

Let's be real here. She doesn't need me. Cares for me deeply, yes, but she could live without me. She's tough as nails, solid as mountains, strong as the world. Me? I'm pathetic. Strong and weak. Flip flop. Never the same. Hopeless.

Maybe I give too much. I keep falling deeper and deeper into myself, tearing myself apart to search for just one pure part of me to give away. I will never fulfill my dreams. I will never reach my potential. I will tell myself to the end of time that pain is all I deserve, so I won't be disappointed when it's all I find. But what about what I want? Can I never be happy just for myself? Or must I forever give away emptiness... and ultimately take everything and receive nothing?

Somewhere out there there's a city without walls. Some day I hope to find it.

Whatever.

Maybe I was better off alone. I was cold, I was empty, but at least I was sure of myself.

And it's this exact attitude that killed my relationship stone dead last time.

Do you know it took her two whole months to tell me that she didn't love me any more? I could feel it the whole time, her slipping further and further away from me. It was agony. I kept asking her if the still loved me, begging her to tell me the truth. Every time she refused to answer. But I never gave up hope. I told myself that things would improve. I came out to my parents about being a multiple for her. I tried to lighten up - but it was hard, so hard, when I knew that my love didn't want me near her. At long last she told me she felt used and manipulated, that I wasn't listening to her, that I loved her only for myself, that I wasn't who I thought I was. It hurt. I don't think she ever really accepted that I was a multiple, or the things I saw. I asked her then to tell me honestly what she thought I really was. She refused to reply. She never did tell me the truth.

She broke my heart. Simple as that. She hurt me, and I have long since forgiven her; but I hurt her first, and I never forgave myself. I don't think I ever will.

I told myself I'd stop cutting. Everyone certainly thinks I have. But no one noticed the palms of my hands. I guess no one was looking. I guess no one will care if I do it again.

Some days it really sucks to be me, you know? I need to empty the dishwasher now.

Bad timing

I didn't want to go out tonight.

My mother told me to go for a walk, just a short one, and there's no arguing. I wouldn't know how to argue. She's never seen the giants, or the watchers, or the great birds during the night. She doesn't know what's out there. She doesn't understand why I'm afraid. She doesn't understand how they can hurt... and if I try to explain... more bad things will erupt. No good ever comes of me talking back. So I had to go. Besides, it's safer to keep moving.

I felt it as soon as I stepped outside. Warning lights blinking on and off all through my head, I saw it as soon as I began walking. Dark fire. And I knew, coming for me soon... was a Dark Giant. I kept walking, wondering why. Where was I going? Why was I doing this? Why did I keep going, when I knew the danger? Why?
Near the end of the street I finally saw it. It was coming towards me. I spoke aloud. "If it got me now, would anyone notice?"
Across the street, it towered over me.
"Would I notice?"
It was right next to me.
I closed my eyes. "Would I care?"
And then it reached out and touched me.

Seriously, that's all it did. It touched me. In the side.
It was a strange feeling. Not as though something had taken hold in me; not that kind of feeling. More like when something really cold is pressed against you, and it leaves a cold impression when you take it away. Not like that, but it was that sort of feeling. Suffice to say it was unlike anything I've ever experienced - certainly not in a positive way, but not quite in a negative way either. And so, asking myself over and over what had just happened, I carried on.

I didn't mention. That night, at jiu-jitsu. I was trying a few empathic exercises, measuring levels of focus from groups and how they changed as movements became more or less complex, when I felt something... strange. A presence. Something possibly... malignant. I honestly don't know. I did my best to hide for the next ten minutes or so.

Walking on, I decided to take a shortcut across a field. But then, looking up, I saw to my surprise the dark fire in the sky. I'd never seen it so close, right overhead. I told myself to back up and go around it. Instead I kept walking. I felt a slight shiver as I came under its shadow. I came to a path. "I can take this path," I said, "and go straight home. I need to get out of here. It would be a very, very bad idea to continue." I didn't take the path. I couldn't seem to stop myself.
The fire was centered over the school, right there in front of me. And there, right in the middle... something was there. Something big. Not quite as big as the Giants, but somehow more menacing. A great winged, horned beast, connected to the fire above by a dark light. Not the Dark King, no... but I still felt a dark sense emanating from this creature. I have named it the Fire Prince. I told myself to stop walking, right this instant. I couldn't seem to stop.
"You can't fight that thing," I said. I didn't stop. "What are you trying to prove?" I came closer and closer. "God," I whispered. "Help me." A strange move, for me. I don't usually turn to benedictions... perhaps I should, more often. Perhaps a certain someone has been a good influence on me.
It was as though the night became day. The sun shone through the fire, and the beast vanished just as I reached it. It stood before me, exactly the same but suddenly my height. Yet forward I kept walking. Drawing closer and closer, I took a deep breath...
"Hey, do you know what time it is?"
"Yeah, it's about quarter to nine," I yelled back to the guy with the cigarette. I looked down. I was standing right where the prince had been. Uncertain, I took a step forward -

Three slashes, down and to the left. Two more, down and to the right. All over in a second.

Don't ask how I managed to get home. It wasn't easy.
I think I'm going to be okay. These were wounds meant to hurt, not to kill. God only knows what would have happened if I hadn't asked for His help; and I mean that literally.
And she's gone.
Tonight's the last night. Tomorrow morning she leaves. And we've said our goodbyes. Of all the nights, it would be the one... when I can't even tell her... how much I need her.
But maybe that's for the best.
It's for the good of everyone that she's going away. She's happy, the kids are happy, and because I know she's happy in a way I'm happy too. And I'll miss her terribly... but it's not forever. Few things are, really.
But look. I'm fine. When it comes to it I generally am. Wounds heal. Everything's better in the end. You'll see.
Oh, and when I say "the kids" I mean the ones she's working with at the camp. Not our kids. Because that would be weird. Very much so.

