Post by Elskerinne on Sept 10, 2016 18:43:25 GMT -6
How...
How do you run from that which is inside your head?
It's... a perpetual chase down a neverending, winding road with cliffs on all sides begging... begging you to...
Jump.
How...
How do you escape a nightmare that feeds off of you like an unborn child in the womb. Taking everything, weakening you, with nooo way to get rid of the... parasite. No coat hangar to scrape it out. No, uh... no amount of drinking or drugs to flush it out. Ha...
It won't die.
Ohhh how I wish I could just die.
See... ha, see... they won't... go away. Dreams of being chased by this unknown entity, a shadowed figure, a blackened manifestation of all of the anger and... and horrifying thoughts. My only chance is climbing a tree. Elevation, ya know? Why it can't reach me here... I... don't know.
I don't really know anything.
Except for that which pertains to the masks... drama masks... comedy and tragedy.
Get it?
Because it's funny... life's just a game we're all stuck playing until we die. Along the way our cracked lil playing pieces are fucking cannon fodder to the shiny ones. It's so tragic... it's so hilarious. Isn't it...?
I was recently asked via email, from either a fan or non-fan or someone just trying to get a reaction...
'Why are you so happy?'
Why are we so happy...? Why do we plaster on that stretched out grin, baring our dulled fangs for people to mock and belittle while inside our mind a fire is blazing across every memory and every cruel intention we so desperately force away? Why... do we not sit and sulk in the ash that is our delusion and self-loathing, hating every waking moment we're cursed with? Why... do we not send out invitations to our little pity parties?
Selfishness, really.
The cake is for my eyes only. A sweet, delectable pastry of lost hope and decimated emotional health... smothered in icing made from the blood that once drained from my wrists. Cutting that cake has a whole new meaning now, doesn't it? Ha...
Fact is... I have no reason. Because this shit doesn't fucking come with one. It doesn't come with meaning, or an instruction manual, or any sound logic... it's the most nonsensical bullshit and people ARE PLAYING IT OFF LIKE IT'S A JOKE...
Isn't it, though..?
Heh... isn't it fun? Playing the crazy card? It's good for a chuckle. Crazed laughter, widened and hysterical eyes.
'I hear voices!'
'I have multiple personalities!'
'I slit my wrists in front of a live studio audience!'
Next time on: Whackjobs of Wrassling... we see a young woman showcasing her so-called 'depression' in front of thousands! And an absolutely insane man sits in a dimmed, blood-stained room talking to himself! And of course, what will -insert randomly generated loony- do when he finds out that insanity isn't defined by these goddamn societal constructs which force us to either fear or laugh at it?!
...
Yeah. It's... so much fun...
When you're laying in bed wondering why you should even bother getting up...
When you're doing something you enjoy and then stop to wonder if you even deserve to do it...
When you're doing anything and tears just... start to spill out... even if you've been having a good fucking day...
When you're at work and people keep a safe distance, an arm's length at least...
When it's your day off and all you want to do is sleep... because that for many is an escape from reality...
When you're driving in your car and debate veering off the road, hoping you get some kind of head injury and forget everything... who you are... what you are...
When you have thoughts... the sharpened, crimson, glistening gears in your mind violently turning in reverse and all you see is things that make your stomach churn and heart ache because you don't really want to hurt yourself or someone else, but you've got that shadow overtaking your brain and whispering...
'What do you have to lose, but your mind?'
You scream and scream for it to stop but truth is? It's not an actual voice, it's not an actual manifestation...
It's you.
Insanity... is when you look... so normal... even happy... on the outside. Maybe a little unkempt. Maybe a glint of lunacy in your eye. But it's when you say... 'I have this'... and others go: 'I would've never guessed'. It's when people pass you by without a second thought... not knowing of the disaster you're in; not knowing that you're a ticking... time bomb. We hear it all the time, after all...
'He was such a good kid'
'She seemed so happy'
'Where did they change?'
But they didn't.
It's just... not... evident.
It's... a demon only we can see...
...
So... what mask do I wear today?
I wondered this as I held up a black shirt with a single, rainbow colored sheep on it. I was staring into the mirror at a scarred body now marked with ink to hide the past and exemplify the hearts of those who drew on my fair skin. There were bags under my eyes, a pained expression painted on my face... but I hid it well; placing a slightly manic grin across my lips.
Play the part... right?
