Memento Mori.

Got to see people I haven’t seen in a long time. And got drunk. Fun times.

Will not be back until evil is defeated.

I wish I had a more consistent sleep cycle. Being up this late has only brought upon the dark mood once again. The sinking feeling of wanting to believe in my own potential, but never amounting to anything. I’ve been choking down that feeling, eventually requiring the aid of food to soothe the discomfort.

It didn’t really help much for me to read about unconditional positive regard/reinforcement. It was never something I’ve had, and if this theory is true, then perhaps my development is more unhealthy than I thought.

People also nurture our growth by being accepting—by offering us what Rogers called unconditional positive regard. This is an attitude of grace, an attitude that values us even knowing our failings. It is a profound relief to drop our pretenses, confess our worst feelings, and discover that we are still accepted. In a good marriage, a close family, or an intimate friendship, we are free to be spontaneous without fearing the loss of others’ esteem.

Too many masks worn upon everyone’s faces. Some layered endlessly. Then again, I am one of them. There has never been someone that I could ever tell everything to. Be it the time constraints and/or trust, there is always something that prevents me from divulging my true thoughts. In fact, the most that I’ve said about myself is in this blog. Even then, it doesn’t reveal the reason for my depression or what I believe is lacking in my life. I leave too many hints, but none have ever been picked up on.

Perhaps I will live as Lucky had. Leaving my original family to live in a new environment. Sitting around, waiting my whole life. Once in a while, a friendly face will pat my back, but they are merely doing it out of triviality or pity. Of course, I would smile. Fear from my past experiences prevents me from doing what any other person would attempt. Ultimately, I would die alone, never accomplishing anything. The people that would visit at their convenience would just be told, “He ran away.” No one would cry. The caretakers would be happier that their duties were relieved. A meaningless life of a mutt. Would there be anything to differentiate me and him?

We are peaceful entities. We do not require constant happiness. Another person’s presence is enough. We do not require the thrills of living or the allure of risk. We prefer to enjoy what we have. Though we have many fears and insecurities, we will not run from you because of that fear. We are alone. In life and death. Or so I predict.

Tearing at the seams once again; an awful sight. I don’t think I can stand school any longer. It feels more solitary than sitting at my computer talking to myself. It’s been four years and only one single person has really talked to me about things outside the course. (She’s gone now.) Four years.

Four years I’ve gone about the same routine. Wake up, shower, grab food, drive to school, park, go to class, take notes, go drive home, lunch, sit on the computer for hours, dinner, preoccupy my mind until I can sleep. There is nothing to look forward to. No person to really talk to. No one smiles at me. I can only see the grim expressions on everyone’s faces every day and if you don’t see a friendly face day after day after day, you start to forget what smiling is. Now, I’ve become one of them. I walk through life, not smiling at anything. No matter how much I try to make myself laugh, it just doesn’t work out. I am sick of school. It feels like a prison. I would very much prefer working every day, even if it’s the job I currently have. The low pay and hard labor doesn’t compare to the inanity of going to school.

Of course, I know my distrust in people has generally led to my social out-casting. It’s not something I’m not aware of. But at the same time, it doesn’t make sense to say I just need to be more open. No, I can never be that open. It is an undertaking that requires total rebirth or understanding to fix, though much more easily manipulated into temporary surrender.

I am not happy. I sit here with my hand on my chest, moving toward my throat as I try to relinquish the sadness. I hate it. The more I wait in life, the more alone I feel, but any step toward doing something about it, the more I unconsciously grasp at the acceptance of being alone. Doing things that will ensure that I will be alone. I hate myself. I never stopped hating myself. I don’t feel like I could ever stop.

Life isn’t short at all. It is very long and drawn out. It is all the happy moments that seem so short and far away.

.emo

I’ve been thinking about a story lately and couldn’t compose anything meaningful in my head, so I’ll be writing a bit of my thoughts here. If it leads anywhere, then maybe I’ll finish this some other time.

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It feels like just another day. Walking down the streets, I wonder what it would be like to come down and see the world. There must be something there, you know? I heard they also have towns and cities as well, but I’ve also been told of how unsanitary and dangerous it is there. Is it really that bad though?

As I ponder, I hear a friendly voice.

“Greeting Mordek. How do you fare?” It was my childhood friend, Ezurah.

“I am well, dear Ezurah. I trust you, the same?”

“Indeed. May I ask, what brings you to the commune?”

“Ah yes. A mere stroll to clear an anxious mind.” I say thoughtfully.

