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Endless vortex

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~~Though I may be in the wrong place, there simply may not be a place for me. That said, If this post needs to move or whatever, I have no problem with that. I am a creature that lives on the edge of society, watching. I am not sure what it is that I am looking for, but still I watch. Like a child, rejected from a group of friends, watches said friends play together. Are you picturing the stereotypical person pressing against the fence for a better view? Hmm.
~~I watch, analyze, wonder... but I cannot join in. Actually, that's not quite true. I DO join into society, in all of its 'acceptable' forms. I join in, but do not participate. It is a ruse; a facade; a false front. I am not true to my nature when I deal with others. That is most likely because I cannot understand my own nature.
~~I love. I hate. I want to help, I want to hurt. What separates me from you, however, is that I feel all of this at the same time. How is it possible to feel deep, yearning love, and absolute hate and disgust over the same thing? I WANT to love, to help, to benefit mankind, but I also want to hurt, to destroy, to rebel against goodwill. How is it that I can look at a man that I have known for a long time, and love them, trust them, respect them, and fantasize about 9 different ways to kill/mangle their body with whatever happens to be nearby? (A pen-cap, for instance) I do not act on this, but then, I do not act on my goodwill, either.
~~My life, my mind, my soul- it is a paradox. Nothing but conflictions. I know that I can do so much, that I can be so much... but it is in either direction. I could be the man that cures cancer- or the next serial killer. So, I have adopted a life of distance- I follow neither path, as any attempt to follow one path leads to self-hate and depression brought on by the other path. My emotions are muted, my actions aren't real- I force myself into whatever role society would have me fulfill. Now it is hard to tell if what I think is genuine or not. When I laugh, do I do so because something's funny? Or, have I become so good at tricking people into believing I am what I appear to be, that I have begun to trick myself?
~~~~If this post does not belong, so be it. I'm sure the admin will stop it long before it's posted, if that be the case. I do not know what I am looking for. I just know that I look deep into a swirling vortex, where answers, and reality, blurs.


Forum Buddy & Antiquities Friend
Welcome to the forums.. It sounds like you have a little personality disorder going on.. I'm not a doctor but I suffer from it also..The only awnser I have is to seek professional help.. You can't fight this alone...My meds have helped with mine..


Staff Alumni
Hi and welcome...your post reminds me of my of my favorite theories, the chaos theory, as I live in the dichotomies, as you do...I wonder if it is more common than we think? In any case, welcome and please continue to tell us what is going on for you...J
~~~~Re: Stranger1, I am getting help. However, it is, and has, taken far longer than it should. I first saw a psychologist in early 2008, but we never clicked, I hid my nature, and that ended as quickly as it began. Around October of 2010, in crisis, I was basically ordered to find a psychologist, but took the burden upon myself, and failed. Only in the last month or two has this issue been revisited, due to a freak circumstance that proved to be rather helpful. I met a psychologist over a video-game's chat function. While they would not treat me, as I was not their patient, they talked with me, and urged me to seek help. This was a month or two ago, and it is only in April that I will receive a psych evaluation. Over the course of this gap (from the first therapist) my overall symptoms (especially depression) have gradually worsened, and a new one formed. More on that later.
~~~~Re: Sadeyes, I find your description interesting. I can find no use of "dichotomies" in any psychological sense, and there is a possibility that I have over-simplified my dilemma to include only two clear-cut divisions. I cannot always distinguish between the differing 'sides' of my personality, though I have come up with an interesting theory, at one point, that actually splits my mind into three, distinct ... what word am I looking for ... personas. This theory actually led to my little 'crisis' to be honest. At one point in my life, (around the months leading up to October, actually) I began to feel that I had two alternate personas trying to take control... oops, getting ahead of myself again. Mental note: talk about personas and symptoms.

~~My first day here was good. I have found that all sides of myself can exist here without judgement or ridicule. I have helped others, and I have shown my darkest sides, albeit only a little, so far. Often I find that if I try to follow my calling to be helpful and kind, I hate myself for doing so much evil. Also, if I try to follow my calling to be hurtful and mean, I hate myself for being so nice. I have had issues with self hate for a very long time, and I believe that fuels my personality issues. There could be other factors, but I think that is the main issue.
~~Well, I think I will share my story. I suppose I may find some benefit in this. Maybe, at the very least, it will polish my story for my eval in April. Well, whatever happens, happens, I suppose. I will say up front that, like all stories here, it is not a happy one. But it could bring up some severe reactions from people with certain histories, so be warned. I may remind you of trauma in your life, or the good parts of my life may differ greatly from yours. Either way, you may become angry, sad, jealous, or any number of things. Still, do not compare our lives too much. I am not, and you are not, here to brag about how bad your life is. Remember that.

