A̷N̶D̶ ̸I̶ ̷L̸I̵K̶E̴ ̸H̷O̷W̷ ̸W̴A̴R̶M̴ ̴T̶H̴E̸ ̷F̷I̵R̵E̶ ̸C̶A̶N̶ ̸B̸E̸ ̶
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We looked inside some of the posts by glitched-ashes and here's what we found interesting.
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Kazakhstan’s Minister of Communications and Informatics has blocked the Tumblr site because it contained 60 sites of terrorism, extremism, and pornography in 2015.
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something genuinely insane about going somewhere and getting to feel “i had some of the worst years of my life here” and “i was loved here, once” simultaneously.
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The usurper is winning.
The usurper is not a person, but a... thing, hellbent on my destruction. It wants to replace me from the inside out, turn me into a cruel mockery of what I once was.
The usurper is the one planting the seeds of twisted thoughts inside my head, and diligently watering them with fear and hate everyday, so that their roots may strangle me. At first I tried uprooting them, but these seeds were sown far and wide and there's just so many of them right now for me to do anything without setting everything ablaze.
The usurper is the one staring at me from the other side of the mirror. It is the reason I cannot look at my reflection, because whenever I try, it's there. Judging me silently, biding it's time until I am the one trapped on the other side of the glass. Sometimes, it stares at me and laughs. It scares me when it does.
The usurper has access to my memories. It likes to bring up the bad ones sometimes, but it absolutely loves bringing up the good ones and reminding me that those times are gone. It's insidious in it's methods, too. It will take songs, words, smells, anything it can; and use them to hurt me. I used to be happy once. That happiness is being weaponized against me.
The usurper can step on my shoes if I'm sufficiently depressed. It knows that the greatest pain it can inflict on me is through hurting others, so it blurs my mind and puppeteers me. I always come back to the aftermath. It's never good.
I threatened the usurper once. I told it that if I off myself, we'll both be gone. No one wins the war if there's no one left to fight it.
It laughed.
It says it doesn't care. It puts a blade on my hands and goads me to do it. It says that if I do it, it will not only extinguish my light forever, but also the lights of those who love me. Other usurpers will spawn and torment them, just like it torments me.
I am no longer slowly losing control of my life. It's picking up speed now and soon I will not be in the driver's seat anymore. I feel alone, I feel afraid, and I'm tempted to give in. But I can't. And yet, I'm incredibly scared.
...Because the usurper is winning.
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Composed, with a puzzling warning sign laughing, smiling, spewing sweet phrases In silence, you'd hear a ticking sound
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Jagged lines carved across my flesh tell the story of my failures.
They tell stories of sorrow, rage and penance.
Violence is the crime, and violence is the punishment. Punishment for not being strong enough. Punisent for not being able to protect those dear to me. Punishment for being a beast, a monster.
I bear these marks across my body, yet must hide them from the world under cloth and cover. Because if my loved ones see them, it will cause them suffering. And if they suffer because of me, I shall pay for it. Thus the cycle of hurting continues.
I am selfishness incarnate. Millions are suffering from real problems in the world. Mine are inside my head. I am unable to help anyone. Helpless, selfish little creature. You must pay in blood.
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So here I am, having a mental breakdown and on the verge of crying at work, when the radio decided "no, that ain't happening on my watch" and played "Mambo N°5" by Lou Bega.
All my thoughts of "quitting my job", "breaking up with my partner", and "moving back with my parents until someone finds me thrown in a ditch somewhere" keep getting interrupted by ONE, TWO, THREE FOUR FIVE~
EVERYBODY IN THE CAR, SO COME ON, LET'S RIDE~
And it feels weird.
I should know, I've done this to people to break them out of their downward spirals and help them refocus. But this is one of those cases where the cobbler's children have no shoes, and normally I have no one to interrupt my own downward spirals so they run their course in full. Lou wasn't having any of it, apparently.
I can't afford to break down at work today anymore, so I'm queueing up La Macarena and Scatman John next.
Thanks, Lou. You a real one. ✌️
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