Torment and Portal 2 quoted in the same post. A man after my own heart.
Torment and Portal 2 quoted in the same post. A man after my own heart.
Originally Posted by Rafflesiac
>Again, to be blunt: That's just being a brat.
I appreciate the compliment, although i'm sure that's not what you intended with what you wrote.
What i mean is that especially given that 'brat' can mean both spoiled and child, i'll take the latter, especially considering that even according to my scientific research, being an adult currently seems to stand for somebody who is completely psychologically mutilated and unable to truly synchronize with one's own inner self; adults reject their own selves, adults reject the ability to feel pain (or to feel at all), and in doing so, end up existing as incomplete and mutilated beings. As an example of this, adults will rarely cry, especially so when with no intent or purpose other than displaying what they feel. Adults, well... Rarely display what they feel, even to themselves. Given this context, i'd rather remain a brat... I don't wanna be an emotionless meatbot.
What you've written sorta makes me wonder whether your inner child (you know, the person who you were [and still are, although you likely heavily repress that facet] before you built a psychological palace/labyrinth to keep that child/true self from showing up) isn't crying an ocean and drowing within their own tears, suffering a lot since they* dies but continues to exist in the pain of death, and basically can't come out, and be what they truly is, nor do as they truly wishes to.
*they = agendered reference, he/she in a single syllable
I'm not looking for an excuse not to kill myself, i might add. I'm just expressing what i truly feel... With no intents or purposes. I'm just being. I do admit that i'd be interesting to find someone willing to try to rescue me from the dungeon i'm trapped in, but uh, the only thing that's being fought against is my own desire to put an end to this. I'm not sure what to think on this, but i think this is somewhat relevant. Besides, talking about one's sorrows is important, all in all.
Other than this, i'm sorry, but i think this whole "endure" thing isn't healthy at all. It feels more like what you're saying might be described as an attempt to convince someone that suffering in silence is a good thing, although it might be pure masochism. The "grow strong" part sounds more like trying to link the idea of strength with what might be described as a type of self-censorship, so that someone takes remaining in silence while in pain as something good, due to a type of self-rewarding, self-deceiving mental routine. This doesn't feel like getting strong, this feels more like being too weak to raise one's voice to say what one truly feels, and convincing one's own self that such weakness is strength.
All in all, this reminds me of the movie Camp X-Ray, where in order to reinforce the idea that someone's life doesn't belong to one's own self, the female protagonist went as far as asking the prisoner not to commit suicide, when all the life prospect the guy had was remaining locked up for decades in jail. You know, the whole thing about closing the piece with the morals of the day, immoral as they might be.
I have to say that while the effort might (emphasis on the might part) be well intentioned, uh, wouldn't it be somewhat better to try to look for a solution to my problem rather than try to gag me?
Killing myself means saving myself in case no other option is available. I'm somewhat astonished as to how most people fail to realize that being kept in a funny farm with a computer and internet access isn't enough for a living... Well, it's sorta tolerable, although mostly i think that it's being tolerable because suicide ( in this case, more like self-applied euthanasia, really) is available and a metaphorical white knight might have shown up in another media, with lawyers along with them, so i guess i'm waiting with a bit of hope. It's different from being stuck, though.
Last edited by purple_teardrops; April 16th, 2019 at 03:56 PM.
Well, if you're this invested in rejecting what is in favor of what (in your view) should be, the only other advice I can give is: become an artist of some stripe. You already have a vivid imagination and a penchant for purple prose, pardon the pun, figure out a way to sell them to others as "eccentricity" rather than "futile escapism" and make some money on the side. The great wheels of Society will turn with you on board the train as well as under it; the only one affected will be you. You will not be who you want to be, do what you want to do, feel what you want to feel; from prince to pauper, that priviledge belongs to no-one. But you DO have the freedom, and the power, to make your own "good enough".
shit BL says
Once and always and nevermore.
I think i should mention that my family has illegaly placed me within a literal funny farm. I'm currently imprisoned within a drug rehab facility for smoking pot. Even though they're allowing me to use a computer and granting me internet access, i truly can't leave this hellhole. To make matters worse, i think they're trying to somehow label me as a crazy person who can't take care of myself, in order to effectively turn me into their puppet.
So uh, no freedom in this situation. Quite the contrary... I think all the freedom i got is the freedom to cry out for help here in cyberspace.
- - - Updated - - -
Cheesus Thrist... I love f/ELE's Alice with all my heart, but considering that the f/Es' moon cell is something of an electronic simulation of reality, i think i just realized how much my appreciation for the character feels like a giant irony.
Man.
even when I’m off work I still hear people blatantly misuse the word illegally to refer to an involuntary stay at the psych ward.
just be glad you aren’t at my hospital kiddo. You would be one to one with someone literally watching you pee.
Spoiler:
Smug is love
whats new in grand order anyway
Nice, but Kirei was more Zurvan.
...It be stormin' outside.
shit BL says
Once and always and nevermore.
If I had a similar smug face template of kirei, he'd be it
But I didnt see one
Plus Scathy has been a go-to avatar since I started here
i don't have a go-to avatar
I think this is the point where this conversation ends, due to reasons i'd rather not comment on. Other than this, i presume this is pointless, but please, i ask you to take into consideration the way this type of 'treatment' is making me feel when dealing with those locked within the prison you work on.
Make less poor decisions, have more abilities to make your own choices.
the psych ward ain’t hard.
O walls, you have held up so much tedious graffiti that I am amazed you have not already collapsed in ruin.
She mastered 3 elements at 4? What the heck? I can see where you're coming from with the statue though. I just really loved the show, and him and the rest of the group.