I can hear fireworks.

This is not the straw that broke the camel's back. This is the veritable crabload of bricks that crushed the camel completely, leaving only a greasy stain that no one wants to clean up. I just don't want to ruin another relationship because of the stupid and crazy things that happen to me. After all that's happened, I don't want to drive her away...

I still don't know what shape it is.

First day of school. Interesting, to say the least. The plan is, you see, to cram a weeks worth of learning into every day, so things are a bit rushed. At least there's only another 17 days to go.

I made the following notes, detailing my experience:
higher male/female ratio
no visible maps
colours: acceptable, if bland
equipment: standard, I suppose. at least we have actual chairs.
There is screaming in the distance. Loud noises
General aura: one of high tension - unspoken
People: nice enough. Some intel, some not. Don't know enough to tell yet.
Teacher: beard.
Numbers: sensical.
Current music: Shut Me Up, MSI
Smells: new school, tinted with use
pressure on outer edged of face, strongest beneath eyes.
No bell system. Strange.

Seriously, my teacher does look like a cross between my old Science teacher and Hugo Weaving with a huge beard and threatening eyebrows. Tis strange.

I also made the following observations during the breaks:

Are stereotypes formed slowly based on the actions of several individuals over a period of time or can each one be individually traced back to a single person whose actions and appearance defined a paradigm at one time during one single event?
One single moment that changes the way the world sees itself forever?
Who are these people? Where were they? When did they become the ones to represent their race? And if we could change the exact moment when that image spread, how different would the world be now?

In the human race there is no finish line, but that won't stop people from doing whatever it takes to reach the front.
It doesn't bloody matter who's in front.

Random blog experiment:


Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net


Hope that works.

I've also been pondering the question of power lately. Not physical power, mind; or at least, not directly. Let's start with that example, though. Muscles power us. When we don't use our muscles, they atrophy. When we work our muscles, they tear and rebuild themselves. That makes us stronger. I think people are the same way. Some people are naturally stronger than others, but no matter who you are when you get hurt you recover stronger than ever. Scar tissue is stronger than ordinary skin, I like to say. And when people have to deal with things that are one way or another painful to them, they get stronger because of it. Some people break down because of nearly nothing. Maybe they're just made that way, or maybe they just haven't experienced anything stronger. Some of us, like one in particular, have endured great hardship; say, an absent father, angry mother and unreasonable family? She is one of the most powerful people I have ever met, and I admire and respect that. Then there's another I know whose mother died; not only that, but he saw his two best friends shot dead right in front of him. He's strong, all right... but also cracked, right down the middle. He was hit so hard he never fully recovered - fell into a slump that he never really came out of. I guess it's about how badly we can hurt ourselves without being crippled. And then there's me... I used to break down easily. Then something hit me so hard I shattered completely. I had to rebuild myself completely, in separate pieces, no less... there's very little of me left that's not scar tissue, but it doesn't disguise the fact that I am, fundamentally, broken. Because I couldn't cope with this staggering event I am now both the strongest and the weakest person you will ever meet, for exactly the same reason.

I can't believe no one's noticed my palm yet. I guess no one's really looking for it. I guess no one's really looking.

Something tells me she's been thinking about her dad lately. Can't quite put my finger on it; just a hunch. Yup.
I wish I could relate better... actually, that's a terrible thought. I'm glad I can't- no. Wait. Ach, meave. Forget it.
I just hope she knows that I'm there for her. I can't see myself as being able to help much, but if there's anything I can do... well. You know. Because I do care about her. Truly I do.
I would elaborate, but my laptop battery is about to die. Sigh. I wish I could just move the thing back up here.

So I'm a good choice?

Crush my windpipe. Go on. I dare you.

More and more I'm beginning to question my relationship status. Having a girlfriend who is completely free to push me around and knows it and does so is actually really comforting for me, seeing as I've never been particularly good at taking charge, but given that I'm the one using her for my emotional support it begs the question of exactly what she sees in me. But then, I've always said that. Certainly I'm proof to her family that she is capable of making good decisions, and I know she cares about me... I assume she cares about me. I'm doing my best not to look too directly into her mind, on the basis that weird shit attracts more weird shit in accordance with the Laws of Weird Shit, and if the past is any indication no good ever comes of this. And yet. She's made more than one reference to other boys in the future, and while she's probably just being a realist... what can I say? She is just being a realist. And it hurts, not just because she's thinking it but because she's probably right. I have no problem with accepting her for who she is but I can't ask anyone to accept me for what I am. I'm the one who needs to change. I'm the problem character here. And things are just starting to sort themselves out, and it looks like we may have a chance to be happy together... which means that another bad thing is going to happen soon and I'll spiral into depression again. Am I being manic-depressive? Pessimistic? Or, based on my past relationships, a realist? I honestly couldn't say.
I want to think that there's hope, you know? That this isn't just another high school romance leading to more bad memories. I know it's been long since proven that no matter how beautiful a love is, it will probably fail. Because we're young. Again, the youth. An older, "wiser" person might tell me that these trials and tribulations I live through will make me a stronger person, and each relationship I have will help me make better decisions in the future. But, I would answer, what am I supposed to feel now? Should I pursue relationship after relationship, knowing full well that it's destined to end in heartbreak, so that someday countless years from now I'll find someone to love forever? Is there no hope for me now? How can I go on, knowing that there is no hope for me until some set date so far away as to be invisible? It's all very well saying I'll be older and stronger and wiser in the future... but what about now? How can I live right now?
I know. I am weak. So what if I'll be strong someday? How is that supposed to make me feel right now?

I remember being... happy.
Humans are so strange.