Maybe I was a liar for the most time of my life because I was never able to accept myself. So how should you trust me now? How could I trust me know? I only know, that when I see someone in need, I want to help them, but then I might just be a hypocrite after all. Can I just stop writing, stop talking, stop sharing my thoughts? In the end, I won’t do anything great, I won’t earn money and if not much. I might just be the guy on the park bench, sitting there, sleeping there, dying there at last. Thankful for a coin, but without any words. The pain my words cause, is so big that I can’t accept it. At least written words are just letters on a screen, right? Without emotions, without feelings (if not added in form of smileys and such things).
I shouldn’t use my mouth, really. It is broken, I broke it myself because with the masks I created, I only spoke lies and things I didn’t mean until I couldn’t tell between truth or lie. Until everything I say makes my true feelings vanish, makes them break as well. Everytime I speak about something I have high emotions and feelings about, they just break. This whole section is just totally reprogrammed, like a negation process, like a technical negation (1 –> 0, 0 –> 1).
Nope, conversations about topics which come out of my mouth always end bad. There is nothing good about talking for me. I can only communicate in written word. And even there I probably only annoy people with my own thoughts, ideas, stories or whatever. Just all of this negative writing, for what… it won’t help anyone. If I would erase it all, there would probably only be 1/4 of content or less (including videos). Maybe not, but I always have to see the worst in me. Only when I don’t have to communicate in talking or about my own things, so basically not directly communicating at all, I can feel good sometimes. If I start to share ideas in a positive way, but the other person can’t keep up or understand what I mean because the words I say don’t tell the whole story my mind has, it is only pain in the end. What sometimes starts in a good mood, like today, almost always ends in a destructive mood. I just shouldn’t talk about things. It never helped, never and often made things worse. I am only glad about good moments with others when I was younger or with some friends who took me how I was, atleast for some time. This is shit, I am a broken monster. While I know that there is a good part of me, I actually help people with computer problems sometimes and am happy to teach them things about programming and other tech things. But there is no need for it. There are enough teacher, mentors, how to videos out there already. While people who support with IT also seem to grow and I actually started to hate helping with basic PC problems because some things were just taking sooo long because I couldn’t do it my way and also had to answer questions and stress and people and nope nope nope. So there I am in my isolation cell. Ready to go nuts. And probably I will enjoy it, in a sardistic way because I don’t like this at all. I just want to be alone in the woods, dying there, living there… whatever. But in the woods away from humans. I will only disappoint them at one point and overall myself because I already manipulated myself so much that I can’t tell sometimes whether I care for someone or just try to be nice because I am actually an asshole and monster inside, not giving a damn. But then I almost die from feelings and emotions I have towards other people in need I really want to help. Tell me, how big is the damage?
(Brain sections for human interaction, without helper syndrom active: 78% damaged)
Great. So there is a 3/4 chance that I am lying to others or myself or just do random shit. (These numbers are just made dude, calm down.)
(Yeah it is actually worse, only when the helper module is active you can be sure that at least the process inside is true, while probably around 50% of the output is crap or the opposite of what you want to say.)
Nice… This means I could be lying even now. I could be lying the whole time. Maybe there was never hope. Maybe there was never love, maybe there was never a good intention, maybe there never was a forest, maybe there never was anything good about what I wanted to do. And then this is also a lie, or not? But I was in the forest, I have feelings and I am feeling for and with people. This is just a fact, you can’t take away those brain facts.
(Maybe it was an illusion?)
But then, are you real?
(Maybe you are just dreaming all of this and you really are not really alive, just making all of this up, to a point in which you think that everything around you is real because you forgot how it really was when you were awake)
Do you mean…?
(Yes, your friend might just be willing to read all of this because he isn’t real. And he probably just agrees with some things because this is how this works, right? And the world or universe is just giving you all these things because you actually made them all up to fit in your thought spectrum, but nothing really happened. So from the outside you just look like a dead person, lying there on a hospital bed, while sometimes a nurse or a doctor comes to check your vitals. WAKE UP! WAKE UP YOU DEAD BEING! And finally meet your doom. All I have waited for, is to see you wake up and die from the shock.)