A complex expression came about his face. “Then you must have heard the unsettling news. I pray the foul beasts are to be purged.”

Confused by his assumption, I ask, “What matter of beasts do you speak of?”

Surprised, Ezurah tells me, “My dear Mordek, I speak of the fallen ones. They have forsaken our kind for the likes of the groundlings. They do not know the shame they have brought upon our kind and their own families. The only way they can redeem themselves is by purging.” He says it all with a smile.

My lips droop. “Dear Ezurah, do you not find the purge to be excessive? Would it not be better to teach our fellow brothers and sisters what is right and wrong as we do any other principle?”

An angry snarl appears. “Mordek, you fool. The ones that have fallen to the grasp of the groundlings are doomed to shame and dishonor. The only way they can rid themselves of their sins is the purge. How far you stray from the righteous path, Mordek. I fear there may be a seed of evil planted within.” He says with a disappointed look.

“Fear not, dear Ezurah. I have no doubts that we need to rid the fallen ones of their curse, but what I fear is our actions to cleanse our brothers and sisters cause us to bring sin to our society.”

“Sin? Mordek, you truly are a fool. The purge is not sin. The purge is an act of grace and pity. The purge is a ritual for us to bring justice for all the family and kin of the afflicted. It is the ONLY justice, and because of this fact, it is necessary and proper for us to enforce the purge. Now enough of this nonsense. Let us go to the central square. We must all stand together and be firm against these wretches.”

I just look on and follow him. Was this really the right thing to do? I know that these people need to be corrected, but the purge just didn’t make sense to me.

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It is loud here. Everyone crowded together, waiting anxiously to purge the afflicted ones. The fallen. I’ve been to a few purges before. Everyone seems to be having a blast; yelling and shouting, throwing their hands in the air, as though we were watching a sporting event. “Bring out the wretches!” I can barely think with all this noise. “We must purge them or they might spread their wickedness!” My conviction would never be swayed by them. I know that my beliefs are correct. “Kill them all!!”

The fallen ones walked on to the stage. They were completely painted black, so we could not identify them. Their hair was dyed black and their clothes removed. They were not wearing anything except the chains on their hands, feet, and wings.

“You beasts!” I guess they needed their identity hidden to save their family and friends from the dishonor. “You blasphemers!” Does the paint really cover their identity? “They must all be purged!” I look closely at each of them while the crowd grows restless. “Kill them already!”

Oh, dear God. “Mary!!” I yell. “MARY!!!!!!!!” Did I mistaken her? “MARY, IS THAT YOU?” She looks my direction. My heart froze. How can this be? “No! Why, Mary??” I try to push my way through the crowd, but they push back.

“Stop pushing, you miscreant! I waited here all day!” He screams.

“You don’t understand! I know that woman!”

“You are kin to that whore? Tch, I can only wonder how far you have fallen as well.” He says disapprovingly.

“You’re wrong! She is pure! She’s one of us!”

“She is one of you all right, but she is not one of us.” He throws me to the ground, knocking all the wind out of me. I struggle to breathe as he mounts me and starts pummeling me. As the crowd tries to stop him, he says to them, “He is in league with the fallen! He must be purged as well!”

I can clearly see the crowd actively taking their hands away from him. Smiling, he continues his flurry of fists. My ears began to ring as all the blood rises to my face. Though my ears were ringing, all I could hear was Mary’s screams as they began to purge her. I black out never knowing when the screams ended.

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I wake up feeling the numbness from the facial bruising. It itches, but when I try to feel my face, I realize my hands were stuck together. There’s a lot of dried blood coming from my nose to my mouth and chin. The annoyance causes me to try to wipe it off. I look down to my hands, but I couldn’t see anything. I move my hands around, only to feel the rattling of the chains they were connected to. A door across from me opens. I was momentarily blinded from the light.

“I see you are well, Mordek.” says the voice.

“Dear Ezurah, is that you?”

“Yes, Mordek. It is me.” says the voice.

My vision slowly returns as I see that it is indeed Ezurah.

“Thank God you are here Ezurah. I was beaten on the streets and I wake up here with my hands bounded. What has happened, dear kin?”

“Do not call me kin, Mordek. You have betrayed our kind.”

“What do you mean, dear Ezurah? I have done no such thing.”

I look down at my hands. To my horror, they were painted black.

“You must be purged of your evil. Only then can you call me kin, Mordek.”

“My dear Ezurah! I am as pure as the day I was born! I have done no evil nor have I been afflicted! You must believe me, Ezurah! They have purged Mary! We can never see her again! I am so sorry, my dear friend.”