Insanity is overrated... we see it everywhere; in everyone. It's intriguing to many... frightening to few... and a way of life to even less. In fact, it's usually not real at all. So upon that realization... I decided to exaggerate my reality; to prove a point. To stand for those who are not insane... but simply...
Mad.
Putting on a show... entertaining others... taking out a fucking staple gun and forcing that smile onto your face!!! Because... it keeps the demons at bay. Positivity... elevation? It... it keeps me safe...
That last word caused a tear to sneak it's way down my cheek, and I frantically rubbed it away, staring... frozen... into fear-laden eyes. My reflection told a tragic story... but my heart was forcing in comedy.
"Laugh." I whispered aloud, closing my eyes and breathing in...
Laugh away the pain. Laugh the skeletons all the way back into your closet and laugh those demons back to Hell. A smile can spell death to those thoughts, min venn. And the smiles of others will keep them dead.
'Why are you so happy?'
I let out that breath, eyes still closed.
It's my medicine. It's my safe haven. It's... what's keeping me alive. And I have to keep it in a white-knuckled grip... never lose hold... never lose control. And these costumes... this... persona... is my control. My power. This mask I wear... is my sanity... against insanity. When those fuckers... people... those people... in my past called me crazy. When I was an outcast because they thought I'd snap. When I was emotionally curbstomped again... and again... pushed away, given sideways glances, pills and therapy force-fed to me while I was being called... in... insane...
I thought...
Let's give them what they want.
Because I realize now, they can be Alice... and I'LL be the Mad Hatter; an embodiment of overcoming social torture by using what they've thrown at me. Pick them up and toss them down the rabbit hole so they can experience an outward example of exactly what is inside our minds.
I am... the Sirkusdirektør; in charge of the evil clowns and corrupt carnies that have a vice grip on so many. So grab me my whip and my little top hat, a cup of spiked coffee and my Cheshire cats. Cuz some bring chaos, some offer peace-- order versus disorder. Good... versus naughty?
Now that's no fun.
Pleading for a middle ground? A blend of madness both good and bad? Disenchanted with reality... that a faux insanity might just break down that wall? Look no further, Alice, for I'll be the friend you never knew you wanted! I'll be the playing piece that moves across the board backwards and upside down! I'll be the mask that you're forced to wear... and I... when those miserable fucking feelings have blinded you and ripped away your joy... I...
Will be your Vision... and your smile.
How do you run from that which is inside your head?
It's... a perpetual chase down a neverending, winding road with cliffs on all sides begging... begging you to...
Jump.
How...
How do you escape a nightmare that feeds off of you like an unborn child in the womb. Taking everything, weakening you, with nooo way to get rid of the... parasite. No coat hangar to scrape it out. No, uh... no amount of drinking or drugs to flush it out. Ha...
It won't die.
Ohhh how I wish I could just die.
See... ha, see... they won't... go away. Dreams of being chased by this unknown entity, a shadowed figure, a blackened manifestation of all of the anger and... and horrifying thoughts. My only chance is climbing a tree. Elevation, ya know? Why it can't reach me here... I... don't know.
I don't really know anything.
Except for that which pertains to the masks... drama masks... comedy and tragedy.
Get it?
Because it's funny... life's just a game we're all stuck playing until we die. Along the way our cracked lil playing pieces are fucking cannon fodder to the shiny ones. It's so tragic... it's so hilarious. Isn't it...?
I was recently asked via email, from either a fan or non-fan or someone just trying to get a reaction...
'Why are you so happy?'
Why are we so happy...? Why do we plaster on that stretched out grin, baring our dulled fangs for people to mock and belittle while inside our mind a fire is blazing across every memory and every cruel intention we so desperately force away? Why... do we not sit and sulk in the ash that is our delusion and self-loathing, hating every waking moment we're cursed with? Why... do we not send out invitations to our little pity parties?
Selfishness, really.
The cake is for my eyes only. A sweet, delectable pastry of lost hope and decimated emotional health... smothered in icing made from the blood that once drained from my wrists. Cutting that cake has a whole new meaning now, doesn't it? Ha...
Fact is... I have no reason. Because this shit doesn't fucking come with one. It doesn't come with meaning, or an instruction manual, or any sound logic... it's the most nonsensical bullshit and people ARE PLAYING IT OFF LIKE IT'S A JOKE...
Isn't it, though..?
Heh... isn't it fun? Playing the crazy card? It's good for a chuckle. Crazed laughter, widened and hysterical eyes.
'I hear voices!'
'I have multiple personalities!'
'I slit my wrists in front of a live studio audience!'