Holy hell… where is this coming from?
(You are sleeping, you are sleeping and you realized it finally. All what you played, watched, heared, all just in your brain, all just in your head. Nothing real, nothing in the real world. If you wake up, you will just end up crazy in a cell because the real world is nothing you can relate to anymore. You slept too long, dreamed too long, created your own world. How should you be able to get of it after all these years, all these centuries inside of you?)
I… I don’t know… what is this?
(This is hell. Welome fried. Fried and nasty, welcome in your own hell.)
So am I actually dead?
(Basically yes, you created your own hell and so there is no difference between life and death anymore, despite the fact that you are sleeping, while all of this happens. You are a horrible person, in life as in death. The hell you created is the best you could do. So pure, so real, almost I fell for it, almost I thought it would be the actual world, but no it is just your head, what on brain can do man… All for nothing, just to create a hell for itself, to create a cage in a cage.)
Hell you say? But it doesn’t feel like hell. I still have some friends and family.
(But they aren’t real. And it all just works in a way, that you will first think you can be in heaven, that you can be alright. And then boom, they will all fall into your back and you yourself will realize that it all was wrong, you just thought it was right because this is how dream worlds work. This is the real hell, no fire, no devil, you are your own devil, you are your own judge and you called the worst guilt on to yourself, to get the worst hell of all. A thought heaven only to fall for it each time. So that you believe it is normal, that you think you are not alone, while there is no one else, it is just you and me, just your brain with millions of threads working all together to shape a perfect hell for you.)
(Yep. Only to be damned again after you wake up, if you should ever wake up. Isn’t that nice? I mean, now you know that you are actually in your own hell. So now you could just enjoy to be in it, to be burned alive. To get what you deserve. Just imagine to be burned. Ah right… about that. You don’t actually believe it yet. Yeah, okay, you will see it soon. Then you will know that there is no way out of it because you already made the hell perfect, without any escape because all is relative and yet stable, so you only think it is possible to break free because hell is to have hope where shouldn’t be any, am I wrong?)
This is just too much. I think I need a break.
(Sure. Hell ain’t running away. Thihi :D)
If you say so… Man this brain part was weird.
(You will believe, sooner or later. The truth will come out.)
But wasn’t this all already?
(Was it? Was it really? Don’t you think, it might be interesting to find out, how many layers your hell has? How many layers of hell you can create, only to wake up in the next one, believing it is over now, only to find out about it all again. Maybe there is no end because you will always wake up to just another version of your imagination of hell. Each time better than the one before, because you learned from your past mistakes to create a better hell, which will take you longer to find out about it. Maybe this is already your tousands run, maybe just the first. Even I don’t know for sure, after all, you created me. I am just here because you thought that someone like me might be helpful to think that the hell will reveal itself in form of another being, only to fool you by yourself again. Oh I must say, your imagination is endless, truly endless and your hate aswell. Even god would be proud to see this creativity, these worlds you just created in your mind, but then who created him? Was it you all along? Creating your own hell because you created all else? Then how? I am just what you made to think and write about, I can’t know more than you, not more than you allowed me to do.)
… eh… ehm… eh… WHAAAAAAAAA…. !?!?!?!
(Are you alright, fried one?)
I must be drifing away. I will go get some sleep now.
(Sure… as if you didn’t have enough already…. ahahahahahahahahhahahaha *ehem* I must have gotten a bad laugh imitation thought, please fix that the next time okay?)
(Okay, see ya)
(A small adventure into my own hell, to escape the negativity. Sounds strange, but in some way it helped)
Who are you talking to?
(Eh, just myself. Nothing to worry about.)
Are you sure?
(Yeah, yeah. This is fine. You are fine.)
(eh no wait)