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Aether | Mythic Invincible!
 
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Long live NoNolesNeckin.

Ya fuckin' ganderneck.
It's funny. Many of the E posts I've read I've thought to myself, "This sounds like Sandtrap."
You could notice it earlier when E said that he uses Garry Mod for art.
No, I mean I've been thinking this for months.


E | Ascended Posting Riot
 
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Sorry I took so long. Got stuck at the hospital. Have to bear with me on this one, because there's going to be a lot of subject bouncing. I'll try to condense it. I want to clarify. These aren't excuses to justify things. They're perspectives to show you why those three years matter to your life.

The first reason why those three years still mean something Ender, is this. Think with me in hypotheticals and certainties. The first certain thing was this. I was going to mentally collapse, no matter what I did. The second, was that my friend, Quiet, was going to die. The last straw that snapped me in two. The third certainty was that I was going to leave here. I had to beat my dependency on the internet, which had become my last and only crutch, which fed all my internal bullshit. So one way or another, I was going to leave.

Had I ghosted, I would have left everybody asking questions. I've been ghosted. I know how much not knowing eats you. Result? Pain. I could try and say my goodbyes, but that would have caused a level of pain too. "Hey guys, I've mentally gone off the deep end and I have no intent of surviving, k thanks bye." More pain.

There was no scenario were nobody got hurt. But I needed a scenario strong enough to push me away from the internet. Quiet surmised that we use death as a blocker. I'd feel guilty in doing it, but guilt would keep me at bay for a long time while I attempted to sort my shit out. So, essentially Ender, I would've caused you three years of some kind of pain no matter what I did.

Onto another perspective then. I had a significant other, Ender. A gaming buddy. Met her when I was fourteen. I knew her until I was twenty. She was killed by a drunk driver. She was my equal. Imagine me, but better than I am. Less damaged, more optimistic. We helped each other out mentally quite a bit. When she died, my entire world went dark. I was, and still am half a person without her. And I internalized all of that pain, and never spoke a word of it for years to anybody.

However. If I got a document signed by god himself telling me that if I lit myself on fire and jumped into an oil pit, I could bring her back, or any of my other friends for that matter, I'd do it. If I had to re live every single bad day of my life over and over again just to see her smile, one more time, I'd do it Ender. What I'm trying to get at is this.

All of my bad days played their part in writing portions of how my future turned out. I had to go through the bad days, and the good days to meet that person whom I loved so deeply. So I'd like you to think. I caused you a shit ton of bad days, yes. But who did they lead you to? Is it not fair to assume that those bad days played their part in who you're involved with now? It's not a justification, but a simple fact. Those bad days determined on some level how things played out. You have in your life what I no longer have, in a small part because I made the fuckup that I did.

Thirdly, Ender. Life is damage. We can't avoid it no matter how hard we try. But it's what we do with that damage that counts. The greatest trick I ever learned was this. Invert the negative emotional response caused by damage. You hear people say to themselves all the time "I'll never get married." Many hold true. Because when we become damaged, our brain is temporarily more elastic than usual. As we reform and pull ourselves together, we think of new ideas and they become like cement in our otherwise inflexible mind.

Invert the negative response into a positive one and you can get blown apart again and again, and come out a better, stronger person each time. I know that there's some stuff you can't walk away from, naturally. But for the most part, you can. And that's exactly what you did. You went through your shit. You made it this far. And you didn't come out fucked up like I did.

Fourth, Ender. I might not have died. But the fact is, in your life, you are going to lose people. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but it will come. None of us can avoid it. Your experience with my "death" was as real as any other. So the next time when you take a hit like that, you'll be able to weather it better because of it.

When I got back to this province Ender, I had been here for only about six months when my sister's husband died of a heart attack. She called me at six in the morning. I drove at two hundred kph to catch that fucking ambulance. And I was there with my sister for every step of the way. And I'm still here, helping her through the biggest pain of her life, because I myself carry that pain.

All those people I lost? I'd do it again if it meant that I could weather the death of my brother in law like I did. I didn't buckle or break like I would have in the past. I did what needed to be done. I was the person that needed to be there for my sister because of all those deaths I have behind me. In their own way, all of that shit prepared me.