Last edited by Laserman; April 18th, 2019 at 01:07 AM.
Spoiler:
"Mastered". Like her tutors say, she's good at the physical side of bending, but is very lacking when it comes to the spiritual one.
I still think its dumb compared to your normal 4y olds motor skills
back when i finished korra i had sequel in mind that picked up 20-30 yrs later
this was part of the prologue before i got bored and stopped
Kuvira paced from one corner of her platinum prison to the next, listening to the gentle patter of her feet on the cold metal. Unbendable in any way, shape, or form, she was boxed in on all sides, unable to escape.
Since her removal from Ba Sing Se and her more loftier accommodations at Republic City, they had made the tough decision of placing her far out in Southern Waters away from any notable signs of civilization.
For fear of attempts on her life, of which a few had been thwarted, and to distill anyone of the notation that one day she would spark an uprising.
She still remembered leaving the docks, those once close to her watching her board the ship and sail away, chained in iron. The last she ever saw of them. For how long, she could not say, having lost track the numbers of days, the weeks, the months—years—since her captivity. All she knew, was that gray-white had been her world for quite some time, and would continue to be so, until she grew gray and white herself.
By then, what she had done, who she had been, whether she were remembered as the loyal follower or power craving usurper, all she was would fade into obscurity. Into the dark history of the world that parents would tell their children never to reiterate, but learn from and do better because of. What a leader would strive to set an example of, and what his people would judge him against, lest he fail and fall down a similar path. She was a mistake of the past, locked away. Tucked in some corner at the back of people's minds. Nothing more than a forgotten news article, buried beneath the pile.
Outside her prison, the guard shift changed, signifying that day had become night. There was a rap, a series of two quick knocks, and a slit opened, heated food pushed through on a tray. Sitting cross-legged, she placed the tray on her lap and ate. The guard on the other side sneezed, and she felt a draft coming in.
“Can you close that?” she asked after wiping her mouth with a provided cloth.
“Ah, sorry!” The slit slammed shut.
Finished with her food, she thought of him shivering in place, teeth chattering. “Can you open it again please?” When it was, she pushed the tray back out and waited for him to ask why she hadn't touched her cup. “Heat it up for yourself. You need something warm.”
To think this young guard was tasked with watching over her in the middle of Southern Waters, surrounded by glaciers, with nothing else to keep his attention but the stillness of the waves—she closed her eyes and leaned against the back wall of her prison. There was a burst of heat and she opened them again. The slit was open, the cup sitting there.
“You need it more than me,” he said, voice slipping through the slit.
She smirked. Such kindness. Taking the cup in her hands and drinking, its warmth traveled down to the deepest reaches of her heart. Placing it down, she waited for his hand to reach through and brushed his wrist, causing him to hastily snatch the cup and close the slit yet again. His hands were scarred.
“What's your name?” A silly question, as she already knew from listening to the back and forth between him and another guard. The smirk widened a fraction at his answer. Atsuko. Imagining his parents brainstorming ideas for a girl instead of what they'd actually gotten she chuckled—if only a little. They must have decided it not a deal breaker, and went with the chosen name anyway.
From the lack of response to her amusement, he must not have heard her, and she took the chance to ask more of him. His past. How his name first came about in the minds of his parents. Then, she realized, she was assuming that his parents were the ones who named him, and let her words fall short. Instead, she rephrased the question, “How did you get your name?”
There was a pause. “My... grandfather... gave it to me.” Grandparents. She didn't even have those. As for her own parents...
What might they have looked like? All she saw were artificial images, fabricated from bits and pieces of stories, shrouded by the neglect and the want. The washed out hope that, one day, she would have a chance to meet them. To meet them and ask why. One day. How many years had it been since her imprisonment? Atsuko would know.
“Four.”
Four. Four. It felt more like one or two. Mulling over this information, she thought to ask what the world was like now, how the Avatar and her friends were keeping the world together, how the Earth Kingdom was faring with her out of the picture, then reminded herself that whatever the world was now, it was surely better than caged in iron.
Lifting her eyes, she wanted to know.
And, Atsuko answered, “I don't know the details, but for the most part, it's peaceful. A couple of uprisings were started after yours, but none of them got that much off the ground.” When asked about the Earth Kingdom, he shrugged, saying he had no idea as he'd been in service to the Fire Lord and never cared for the affairs of other nations, until recently and, since his transfer, his only care was watching her. “Though, I have heard... rumors... of someone... creating a new weapon...” Varric was that came to her mind, “... and it can allow non-benders to use firebending with just their hands.”
“And does this new weapon have a name...? ”
“Fire-spitter."
"Is that official or did you just give it that?"
"M..."
"Hm? I can't hear you."
"It was mine..." She heard him shuffle his feet.
"Go on."
"It doesn't have an actual name yet, I don't think. I mean, I haven't heard anything about a name... So... what do you think?"
The smirk gentled out, into a genuine smile. "It's..." She liked his positivism.
"... cool?"
"Stupid."
Though, she could imagine a few who might still be following her story, digging through the heap to find the snippets. At least one of whom, would be, no matter what. Even through the hurt and the pain and regret of what role they could have played in part to how she turned out. Asking the important questions of what could they have done differently, how they could have averted it, and when they should have acted in doing so.
Bloody hell, my weeks keep getting worse.
noice,
- - - Updated - - -
was either this or yeah yeah yeahs, but more ppl here have probably heard them before, so
- - - Updated - - -
daydream by lil leise is also pretty good: https://soundcloud.com/lilleisebutgo...leise-but-gold
Posting Permissions
Reply With Quote