~~~~On to the story, then. Right. Well, let us begin with my mother. Specifically, when she was 17 or so. She was diagnosed a manic depressant schizophrenic. A powerful sentence, to be sure. (Still, from a quick selfish side-note, that leaves me with at a minimum 10% chance to develop schizophrenia, with a higher chance to develop other psychological issues, and that is in a world without any traumatic events taking place for me. just saying.)So, with this diagnosis in mind, it should come as no surprise to anyone that she was hospitalized a few times for this reason, became a dedicated cutter, and had some 'fun' issues to deal with. Not many people are afraid of heights because they fear that they will try to throw themselves off.

~~~~Despite these issues, she met my father (a few times, actually) and they fell in love. Dad, however, had to turn down a marriage proposal from her (could be the other way... i'm not sure) because he joined the military. On his return, they married. Dad knew about her issues, and helped her through them. Still, he was very upset that mom went from doctor to doctor, and each one said something different, gave her something different, etc. As is the usual case, some things helped, others didn't, blah blah blagh. We all know a similar story. But, I am rambling now. With a look at her life, we see a host of issues coming, but there is one thing no one could see or expect. (all these cliffhangers must be annoying... i'm sorry about that. this one is short, I promise)

~~~~So, deeply, eternally in love, mom & dad had the stereotypical 2 kids, a girl and a guy. Yay yay perfect, happy family- as long as her issues remained hidden from us. In case you're wondering, she had visual and audio hallucinations, usually of people in the room (that weren't there, of course) But she also probably had paranoid schizo, as well. Now then, to end the more recent cliffhanger, when I was about 5 or so, she developed something totally different from schizophrenia: Cancer. That ugly little word. She had breast cancer first, and they operated. She was 'cured'. I was too young to know what any of it meant. A year or two later, it came back. I think the second time was her lungs, and chemo commenced. (Chemical-based therapy that devastates you body, especially its energy levels) By now, I had a faint clue what it meant, and it was either here, or the third round (cured, wait, it's back again, cured, repeat) that I realized what it meant. I lived for 9 years (minus however long it took me to understand) not knowing if my mother would wake up with me. On top of that, she was constantly weakened from the chemo and radiation treatments. Yes, she occasionally lost her hair. That is actually rather insignificant to me, however, as the fact that she lived primarily on a couch made a bigger impact. She simply had no energy, ever. Except between rounds, however, where she would do better for some time. Oh, and she was asthmatic, which dropped her energy further.

~~~So, we now know my mother. We now know my trauma. Well, most of it. That was life until late 2007 or early 2008. That was when the doctors gave up. They gave mom her death sentence: go home and get comfortable. In her last year, we bought a hospital bed, which we put in the living-room. She got access to Hospice, so someone was always there for her. And she got morphine. She walked, at first. Then she limped. Then she got a walker. Then a wheelchair. Then she couldn't leave the bed. She had pills of morphine, but couldn't always remember of she took them or not. Once, she OD'ed. Have you ever watched your mom unable to even look at you for a few seconds before looking away, dazed, unable to talk, think, understand, or function? That is not easy to watch. Ever. But, then again, neither is watching her slowly, painfully, die.

