Spoiler
It was a evening in February; around 6 PM if I recall correctly. The sun had made its final departure beneath the cold horizon. It was snowing in an ethereal way, as if to bring a staggering chill to the outside world.
Of course, that was all outside my window, as I never left my place on the little world I had created for myself. I sat on my chair, frustrated, and typing as if there was no tomorrow. I was at my wits end, and the anger was spilling into the text that I spoke. I opened the damned program. I was to send a final message to my kith and kin. My departure.
"Stop neglecting. Don't shake me, don't wake me, JUST HOLD ME."
My naive brain was flooding with emotions and information I had never perceived before. I was revolting, I was waking up from the dream I had of friendship, and into a stream of negatives and paradoxical realities. I was entering my personal hell.
I opened the profile of one of the favorites, with his dog persona splattered on the page. A tear streamed down my face.
"You can find a new vocalist for that song... because I'm out," I typed.
I clearly remember him, without even responding to the message, showing his emotion. He was a withered flower, and it all was my fault. It was but a few moments after sending that final message before I noticed how evil I really was.
"Oh no, no no no. This can't be. This isn't how it was supposed to end," I thought.
Tears streamed down my face as I clicked into each profile. This guy; deleted. That guy; deleted. My sorrow was hitting my heart like a drum during those moments. You see, I had given into the darkness in my very soul; the ice in my heart that shattered the brightest coloured roses and dented the faces that i only remember now as blurs. I was in a world of my own, taking out the greed in the form of messages to my kith and kin that are now dead in my eyes.
After the awful deed was finished, and it all had burned. I was dead myself. I recall lying down on my bed, sobbing. There was a moment of silence in the room. As the light from underneath my bedroom door faded and with it my strength.
I went to sleep early that night. I didn't want to wake up.
Of course, that was all outside my window, as I never left my place on the little world I had created for myself. I sat on my chair, frustrated, and typing as if there was no tomorrow. I was at my wits end, and the anger was spilling into the text that I spoke. I opened the damned program. I was to send a final message to my kith and kin. My departure.
"Stop neglecting. Don't shake me, don't wake me, JUST HOLD ME."
My naive brain was flooding with emotions and information I had never perceived before. I was revolting, I was waking up from the dream I had of friendship, and into a stream of negatives and paradoxical realities. I was entering my personal hell.
I opened the profile of one of the favorites, with his dog persona splattered on the page. A tear streamed down my face.
"You can find a new vocalist for that song... because I'm out," I typed.
I clearly remember him, without even responding to the message, showing his emotion. He was a withered flower, and it all was my fault. It was but a few moments after sending that final message before I noticed how evil I really was.
"Oh no, no no no. This can't be. This isn't how it was supposed to end," I thought.
Tears streamed down my face as I clicked into each profile. This guy; deleted. That guy; deleted. My sorrow was hitting my heart like a drum during those moments. You see, I had given into the darkness in my very soul; the ice in my heart that shattered the brightest coloured roses and dented the faces that i only remember now as blurs. I was in a world of my own, taking out the greed in the form of messages to my kith and kin that are now dead in my eyes.
After the awful deed was finished, and it all had burned. I was dead myself. I recall lying down on my bed, sobbing. There was a moment of silence in the room. As the light from underneath my bedroom door faded and with it my strength.
I went to sleep early that night. I didn't want to wake up.
Spoiler
It's funny how connected you get to the people you never meet. One day you met on a nearly dead game, and after years you just considered yourselves best friends even though you are on opposite ends of the universe. It's strange to think that people I met online have wiped away more tears than people I know in real life. More than people that I can actually physically hold in my arms.
The first week after the incident left me emotionally scarred in a way I will never heal from. My heart was broken, and I just felt empty on the inside. To be honest, I think of myself as a completely different person now. My life was changed drastically, and more than you might think.
The first day I woke up to a stuffy nose from the night before. It was odd, as I didn't think at all that entire morning. I mean I came downstairs to drink some coffee and have some breakfast, but I didn't feel anything. It was a limbo I wish I had stayed in this whole time.