Your experience with my death brought valid emotions. And some day Ender, you'll have those emotions visit you again, because nobody can dodge death. And you'll be strong enough to weather it in part because of what you experienced with me.

And fifth. You would've mourned for me, no doubt, like a lot of others. When I left Quiet's grave I had no intention of living. I had every intent to die. And out and about in my travels, I did. I blew myself apart mentally, and I fought for years to pull myself back together the best I could. Best I can seem to do is half a person.

I'm emotionally vacant save for a few emotional responses. The very strongest ones I have left. I've been working on trying to get them back. No luck yet. You can hardly call me alive unless my sense of humor is at play or my compassion for others is functioning. For everything else, I'm cold and distant, almost mechanical. I have no care about what happens to me, I have no fear response. What's still keeping me moving are two things.

I made a promise to my significant other after I tried to blow my head off with a shotgun. That I'd never sink so low again. I'd never bend nor break again. And the promise that I made to my brother in law as I took his wedding ring off on the operating table. That I'd protect my sister and niece until I die. That they won't get all the shit I had to go through in my life. That's the job, and nothing else matters.

I've had to change those parameters and take better care of myself. Try to have some fun or hobbies in my life, claw my way back to normalcy inch by inch. But I won't lie to you and tell you that I'm a fully "alive" person. I can't fool myself and pretend that. I'm still fixing myself.

In any case Ender. Those years you spent mattered. They lead you to somebody you care about. They gave you strength and definition, identity. The ability to overcome damage. You almost failed, but you didn't, and you're here now because of that.


E | Ascended Posting Riot
 
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I didn't, Verb. I was already gone by then. I didn't stick around. The moment I and Quiet decided to hit the kill switch, that was it. I spent the last month or so trying to fund him while he died. Worked myself half to death trying to pay for shit with him. Then I just imploded mentally.

On the other note. You're a hundred percent correct Verb. I understand the magnitude of that lie. It's the only major lie I've ever told in my life. And as for smaller lies, the best I've ever been able to do is move around details slightly. (Example, 30 years old as oppossed to 28) My honesty will eat away at me eventually.

It would call all my previous actions into question. And I realize that's the consequence of being a liar. That'd be the price I pay, like anybody else. I didn't come here to get back anybody's trust. And I don't expect it either. But I did want to make things square and settled. You can likely see that, at least. There'd be zero benefit for me to do what I'm doing here and admitting to what I did. But we make fuck ups. Gotta own up to them. Whatever it is I am now, I still believe in standing up to your shit and making it right.

If you want true honesty as to why I came back here, or stayed. I did come back here one night out of curiosity and a bout of loneliness. And then I saw Busta Nut. And then I remembered that I essentially abandoned him in the middle of helping him. And I couldn't do it. I couldn't just turn away.

And in truth Verb, I call a lot of my own previous actions into question because I know that there's gaps in my memories. Believe me or no. Out on the road on my travels I took some major hits in confrontations with people. You don't take a pipe wrench to the side of the head and walk it off. Something breaks. There's names here that I know that I know, but I can't remember any details about them. Even you. I know we had a lot of interactions. But I remember very little. I also have various diagnosed conditions working against me as well. I've discovered over the years that my traumas have actually warped my memories. I've been spending time finding out what's real and what's not. I question myself as much as any of you would be questioning me.

But I know my intent at least. I'm here to fix my fuckup. And to say hello again because I missed all of you greatly. Outside of all of my deceased circles of friends or family, you people were and in some way still are my family, to me at least.


E | Ascended Posting Riot
 
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Not a good way to do it, but it worked, I guess. If I had no other options, would've done it again. I'd owe Verbatim an apology though. "I" talked to him a fair bit before being deceased. Fact was, Quiet had my account logins. Did all the writing for me. He needed some company too. I wasn't there all the time for him since I was trying to help cover his medical expenses. No Tru, not good, nor interesting.


So wait

Would it mean that a fair bit of my interactions with you was actually with him?

Decent chance, yes. The man was a master mimic both in writing and voice acting. Could've been a voice actor. Probably helped that he knew me so well though. As I told Verb though. I know I'm missing shit. I could try to verify whom was whom for you, but I don't know to what extent.