~~~~After that, they gave her a constant morphine IV. Always on her, a box pumped her full of pain meds continuously. It was great for her, except that the doses had to keep going up. Exponentially. Near the end, it maxed out. Now for the really fun part: Thanksgiving, 2008. Everything was 'normal' (Mom's asleep on her hospital bed, Dad's cooking turkey, etc) until she woke up. Now, for whatever reason, she dreamed about her family. Dying. Or getting maimed, it didn't matter. Either way, every 20 minutes or so, she woke up screaming, and wouldn't stop until she saw that the particular member of the family was not, in fact, dead. That was Thanksgiving. That night, as far as I am concerned, was the night she died. Her official date is December 2, 2008. (On a Tuesday, at 5:22 a.m. if you're curious- lots of 2's in there) But that night, her pain became so great, that she could not stop screaming. I woke up to it, with an ambulance on the way. My grandfather tried to hold her hand to ease her pain; she screamed louder. They took her to the hospital at 2 or so in the morning. The next week was pretty much her getting stronger and stronger pain meds to knock her out. By then, her resistance was so high, that they had to eventually give her a narcotic that was not allowed to leave the building due to it's power. She became a husk, a barely breathing shell. And then, her body stopped trying to fight.

~~~~Well, now you know her story, my trauma, and the beginning of my tale. It is a long beginning, to be sure, so I will continue my story another time, but following my tale instead. Mental note: talk about personas and symptoms.
Well, I apologize for the super-long posts, but fitting2 1/2 lifetimes into a small space is rather difficult. As for right now, I can't sleep, so I guess I'll finish up the story.
~~~Right, so we covered mom. We now know what main source of distress has affected my life. Now, though, things become more difficult to explain. I'm not sure just how much I understand, but let us try to make sense of it anyways.
~~~When your mom is slowly dying, you don't grow up 'normally'. I got the rare opportunity to grow up early on; I had to, to cope with the stress, and to help mom. It is certainly worth mentioning that she was the nicest, most loving person I have ever met, and that is not an exaggeration. I know of exactly zero people that had anything against my mother. But, she died. Well, with my early maturation (mentally) I was able to watch everyone else. I saw them as they grew up. Some still haven't, but the others embarked on a remarkable journey through childhood to adolescence. By all means, I should have been right there with them. But I watched, analyzed, and understood, all from a distance. People liked me, but they didn't want to hang out with me, because I was too different. Besides, I knew most of them better than they knew themselves. Maybe they could sense that, to some degree or another.

~~~I had few issues that were visible growing up. I bottled everything away, and learned early on how to put up a false front. I became an exceptional lier, mostly so that I could fool mom into believing I was OK. After all, she didn't need to worry about me on top of all of her problems. But anyways, the funny thing is, when she died, I didn't feel different. I shed 7 tears, got chocked up when I spoke at her wake, and then felt as I always had. There was no void, no emptiness, no pain- my mother died, and I didn't care. At that point, I shunned reality, and developed some pronounced depression. Not due to mom's death, but self-hate. I was never good enough for myself, partly because of my conflictions in thought and emotion. So, I read. I escaped reality through the miracles of books. Now, one might say reading is healthy. But, I only read in school. During school. During class, actually. I read 800 page books every week, during the time I should have been working. I failed classes because of that, and when my father and the guidance department finally caught on with that, they set me up with a therapist.

~~~~As therapists go, he was nice. However, he was too nice. I am fairly sure he lived a perfect life, so he couldn't relate to me. Around that time, I felt like cutting. For whatever reason, I couldn't. Still, I craved the pain, and turned to air-soft. I won't elaborate. It was brought up in sessions, we talked, etc. But, by now, I had a very strong false front. And I didn't let it down, not for him. So, we went nowhere, and after a while, I left. We only spent a few months together. Then, it was summer break. No stress, no problems, etc. Lucky me. When I got back to school, my depression became worse, and I had developed a new symptom. (mental note #1) I found myself occasionally becoming detached from my past. (actually, I lied: there are 2 new symptoms) I could tell that something had happened in my past, but I felt no connection with those occurrences. I had no emotional attachment to any of it. It was like I was drifting through life in a thick fog. At one point, even seconds previous were lost in the fog. Time was meaningless, and 10 years was the same time as 10 seconds.

~~~~The other thing is the compulsions. I have settled on this name, as it is as close as I can come to describing them. You see, I occasionally experience something... strange. Take the primal urge to breath you feel if you are underwater too long, and combine it with a total lack of connection; there are no emotions or thoughts attached, just it happening. It is always from a third-person perspective, and usually involves me jumping out of a moving vehicle, or stabbing someone. Not out of hate, depression, or anything recognizable as a motivation. It is just, happening. Maybe that's how mom felt with heights.