Next time on: Whackjobs of Wrassling... we see a young woman showcasing her so-called 'depression' in front of thousands! And an absolutely insane man sits in a dimmed, blood-stained room talking to himself! And of course, what will -insert randomly generated loony- do when he finds out that insanity isn't defined by these goddamn societal constructs which force us to either fear or laugh at it?!
...
Yeah. It's... so much fun...
When you're laying in bed wondering why you should even bother getting up...
When you're doing something you enjoy and then stop to wonder if you even deserve to do it...
When you're doing anything and tears just... start to spill out... even if you've been having a good fucking day...
When you're at work and people keep a safe distance, an arm's length at least...
When it's your day off and all you want to do is sleep... because that for many is an escape from reality...
When you're driving in your car and debate veering off the road, hoping you get some kind of head injury and forget everything... who you are... what you are...
When you have thoughts... the sharpened, crimson, glistening gears in your mind violently turning in reverse and all you see is things that make your stomach churn and heart ache because you don't really want to hurt yourself or someone else, but you've got that shadow overtaking your brain and whispering...
'What do you have to lose, but your mind?'
You scream and scream for it to stop but truth is? It's not an actual voice, it's not an actual manifestation...
It's you.
Insanity... is when you look... so normal... even happy... on the outside. Maybe a little unkempt. Maybe a glint of lunacy in your eye. But it's when you say... 'I have this'... and others go: 'I would've never guessed'. It's when people pass you by without a second thought... not knowing of the disaster you're in; not knowing that you're a ticking... time bomb. We hear it all the time, after all...
'He was such a good kid'
'She seemed so happy'
'Where did they change?'
But they didn't.
It's just... not... evident.
It's... a demon only we can see...
...
So... what mask do I wear today?
I wondered this as I held up a black shirt with a single, rainbow colored sheep on it. I was staring into the mirror at a scarred body now marked with ink to hide the past and exemplify the hearts of those who drew on my fair skin. There were bags under my eyes, a pained expression painted on my face... but I hid it well; placing a slightly manic grin across my lips.
Play the part... right?
Insanity is overrated... we see it everywhere; in everyone. It's intriguing to many... frightening to few... and a way of life to even less. In fact, it's usually not real at all. So upon that realization... I decided to exaggerate my reality; to prove a point. To stand for those who are not insane... but simply...
Mad.
Putting on a show... entertaining others... taking out a fucking staple gun and forcing that smile onto your face!!! Because... it keeps the demons at bay. Positivity... elevation? It... it keeps me safe...
That last word caused a tear to sneak it's way down my cheek, and I frantically rubbed it away, staring... frozen... into fear-laden eyes. My reflection told a tragic story... but my heart was forcing in comedy.
"Laugh." I whispered aloud, closing my eyes and breathing in...
Laugh away the pain. Laugh the skeletons all the way back into your closet and laugh those demons back to Hell. A smile can spell death to those thoughts, min venn. And the smiles of others will keep them dead.
'Why are you so happy?'
I let out that breath, eyes still closed.
It's my medicine. It's my safe haven. It's... what's keeping me alive. And I have to keep it in a white-knuckled grip... never lose hold... never lose control. And these costumes... this... persona... is my control. My power. This mask I wear... is my sanity... against insanity. When those fuckers... people... those people... in my past called me crazy. When I was an outcast because they thought I'd snap. When I was emotionally curbstomped again... and again... pushed away, given sideways glances, pills and therapy force-fed to me while I was being called... in... insane...
I thought...
Let's give them what they want.
Because I realize now, they can be Alice... and I'LL be the Mad Hatter; an embodiment of overcoming social torture by using what they've thrown at me. Pick them up and toss them down the rabbit hole so they can experience an outward example of exactly what is inside our minds.
I am... the Sirkusdirektør; in charge of the evil clowns and corrupt carnies that have a vice grip on so many. So grab me my whip and my little top hat, a cup of spiked coffee and my Cheshire cats. Cuz some bring chaos, some offer peace-- order versus disorder. Good... versus naughty?
Now that's no fun.
Pleading for a middle ground? A blend of madness both good and bad? Disenchanted with reality... that a faux insanity might just break down that wall? Look no further, Alice, for I'll be the friend you never knew you wanted! I'll be the playing piece that moves across the board backwards and upside down! I'll be the mask that you're forced to wear... and I... when those miserable fucking feelings have blinded you and ripped away your joy... I...
Will be your Vision... and your smile.
