Thursday, May 3, 2012


There are voices in my head.

I know what it means.  It means I'm going crazy.  That I'm breaking down.  Only these aren't just some imaginary voices, they're his voices.  They're whispers that sound like spiders crawling through my brain and gnawing holes in my thoughts and crawling into them.

They come and go and I don't even realize when they do.  Sometimes I'll suddenly start hearing them and I'll just brush them off but sometimes I'll be sitting down staring at my computer screen and suddenly realize that I haven't touched it in an hour and then I'll realize that I can't hear anything and it's because he's there and I know he's there I can hear him, I can feel him and I'll turn around and he'll be gone.

They're gone.  They're all gone and he's all that's left.


  1. If they start singing to you,

    get out of that house.

    Find some way to stop it, drown it out.

    I couldn't do it, but maybe you can.

    It never stops. It will never stop. Cut it off, tear out the root, break the spiral, DON'T LET IT GET IN.

    1. It's too late, it's always too late. Don't you see? He's already gone down the path.. you know which one. He's in pain, he wants to die, he wants to breakdown and feel no pain anymore. I know, because I've seen it.

      Someone might want to try breaking down that door of his, before he does something stupid to himself. Or someone else. You know it's true..

    2. He let me in for a while. I'm writing it up on my blog now.

  2. ...I don't know what to say. Just got an email informing me of Atalanta's death.

    Her too.

    They all fall, one by one. All of them fall and I'm the only one who's left.


    And now Atalanta.

    1. Things out there that're worse than death. Just keep yourself together.

  3. Dude. You are being a real wimp ass whiny bitch right now. Now let me in before I have to use Zombie's head for a battering ram. Because I'm not sure Zombie would like that and I have to share a flat with him.

  4. Some bad shit's going to happen if you guys don't pull your heads out of your asses. Remember what happened just before Poe broke? Seem familiar? Do something about it this time.

    Do what Messi refused to, and fucking do something.

    Before the man does something the "voices" want him to.

  5. *ahem* Wall of quoted text incoming...

    "When it comes to dealing with the subject of death, most people just writhe like a flagellum and puke melodrama. It's always the same bromides. "Oh it's so hard but I understand what you're going through, oh it's difficult but you're strong, blah blah blah, death is sad and you'll never get used to it because everybody is a unique snowflake and this is totally not an excuse to pretend to be a motivational speaker."

    These people are full of shit. They don't know a single thing about death that doesn't come from a TV screen. So I'm just going to say it like it is.

    You're gonna get used to death

    And it's not a bad thing.

    It's not a bad thing because death makes you learn more about yourself. I'm not entirely sure how to say this so bear with me. It's like this. You are defined by everybody that you meet. Right? It doesn't matter if they were pretty cool guys or if they were assholes, you always react to people. These reactions leave a mark behind. All of these marks are then color-coded based on your feelings and arranged into a mosaic that paints your portrait, pixels by pixels.

    And every time you lose someone, there's a part of yourself that is going to die. It's like something was ripped out from your portrait and it leaves a hole behind.

    It's not sad or traumatizing or anything like that just by itself, it's just a hole. But you can TELL that something is missing. Like when you can't remember something and you know that there's something you forgot but you can't do anything about it. That kind of hole.

    So you'll find yourself thinking about casual stuff and it'll lead to thinking about someone that died and it'll lead to a void and you'll be like "oh right, there's a piece that is missing". That's the death of a person, right there. You'll go through this crap even if the person was a dick. In fact, the death of assholes is often the most confusing of them all because you don't understand why you miss them.

    Yet the the thing is, you'll grow up. You'll get over it. You're just going to paint over the hole in your portrait and you'll keep on going. In the end, the person's death didn't really mean anything. Unlike in fancy stories, deaths are anticlimatic and pointless. I mean, real events don't have any moral. They don't need to have a moral."


    1. "I think cliché stories are harmful in that regard, they lead people to expect proper dénouement from things that never promised to make sense. And then these people don't know how to cope with it. They'll squint with their eyes and look everywhere for a moral secretly woven in the wax and wanes of their adventure. But there isn't anything hidden. It's just stuff that happens. And people dying is a part of stuff that happens.

      The looming feeling of loss that comes with death is just a concomitant overgrowth, a superficial extension to a meeting by happenstance. There is no logic to be found in these individual events. There's nothing that can explains why someone had to die because shit, there's never a good reason for it.

      But still there is a point of interest in all of this. It makes you discover something important about yourself that you can't see otherwise. It's when you realize that no matter how many times you lose parts of yourself, there's one part of you that never gets replaced. It's a part of you that just doesn't die.

      And it's the part of you that isn't defined by other people.

      I mean, it's like how you can't smell your scent, or how you don't recognize your voice when it's recorded. You're blind to the part that defines you the most because it's drowning in all the parts that come from other people. You can only find it when you start losing things. And you'll only meet it face to face when you lose everything.

      It's like looking at a night sky where all the stars go out one by one, until there's only one star left. You used to think that it was just a faint blinking light among all the other stars. Well now it's the only thing you have left so you start to pay attention to it, you take a closer look and you realize that hey, it's a motherfucking star. It's a thundering deluge of constant themonuclear fusion blasting at full throttle. It's burning harder than you could even imagine and it was always there. It's like an ocean that was inside you all along and you just started hearing the rumble of its crashing waves."

      --God's Gift to Grinds

      Read this, thought of you, Messi. Don't you feel special?

      Now pull your damn head out of your ass, give your friends a funeral, and make some new ones. Lord knows you've got plenty to choose from, with everyone pulling up to hug and/or smack you. It's time to wake up, man.