~~One more mental note resolved, and that should do it. The personas. At one point, when my depression and self-hate was especially sever, I realized something. Maybe it was just at that time, maybe it is continuous, but I have 2 other personas trying to take control. I call them "He" and "It". "He" is so called because it is purely evil, and desperately wants to hurt anyone, and everyone, for the sake of enjoying their pain. "He" is a monster, and if I ever were to let him loose, I would quickly find myself in jail, with blood on my hands, I'm sure. Despite this, I am not as afraid of "He" as I am of "It". "It" is.... terrifying. "It" still hurts people, but not out of pleasure, or pain, or any feeling. "It" has no emotions. "It" just hurts, and watches to see the reaction. Less in the way of screams, more in the way of how the body shuts down based on where you stab it. I have wondered if it is a manifestation of watching my mother die so slowly, with no way to help her or stop it, but that is only speculation. Anyway, I keep those two under wraps. I suppose that just leaves me in this crowded mind. What I am, I do not know, but some part of me wants to help, and some part of me wants to hurt, and both parts want at the same time.

~~~I do not know if I will add anything further to this story. That is enough for you to try to grasp who, or what, I am. Still, I have not yet managed that feat, so good luck in that department. Well, I am now officially here. All of me, good and bad, is displayed here at SF. Let us see where it takes me.


Well-Known Member
I honestly am speechless. Your story is...awesome, I suppose - that which inspires awe. First, let me just say I am sorry for your loss, though I'm sure you've heard this countless times before. Second, I would love to talk with you more after speaking with you earlier today, for although my past is not completely similar to yours, I still can relate to some things you speak of. At least, so I think. Even if not, I would love to speak with you, simply to get to know each other more, and perhaps to figure something out in the least. Well... I hope to hear from you more.

Here's to being weird! :)
Well, I have spent some time here now, probably around three days now, and I must say I am rather pleased with this chance to meet new people. That said, I think I should talk about a few of my inner demons, as it were.
****If violence is a trigger for you, stop******
I was going to talk about violence, but I never got to it. It will make sense later. All you need to know it, there is no violence in this post. That will come later.​

Now that that's taken care of, I would like to talk about my thoughts for a bit. Perhaps I shouldn't be, but I would like to. This is a part of me, and this thread is my story, so here it goes.

~~Forgive any repetitions, but I need to refresh my own memory. Heh, and if I don't want to re-read that entire thread just to know where to start, I doubt you will re-read it all to remember what I am talking about. So, the basics; From even before mom died, I have had conflictions in my thoughts. Nope, scratch that, we're going back a little further. Just for a moment, probably. I'd promise, but I don't really know, and I like to keep my promises. Besides, I could start rambling again, which gives me another idea to talk about.......
~~~~Right. Ok. Let's go to... 2nd grade. Yes, that's appropriate. You see, it was here that I told my first lie. No, not my absolute first lie, but definitely my first, real, conscious decision to lie for my own benefit. You see, we had a journal thing we were supposed to write in before recess. We also were given clay to play with for when we were done with an assignment. I am of the creative, 'feelings stay inside' type, so I obviously preferred the clay. So, for a few days, I ditched the writing, and went straight to the clay. Not particularly evil or anything, but it is 2nd grade. Anyways, I remember very well the day I got caught. We've all been caught out on a lie before, and felt that dropping stomach, the nervousness, etc. It was like that. I was still too young to reach around every concept, so when I simply hadn't turned the assignment in, I thought little of it. But then, I was caught.

~~That day, I had created an impressive piece of art out of my clay. No sarcasm, I really did. I made a freakin' baseball field, complete with a full team and everything. I actually played the game, too, moving all the little models. And then, I was caught. The teacher wanted to know what I had gotten for a grade; I bs'd an average score (I was young, but not stupid enough to go for gold) Unfortunately, she needed to see it to put it in her grade book. I remember very clearly her losing her temper at me for playing with clay instead of writing (really? Creativity = Bad?) And she TOOK ALL OF MY CLAY AND THREW IT AWAY. I was quite upset by this; enough to remember it forever.

~~Now, you may ask why I mention that story. It's pretty average. Well, I mention it because that was an important thing for me. It led to meeting my first guidance counselor, who helped me discover that I didn't like to focus much. (Not Add-bad, though) but more than that, I hated the feeling I got when I lied. I mean, I REALLY hated it. So, I could do one of two things to not feel that anymore; the normal choice is simply to stop lying. My choice, however unintentional, was to get better at it. Way better. I can lie to your face so well, that I might start to believe me. Now, for a story (I forgot my homework, for instance) that doesn't matter. But now: Now I use that skill for the very emotions I show to people. Sometimes, I can't tell if I laughed because the joke was funny, or because it was the right response at the time. Do you know what that's like? It's very confusing.

~~~~The other thing worth mentioning, as I thought of while planning to write the previous story, is how my mind works, what my thought process is like. The first word i will toss out there, for those that are familiar with the term, is fractal. That's a pretty good description, right there. The thread name also works well. My mind is a beehive of activity, except that my mind is in chaos. (For those that don't know, a beehive, though swarming with bees, is actually very structured) With one topic in my head, I get branches. These branches are all related, in some form or another, to that thought, but they differ from it. If I follow one branch, the same thing happens to that branch: it branches. Sometimes, I follow those branches, and can find a way to relate two things in a way noone else could possibly hope to guess. Hmm... what's a good example... there is a roll of electrical tape on my desk. Thoughts lead to a saxophone. That is a quick one, with only a few branches. I can go further:: from saxophone to the book, The Perfect Storm. How did I get from electrical tape to the perfect storm? Well, ...

~~Electrical tape-it's round, like a ring - like the ring in the post the other day on I-am-bored.com - IAB has a specific emote as it's symbol - SF has an insane number of emotes - there are emotes to the right of this text box - one of them is a SAXOPHONE - I play the sax - I'm in the band at school - the other night, jazz band had eaten a plate full of chicken wings, and were going to (with the director's urgings) leave the plate out as a joke on the regular bands, but the janitors weren't told, and cleaned it up - janitors wear denim, usually - denim is blue - sky - ocean - stormy oceans - THE PERFECT STORM involves stormy oceans.

Now then, that thought process took at most 10 seconds or so. Probably less. When you think like that, you can get distracted easily, no?