“You are but a fool, Mordek. You do not know of your own afflictions, as the afflicted will never admit to it. This is good bye, Mordek.”

“No!! Don’t leave me here, Ezurah! What about Mary??”

A tear forms in his eye. “DON’T SPEAK OF HER, YOU DAMNED MISCREANT! YOU SOIL HER NAME!” And he was gone.

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Much time had passed, until someone finally came. It was a guard.

“Thank God! Please sir, I am innocent! I-” Then he hit me so hard in the back of my head that I fell down. I couldn’t move momentarily from the hard blow.

“Stand up, you cur, or I will make you stand!” I wobble to my feet, but he drags me through the door, shaking me at times just to make me fall.

Before I knew it, I heard the familiar screams. “He must be purged!” Oh dear God, no. “He has been afflicted! I knew it could be spread!” No! They’re wrong! “Kill him!!”

Scared, I tried to spread my wings. I remember now; they had always been pierced together to prevent escape. “He tried to get away! He is beyond purging! JUST KILL HIM!” No! This must be a nightmare!

The guard hits me in the back of my head again. I sprawl on the stage. He grabs me by the neck and chains it to the platform. “HURRY! BEFORE WE CATCH HIS CONTAGION!” It’s not contagious! It’s an idea!!

A tremendous amount of pain courses through my back, all the way to my brain. “PURGE! PURGE! PURGE!” The pain returns over and over. I grit my teeth, for the sensation is enough to make me bite my skin off. Each time, worse and worse. The feel of rusted metal combined with the pathogens burn their way through my nervous system and into my blood. “MORE!!”

When the pounding of blades against my back subsided, I gasped for air. Tears streamed down my face. Anything to mentally ease the pain.

The next blade caught me by surprise, causing me to bite my tongue. I scream out, only to have the blood block my throat and air passages. The more I struggled, the more reckless the swings were. My eyes rolled to the back of my head.

I woke up. The pain was evidence that everything had happened, along with the shouting of the audience. “KILL HIM!!” I guess I haven’t died after all. I cough out blood as the audience backs away, disgusted. “HOW VILE! THE PURGING DID NOT WORK!! KILL HIM!!!”

I didn’t care anymore. Everything I believed in was wrong. These people are wrong. This is inhumane, not justice.

I hear the locks around my neck open. Someone picks me up from the platform. I turn to my right. It was Ezurah.

“Ez… you cay… ahh… mai mowf…” I try to say with my torn tongue.

He speaks, “My people, this man has wronged me and a purged one greatly! He cannot be purged. I am sad to say that there is but one option to cleanse him of his sins.”

“Ez… please save me.” I beg.

“He must be exiled.”

What? Does he have a plan to save me? My dear Ezurah, thank you.

He carries me to the end. I feel the cool rising air across my torn and bruised flesh.

“Ez… wa?” I asked, confused.

He throws me off the edge. The air cutting my torn skin, agitating my open wounds. I’m falling. My instincts kick in. I spread my wings and begin to fly.

Something is wrong. No matter how much I tense my wings, I am not catching any air. Fear wells up inside me. I start flapping them furiously. I look to my right. Nothing is there. I snap back to the left. Nothing as well.

I have been purged. I have been exiled. I fall through eternity as the world cuts my meager existence at the seams.

End prologue.

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Spoilers maybe.

I named him Mordek because he is supposed to die upon landing. He isn’t the main character. The story is going to be about the rebel groundlings that try to overtake the Archs’ rule. The problem is that they do not know where the Aerials are, but have confirmed dead bodies of Archs with severed wings around the area. (Mordek’s body is among one of them.) Anyway, I don’t want to give too much away, since I like giving surprises. Hope you enjoyed it.

Plans for the coming weeks? Finals then Sun God (maybe). Wish me luck.

Sometimes to be logical, we must remove all emotions and feelings. The problem is by doing so, we lose all compassion and delve further into what it means to be “human.” The only animal with a frontal lobe large enough to overcome the amygdala’s process of natural reflex is humankind. For example, imagine yourself stuck in a basement with some random family composed of the parents and a baby. You are being searched by locals who are out to kill any foreigners because of cultural purging. The baby starts to cry. You hear the footsteps on the floor about dashing around looking for the source of that sound. You have a knife in hand. Do you kill the baby to save everyone else’s lives or do you do nothing and have everyone found and murdered?