After eating, I recall logging into my computer and going into my web browser. I almost clicked on that forum site I always did this time of day, but I caught myself. That was against the rules I set myself.
It was very odd, as you may tell. In one night, I had changed my daily routine by a long shot. I had nothing to do, nothing to feel. My day had ended just as it began.
The whole day was a blur. All I remember doing was watching some movies, and periodically catching myself trying to connect with my used-to-be friends. The whole week was like this. I sat in my chair and soaked up my time masking over my emotions. Well, until that Sunday.
It was the end to a week of nothing, or so I thought. I woke up as usual, and sat in that damned chair, but this time it was different. I felt something. I remembered the sins I had committed.
It was so... melancholic. I couldn't even cry, my eyes were tired of expressing themselves. And so I sat in my chair, thinking about my terrible life. I just sat there, looking up at the ceiling all day. At some points I napped; other times I didn't. It was as if my brain was hoping for someone to add me back, for someone to acknowledge that I existed, and that I was real.
Of course, nothing came.
The first week after the incident left me emotionally scarred in a way I will never heal from. My heart was broken, and I just felt empty on the inside. To be honest, I think of myself as a completely different person now. My life was changed drastically, and more than you might think.
The first day I woke up to a stuffy nose from the night before. It was odd, as I didn't think at all that entire morning. I mean I came downstairs to drink some coffee and have some breakfast, but I didn't feel anything. It was a limbo I wish I had stayed in this whole time.
After eating, I recall logging into my computer and going into my web browser. I almost clicked on that forum site I always did this time of day, but I caught myself. That was against the rules I set myself.
It was very odd, as you may tell. In one night, I had changed my daily routine by a long shot. I had nothing to do, nothing to feel. My day had ended just as it began.
The whole day was a blur. All I remember doing was watching some movies, and periodically catching myself trying to connect with my used-to-be friends. The whole week was like this. I sat in my chair and soaked up my time masking over my emotions. Well, until that Sunday.
It was the end to a week of nothing, or so I thought. I woke up as usual, and sat in that damned chair, but this time it was different. I felt something. I remembered the sins I had committed.
It was so... melancholic. I couldn't even cry, my eyes were tired of expressing themselves. And so I sat in my chair, thinking about my terrible life. I just sat there, looking up at the ceiling all day. At some points I napped; other times I didn't. It was as if my brain was hoping for someone to add me back, for someone to acknowledge that I existed, and that I was real.
Of course, nothing came.
Spoiler
The bus saved me, I think. Every morning I would go onto the bus to listen to music and to get away from reality. It was the only place I could think without being interrupted by my depression. I guess you could call it a signal for hope. I would think about my actual life. I'd think about my school work, and girls that I liked, and the usual topics in a teenager's mind. I'd ponder my existence in the universe. It was truly the only place where I merely existed; just as a blur.
Or perhaps it was the piano. Every afternoon, I would play my icy heart into the ground. It calmed me. The piano was a muse to my sick body. I created songs to describe my feelings, and the piano listened, and held me. It wasn't my fingers pushing on the keys. It wasn't my weary eyes glued to the thought of actual love in this world. It was the piano. Piano illuminated me. Piano played me. When I was sad, the piano would play me to be happy.
Even so, I was lonely. The chill of the morning dew was agony to experience. I just wanted to fall asleep and never come back. Time was a constant cycle of feeling and not feeling. I didn't matter.
The blessings were numbered, and I slept a lot. I literally felt sick all the time. It was a damned pathogen of my inner thoughts.
I thought of the wolf that was also a musician. I thought of a man who impersonated another. I though of a master of the arts, and swords! I thought of the people that made me who I am.
Is that what love is?
I would remember memories of chatting to one another, cracking jokes over the rainy night sky which now seemed to be the only joke. The sky was a joke. The world was a joke. I was a joke. I was a clown.