~~~Hmm... I haven't gotten to the violent stuff or the conflictions yet, but this post is already long. Ok, then. MENTAL NOTE: violence and conflictions

Sorry, I lied about the Violent warning, thing. I think I'll mention that further up, but I won't take it down, because I refer to that too much.


Well-Known Member
First off, I totally agree - I've never really been on a forum before, but it's really nice to talk to other people and simply relate. It's almost comforting.

I completely understand about lying for emotions. I call it a "plastic smile", personally. Lying really bugs the hell out of me too. The first time I "consciously" lied was to my parents about washing my hands after I came inside from school. I don't even remember how young I was. But all evening, I kept getting worried that I'd contract some un-curable illness, all because I didn't wash my hands. Now I lie everyday. In fact, just a few minutes ago. My friend texted me, "hey, are you okay?" and I said "I'm fine." Complete lie. I'm typing my brains out at the computer trying to keep myself from finding a blade or something that I might hurt myself with (actually, not a blade. Long story...but not this time), since my parents aren't home. Every time I'm home alone I think of suicide. EVERY time. Sorry, getting off track....

Anyway, I love how your brain works. It's really cool, but I'm sure it can get a little irritating from time to time. I have trouble focusing as well, but to a lesser extent. I guess I just don't want to do some forms of work, so my brain thinks of something else. Typical, I know. I'm unfortunately a pretty typical person. (Off topic, AGAIN. Sorry)

The branches you were talking about reminded me about something though. When I have a conversation, something similar to that happens in my mind. We could be talking about something, say... dogs, and suddenly, Oh! I saw this really weird dog at the park yesterday! Oh, I love the park. But it's really cold outside. Did you know, they claim that global warming is causing the cold weather? We're learning about that in science class. Oh, my science teacher is SO mean... etcetera, etcetera. Sometimes, if I have two topics I want to dwell on - say, from being cold outside, I wanted to talk about global warming and some icicle pictures I took the other day - then I would almost "highlight" it in my mind (I guess? Something to bring attention to it...) so that further into the conversation, I would remember to trace back the branches of conversation to remember what I missed. Then that would branch into something else. Soon enough, our conversation, as viewed by my brain, would be a huge tree of ideas, be it lopsided or evenly spread. Just thought I'd share.


Antiquities Friend
I also might be in the wrong place but im so glad to know there are other people here who are going through hard times because im sure you all know its a really lonley place to be. Ive been treated for depression for so many years now and its only very rarely in remission (so to speak) my doctor basically refuses to offer anything other than antidepressants and its now nearly 14 years on im still in the same place well actually worse. I have tried to plaster this false front to myself to hide the fact that im a jibbering wreck underneath its like im a pretendy person and everyone else knows how to be a real person except me. Im so tired of being scared all the time and skipping al the important things i should be doing because i dont have the energy or the will to do them which is what brings me here really. Its got so bad now that for the last month ive really been considering ending it all because i just cant cope with the pressure to keep up with everything. Im so many things to so many people and sooner or later they are going to realise ive let them all down. I tried to tell my family i couldnt cope but i appear to be this strong person (my own fault) so they just kept pilling on the stuff anyway untill i feel like i cant bear it anymore. Im waffling i know anyway thankyou for giving me a place to come and sit in good company xxxx:anony:


Well-Known Member
I read a bit of your story.

At first I thought I related somewhat. I too have always been outside the fence looking in. Watching the people. Seeing them do their things. I don't fit. I don't feel comfortable when I'm with them most of the time. I analyze things too much. My mind is always somewhere else and people I think interpret that as meaning I don't care. And anyway I had a rough childhood: never fit in, no friends most of the time, etc. I hate myself too. I was doing ok until about 10 years ago then I just gave up on life. I haven't done anything to make myself better. I'm not sure whether I hate myself because I'm jealous of what other people have (i'm outside the fence looking in) or because I genuinely feel I suck and am not worth improving.