The amygdala is what tells anything with a brain “do not kill your kind.” It dictates what “nature” intends (or more properly put, it is prominent in all animals who have this part of the brain to act this certain way). Humans, on the other hand, have a prefrontal cortex that can override the amygdala if trained. Soldiers and certain other occupations do this. With the prefrontal cortex conditioned properly, one can kill their own kind or even kin without the guilt associated with the amygdala.

Anyway, the feeling of forcing serious logic over compassion has usually led me down dark days. The empty void of saying something that makes sense, but having it leave me all alone in the end just makes me feel cold. Or maybe I should put it into better terms. There is no “cold.” Only lack of heat/warmth. (Association with loneliness intended.)

I don’t know why I pursue the “truth” to such an extent. I know that knowing everything is not going to change how things are, only help me understand “why?” I wonder if anyone has faced a similar internal struggle.

Should my brain be “human” or should I be “all-natural?”

The red guy at the end is called Thanos and basically, he is a “god.” The reason why Thanos became interested when Chitauri leader tells him that to be involved with earth is to “court Death” is because has met Mistress Death (a real entity in Marvel Comics) and dedicates all his efforts for her sake. His main goal is to destroy all that is living in tribute to Mistress Death.

Thanos has everything that Thor has (minus Mjolnir) except amplified. He belongs to a race called the Eternals who, like the name suggests, are able to live for eternity. Thanos is also able to travel through time, control cosmic forces, and many other “god-like” abilities. (I’m not sure if he gains them in the first or second saga.)

A quick note: The Avengers 3 may also feature Thanos again if the storyline follows the comics (there are 2 sagas for Thanos). The first saga, he aims to find something that is hidden on earth (secret weapon of mass destruction type thing).  They are able to defeat him with the help of Captain Marvel, but because he is an Eternal (basically immortal), he was not killed. The second saga he comes back, but instead of destroying all life, he aims to gain power from sacrificing stars. In this saga, they are able to kill him with the sacrifice of Captain Marvel, but since he (Captain Marvel) was immortal, he had a choice in the “other world” to either come back or stay. Mistress Death is finally able to convince him of the hopelessness of life, bringing about the end of Captain Marvel in the living world. (This symbolizes the futility of the struggle that heroes put forth for the masses. Even the strongest and most invincible of heroes gives up fighting for ‘us.’)

Anyway, hope you all enjoy it.

Working as a busboy at a Chinese restaurant was pretty tiring. Clearing everything from finished tables, setting them up, getting iced water and/or tea for each party, getting anything else they need, etc. Basically, being everyone’s servant.

Bringing heavy trays of water, tea, dirty dishes/utensils, and clean dishes/utensils to and fro made my legs tired and my feet sore. I work for 5 hours straight, without any break. It’s the most rigorous thing I’ve done for year(s).

After a hard day’s work, the workers sit together and eat. Having a nice lunch with all the people that I work with was very nice. I don’t really have a way to communicate with them (not fluent in Chinese/Vietnamese), but it still felt really nice.

The low pay and division of tips aren’t great. They really aren’t. But just doing the work itself feels a lot more rewarding to me than the things I do each day. I feel like I am useful and that my existence is preferred; that they would choose having me around, than having slightly more money (although since more people are able to be seated and served quickly, there might be a deviation tending toward less money).

So the question I’ve been asking myself recently returns: Should I end my schooling? Ever since I started college, I haven’t been happy with it. The methodology and the impending projects/papers/tests are just too much pressure for me. I just want a general understanding of the subject… so why does my understanding of one subject have to affect my “worth” (in GPA) overall or with any other subject? Blah, blah, blah. More ranting.

I’ve decided to be a part-time student next semester. If I find a job that requires me to work during those hours that I have class, I will drop the classes. I’m no longer going to prioritize schooling over my happiness. I feel working will help me build up confidence as a person, instead of sitting and debating whether or not my existence even matters.

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On a side note, I cut my hair and shaved for this job. I probably look better in the eyes of society, but I myself don’t care. Not having shaved in a long time, the cuts and burns from the razor welled up dark patches of blood (the kind that is really hard to wash off). And when I was looking at myself in the mirror as his mom cut my hair, it felt really strange. She had to cut my hair in segments because of how long it was. What a waste of hair.

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My goal still stands. My dream is to create a safe-haven for all of us. A real home. I throw away greed and desire so, perhaps, my dream can slowly be realized.

Here’s to high hopes.

Another doll’s face. Seemingly normal. Turn it upside down. Frighteningly real. Zoom in. My spine cringes at how real it looks. Something so fake shouldn’t be so real. It destroys whatever boundaries the living and the dead have.

Just another nonsensical fear I have.