Or perhaps it was the piano. Every afternoon, I would play my icy heart into the ground. It calmed me. The piano was a muse to my sick body. I created songs to describe my feelings, and the piano listened, and held me. It wasn't my fingers pushing on the keys. It wasn't my weary eyes glued to the thought of actual love in this world. It was the piano. Piano illuminated me. Piano played me. When I was sad, the piano would play me to be happy.
Even so, I was lonely. The chill of the morning dew was agony to experience. I just wanted to fall asleep and never come back. Time was a constant cycle of feeling and not feeling. I didn't matter.
The blessings were numbered, and I slept a lot. I literally felt sick all the time. It was a damned pathogen of my inner thoughts.
I thought of the wolf that was also a musician. I thought of a man who impersonated another. I though of a master of the arts, and swords! I thought of the people that made me who I am.
Is that what love is?
I would remember memories of chatting to one another, cracking jokes over the rainy night sky which now seemed to be the only joke. The sky was a joke. The world was a joke. I was a joke. I was a clown.
Spoiler
Last week, I decided to check the forum I used to go to. I decided to sign out before entering, though, as I didn't want people knowing that the abomination of a man was alive and well. Honestly, I never felt any more mundane. I searched around the forums, and noticed that not much had changed. That was, until I came upon a thread one of my former best friends created.
In it was the details of how a creative direction team should be set up to further the process of recovering that dying game I mentioned earlier. I started to read, and noticed that my name had been replaced with an empty slot.
"Some other musician."
I realized I was being forgotten. Nobody cared anymore. Nobody saw me when they saw my profile picture; they saw someone else. I wasn't the man I used to be. I was some other, more broken person.
My tear ducts finally opened a bit. I was able to feel. This time, though, it was a cry of relief. The rest of the week was relatively easy. I wasn't feeling as sick, and I felt a tad bit more stable.
And so today I decided to post a reply to one of my old threads. Immediately, someone responded to this anomaly with a simple message.
"What, you're alive?"
I was being acknowledged by a brother. An old friend.
In it was the details of how a creative direction team should be set up to further the process of recovering that dying game I mentioned earlier. I started to read, and noticed that my name had been replaced with an empty slot.
"Some other musician."
I realized I was being forgotten. Nobody cared anymore. Nobody saw me when they saw my profile picture; they saw someone else. I wasn't the man I used to be. I was some other, more broken person.
My tear ducts finally opened a bit. I was able to feel. This time, though, it was a cry of relief. The rest of the week was relatively easy. I wasn't feeling as sick, and I felt a tad bit more stable.
And so today I decided to post a reply to one of my old threads. Immediately, someone responded to this anomaly with a simple message.
"What, you're alive?"
I was being acknowledged by a brother. An old friend.
Spoiler
Later this afternoon, I was contacted by one of my friends on the old program we chatted on.
He asked me whether I wanted to be in part of the group again. And so I responded:
"I feel exiled. If I come back, I'll feel unaccepted. I'll lose my personal honor of being able to leave, to run away from the illusion of friends. For now, I'm just a shadow, watching over the community. It's just whenever I think about it my mind gets flooded with soul shattering emotions. I cried that night. I sat down after it all, while deleting my kith and kin off of my contacts and bawled.
The day after it happened, my life was different. I kept on catching myself trying to go back to the forum. Clicking on peoples profiles and putting in a text before deleting it, almost adding someone before realizing that I shouldn't; those sort of things.
I'll have to think about it."
And now I sit on my damned chair, thinking about it.
He asked me whether I wanted to be in part of the group again. And so I responded:
"I feel exiled. If I come back, I'll feel unaccepted. I'll lose my personal honor of being able to leave, to run away from the illusion of friends. For now, I'm just a shadow, watching over the community. It's just whenever I think about it my mind gets flooded with soul shattering emotions. I cried that night. I sat down after it all, while deleting my kith and kin off of my contacts and bawled.
The day after it happened, my life was different. I kept on catching myself trying to go back to the forum. Clicking on peoples profiles and putting in a text before deleting it, almost adding someone before realizing that I shouldn't; those sort of things.
I'll have to think about it."
And now I sit on my damned chair, thinking about it.