But then when you got to your mom's problems I couldn't really relate. My mom also died when I was young. Think I was only 8 or 9. I didn't understand what was happening. My mom was unhealthy. She was always on insulin. She even tried to overdose on pills. It wasn't traumatic like your story. For the most part, my mom was ok. She could walk around and do things. Then one day she was putting a puzzle together and the lights went out. Simple as that. Saw my dad carry her body to the car and rush away. I never shed a tear. I just watched it all happen.

I don't have multiple personalities. I've felt down but i've felt up. I don't feel down for random reasons. I feel down when I think about things that make me feel down or when I do things that make me feel down. So I can't really relate to people who feel down for random reasons. I have a difficult time having patience for people who're confused. My sister is that way and has bad psychological issues and basically lives her life on ssi medication.

I don't feel violent impulses. Even though I hate myself I don't imagine killing anything. So I don't relate to you in that respect either. And I didn't grow up fast. It has always been the opposite. I hide from this world every chance I get. I hate myself for it too.

A good review of my present life would be my dreams. I dream mostly about things that happened nearly 20 years ago. In my dreams I'm still in school. I haven't grown up. Then when I wake up I get down because I realize everyone is old and dying and I'm a history footnote.

Some seedlings catch and some don't. I'm one of them that didn't catch, or so far anyway. I often look at life this way. We're like seedlings in the wind or in the water. Or if you watch animals and how things work and sometimes they don't. It's not how I escape from feeling emotions, but it just makes sense to me. There're so many factors in life. So many processes. And it's outside our control sometimes. When things work out, people congratulate themselves or give credit someone else. When things don't, they blame. Always; it's the nature of us. So all we can do sometimes is watch, mostly. And maybe understand a little bit of it before we're killed by something. Death is a certainty. The older you're the more death there is. You come to accept it.
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Re: letmedissapear, I have heard that term, 'plastic smile', before. I am quite good at that. Well, I do wish sometimes that lying still bugged me, because the easier it is, the more you do it. It's natural now.
It's good that you're here, distracting yourself. I think I would like to hear that story sometime. You heard mine, after all. It's only fair that I give you a chance to enthrall me with yours, don't you think?

Re: Shadowgirl, I'm glad that you come here and sit with good company. I haven't been treated for anything yet, but then, I waffle a lot, too. In fact, I can change moods so fast, you can almost hear a 'pop' as the wind rushes in to fill the vortex...

Re: Johnnysays, I hate myself because of the conflictions, which should be in my next post. (I'm going to respond to everyone first, then do my next post) I haven't been treated for anything yet, and maybe I never will. Still, though, I don't really feel down and up, so much. I have a double-wave mood swing, as I like to call it. I have broad, slow moving waves, pretty much regular mild/moderate depression, that last for weeks or months, lazily rolling along, dragging me down to a point. Then, though, I have smaller waves coming off of that, but with a much higher frequency (closer together)
Basically, the large waves determine how much I can move down or up with the smaller waves. Those smaller ones can change my mood in under a minute, from crushing depression, to perfectly fine. That's one thing though: I don't particularly feel happy a lot. I tend to return to a neutral state when the little wave goes up. I can't say that I have ever been manic.

Re: doityourself. Ty. :smile::smile:

Well, would you look at that. Here I was, just trying to respond to the responses before I continue about me, and I turned it into such an opportunity anyways. Well, that's fine. This is still a lot shorter than my next post, which I will write now. Meh, it breaks things up a bit, anyway.
Ok, down to business. This time, I mean it when I say:
I don't know how far I will go, or how much I can say, but here goes.

~~~We have discussed a little bit about how I want to help and hurt, but a little more detail is required. Unfortunately, a day or so has passed since I last wrote, which means it has been several days since my first post, which means my rather poor memory fails to remember just how much has been said already. Oh well.

~~~So, everyone is usually asked, at some point in their lives, what they want to be when they grow up, or where they see themselves in so many years. Here was my list: (some of these are no longer options. I'll explain)
In some branch of the military, as a sniper or medic
Serial killer​

~~Now, that last one isn't exactly a choice profession. Oh yeah, almost forgot: I'm deaf in my left ear due to a birth defect, which disqualifies me from all military service, and kills my ability to locate the origin of a sound, so me in a smoke filled room, with someone crying help? Not great. Or, where are those footsteps? Where is the perp running? I'd stand no chance. That kills the 2nd and 3rd rows of the list (presuming it goes like I think it will)

~~Anyway, the serial killer thing goes more off of the where do you see yourself bit. I have no trouble picturing myself doing that. Actually, a large number of skills/curses I have accumulated are quite beneficial for that: lying, muted emotions/not caring, my alter personas, etc (!!!!I forgot about that in my last post.. hold on)
**** Side note, to jonnysays, I don't really have multiple personalities, as that would imply that they surface from time to time. These personas are both strictly under lock and key.

~~~SO, My posts are getting way more random... no clue why. At all. -I am the type of person that runs 'simulations' in their heads. I think of a scenario, and act it out, usually multiple times, with slightly different scenarios. (I am usually way better at everything in these, like I'm stronger, faster, etc) Now, one could call these scenarios daydreams, or fantasies, I suppose, but I consider them separate from that. Mostly, because these scenarios are just that: they can happen. Some are arguments that I know I'll have, so I might as well plan for to not make things worse. Well, that isn't quite right.

~~~In my argument scenarios, the vast majority include the worst-case scenario. I think that's my way of preparing for the worst, and getting so that if it does happen, I can shrug it off. Ignore it. Not care. Who knows? Maybe it's a survival skill/instinct. There are other scenarios, though, than just arguments. There are times when I help people through a crisis of some sort. There are times when I kill people. There are times, when I do both.

~~~The helping bit is probably mostly normal: wishing you were more important, a better person, yadda yadda. I'm really not concerned that I want to help people. I am concerned that I want to hurt them. Not just hurt their feelings, but destroy their bodies, too. Either these are the embodiment of my personas, or vice-versa, but these fall into 2 categories- I like it, taking perverse pleasure in their blood and life seeping from their bodies, a look of confusion on their faces, while I simply stand there amused. Or, I just kill them. Emotionless. Meaningless. Monstrous. In that, I am just existing, killing, maiming: but, with no purpose, it is so much harder to understand.

~~~Most people think that a serial killer has to be really angry, or take great pleasure in death, but in these scenarios, I know neither. (is this even OK to say?) I stab, they slump, and it doesn't matter. No emotion. No reason. Now I'm just getting repetitive. Well, let's switch to the other, then.

~~~With the other, I kill for pleasure. I don't hate, or fear retribution. I just enjoy watching their pain, or gaining some sort of power over them. Maybe that's all that matters to me. Power. I had none, and so I made my own. Right. Off topic again. Damn, my brain is going too fast. Banana.

What is power? What is real power? I say there are 2 types. There's regular power, which is basic control over some aspect of something in life, and then there's TRUE Power, or real power. that is the ultimate control: the choice between life and death. See, if you make a choice, it affects things. We all know that. But if you kill someone? Every ounce of all the power that person will ever have; every choice they'd make; every life they'd touch; every single thing they could ever control, is now gone. There are now more openings for things to control (house, job, car, material things) as well as lives that will never be altered from their course. There is no greater power, in this world, than ending all power that another holds.

~~ Conversely, there is no greater lack of power than watching someone die. Especially if it is unavoidable. People don't generally kill, not because it's a law, but because they wouldn't be able to live with themselves later, and they know that. They would be taking away someone's life, and eventually, watching them die. Once they reach the point where they realize that there is no going back? That, right there, is where they feel totally helpless. Maybe guilt has some funny things to do with them, but that true helplessness is what scares them the most. Maybe they don't, or won't realize it, but I'm pretty sure that's it.

~~~Obviously, with mom, I saw that coming. I had no power to save her, and I was as helpless as one could be; for 9 years. In that time, I felt a very distinct lack of power, and man is a power-hungry beast. So, I created power, in a sense. I began to control myself. Control is power, so that's what I got. Most people do this when they become teenagers or so- until then, they have no reason to. They know no helplessness, no responsibility, and so they live on. But me? I had to gain control- I matured. I controlled my actions, first. My expressions, second. It all blends together, but it took much longer to control emotions. Thoughts, however, cannot be controlled. I have tried. God I have tried. But, it doesn't work like that. The words, though, are dangerous. If you can control words, you need to control yourself, because those words can control others. They can be so, so very powerful- almost as much as death itself.

Bah, I thought I would only need one more post. Well, one more... again. It should only take one more.... or maybe two. Geeze these posts are long. Sorry about that.
what does it mean to be alive? What is the difference, say, between being alive and simply existing? I know I exist, as I can touch this keyboard. But what of being alive?

Clinically, my heart beats, and my brain functions, so I suppose I am alive, but that mind is just so... questionable.

If I cannot enjoy love, hope, pain, or pleasure, am I alive?

If I cannot recall the things that have made me who and what I am in any form other than a foggy cloud, am I alive?

Can someone who doesn't make a difference in real life possibly be alive themselves? I'm not so sure.

Here, on SF, I am alive. But outside, I'm not sure. Does that count? Can one live only in a virtual world? Can one continue on, knowing that once they leave the imaginary, they become imaginary themselves?
As of your violent sides, I can't help but relate somewhat. Maybe only on some days, but still, I imagine me with the others around me: me with bloody hands and the others dismembered, or something with blood. Sometimes I possess an instrument of destruction, sometimes it is only myself. But this happens every once in a while, and sometimes it scares me. In the middle of class, for instance, my teacher will be going over homework, and a scene like this would come up. Is there anything triggering it? I don't know. Why do I think this way? I know that not either. Perhaps it is just a craving for blood. And yet I care about the people around me, yet I don't... my brain is just messed up.

Concerning being alive... I decided to do some research. I searched on Google "alive definition", to which I've gotten the following results:
"possessing life; full of life and spirit; animated; having life or vigor or spirit." Let's say the "most correct" definitions here are "possessing life; full of life and spirit."

As for "life": "the experience of being alive; the course of human events and activities; the course of existence of an individual; the actions and events that occur in living; animation: the condition of living or the state of being alive," which brings us in circles again. Of course we exist, but the experience of being alive is what we are doubting.

Then, for spirit: "the vital principle or animating force within living things;
a fundamental emotional and activating principle determining one's character; emotional state: the state of a person's emotions." Here we discover something different. If being alive is being "full of life and spirit", then to be alive, one must be full of existence and emotion. Are you of any emotion? For if you were to even exist as a living thing, you must have spirit, for it is "the vital principle."

But then again, that's going by Google.

I think it depends on the person. Personally, I think I'm basically dead. Literally. My friends ask, how are you? Or they text me, Hey, are you there? Any question asking my state of being, and I tell them I'm dead. They laugh, shrug it off, but it's not a joke. I am dead. I show emotion, sometimes even genuine feelings, but I am still dead inside. Not only because I want to be, but because I know that is where I will end. Because no matter what, I try my best not to be alive. I hate this body, I hate this brain, I hate the way my mind perceives this life and reality. I hate it all. So I've died, and all that is left is my shell, with fragments of my Earth-loving self and the motivated in school one. Plus, depending on the days, it grows and shrinks.

I don't know. My mom says it's hormones. I prefer to think otherwise. I need to think otherwise. Because that's all I have.
Letmedisappear, I believe you have hit it on the nose. And no, I am not emotional. I possess only muted emotions, and they last only a brief time. I sometimes question if they are real, or just part of my false front, appearing to satisfy those in front of me.

What is it I want? I want to feel alive. How can one do that? By knowing power.
How does one know power? We discussed this. By taking a life.
But if I do that, "he" will take over, and I will die. But "he" will live.
So, the price of life is death, and the price of death is your life.
And what if I do nothing? Then i am already dead, my life forfeit to death, as death can pay for itself with another's life.

I notice a shift in my posts. I suppose I am beginning one of my downward curves of my depressive waves.... Thus far, my posts have been made in my best moods (mostly neutral) So what now? Do I post the shadow? Or keep it locked away...

I think that may become my signature. "For the price of life is death, but the price of death is your life."
Nah, too triggering.


Well-Known Member
Everything is black:

Death <-> Life

There're things in between.

YOu mention taking another life gives you power. And that by watching someone die unable to stop it you lose any sense of power. But what about the things that're in between? I would think that some power could be felt doing other things. For example, when I do things that generally make me feel productive I feel a bit better about myself. When I don't, the opposite. I just wouldn't want to think that the only way to be happy is to kill other people. There must be a shade of gray in there, not just black and white.

For your sake I hope you can find a sense of control without imagining killing someone.

But if all you're trying to do is tell me life is a bi*** and a living hell then I can agree with that. It's not rainbows and butterflies.
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Johnny, perhaps you have not followed all of my posts, or perhaps I was not particularly clear. In my last post, I was referring to true power, as I had mentioned in an earlier post. If course there are shades of grey, but seeing as how my life is one massive shade of grey, a perpetual neutral, more grey does not seem to alter my position at all.

I have heard that song before. It's not bad.
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