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And on that note, because cosmic humor. There's an unidentified infection inflaming my heart, which is causing it to be so weak lately alongside my body's odd failure to absorb iron and b-12. Today the hospital gave me a two week quarantine paper in case I got the rare strain of cooties that targets people's hearts. So I'm fucking stuck on my tired ass for two weeks or until I get the test results back. At least I'll have some company with you lot.


 
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Goodness gracious, great balls of lightning!
IT'S TIME FOR YOU TO LOOK INWARD AND START ASKING YOURSELF THE BIG QUESTION: WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT DO YOU WANT?


 
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"With the first link, the chain is forged. The first speech censured, the first thought forbidden, the first freedom denied, chains us all irrevocably."
—Judge Aaron Satie
——Carmen
All this text I skimmed through but nothing about Class ugh


 
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"With the first link, the chain is forged. The first speech censured, the first thought forbidden, the first freedom denied, chains us all irrevocably."
—Judge Aaron Satie
——Carmen
IT'S TIME FOR YOU TO LOOK INWARD AND START ASKING YOURSELF THE BIG QUESTION: WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT DO YOU WANT?

legend post


MarKhan | Legendary Invincible!
 
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It's funny. Many of the E posts I've read I've thought to myself, "This sounds like Sandtrap."
You could notice it earlier when E said that he uses Garry Mod for art.
No, I mean I've been thinking this for months.
Yeah, me too.


 
DAS B00T x2
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This is not the greatest sig in the world, no. This is just a tribute.

Not a good way to do it, but it worked, I guess. If I had no other options, would've done it again. I'd owe Verbatim an apology though. "I" talked to him a fair bit before being deceased. Fact was, Quiet had my account logins. Did all the writing for me. He needed some company too. I wasn't there all the time for him since I was trying to help cover his medical expenses. No Tru, not good, nor interesting.


So wait

Would it mean that a fair bit of my interactions with you was actually with him?

Decent chance, yes. The man was a master mimic both in writing and voice acting. Could've been a voice actor. Probably helped that he knew me so well though. As I told Verb though. I know I'm missing shit. I could try to verify whom was whom for you, but I don't know to what extent.
nah, you good man. Though I am a little curious, which of you guys was it that wrote that last batch of PM's to everyone?


E | Ascended Posting Riot
 
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Not a good way to do it, but it worked, I guess. If I had no other options, would've done it again. I'd owe Verbatim an apology though. "I" talked to him a fair bit before being deceased. Fact was, Quiet had my account logins. Did all the writing for me. He needed some company too. I wasn't there all the time for him since I was trying to help cover his medical expenses. No Tru, not good, nor interesting.


So wait

Would it mean that a fair bit of my interactions with you was actually with him?

Decent chance, yes. The man was a master mimic both in writing and voice acting. Could've been a voice actor. Probably helped that he knew me so well though. As I told Verb though. I know I'm missing shit. I could try to verify whom was whom for you, but I don't know to what extent.
nah, you good man. Though I am a little curious, which of you guys was it that wrote that last batch of PM's to everyone?

I would imagine that would've been me, but Quiet might've spliced some things in. He and I talked quite a bit about the various people that I did want to say something to. I'd've wanted to say some sort of goodbyes before I pulled the plug. Along with the various written messages distributed afterwards by Quiet. He took a lot of unnecessary effort to try and tie ends up the best he could before he took his own bow out.

Even though I didn't have cancer, I do have my own medical conditions. Under hyper stress and exhaustion my heart weakens extremely, and slows everything down quite a bit. Declining mental health combined with the fact that I was both hyper stressed and exhausted made me a shambling mess on both fronts.


E | Ascended Posting Riot
 
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All this text I skimmed through but nothing about Class ugh

I've been stalling on that. Memory's dim but you're not the person that you were when I left. I don't have any moral high ground to call you out on. But if half the rubbish you've been posting here is true since I've reappeared here, it means that in one respect we're critically different. I've been trying to repair myself and own up to all of my shit. You haven't. You've gotten worse in some respects and you dodge on account of claiming to be eccentric.

My time spent travelling has given me immense disdain for drug users, since I've had scenarios that could've ended my life as a result of being attacked by junkies. I've had to do awful things to defend myself in those situations, things I'd hoped never to do in my life. Many of the friends I've lost happened to be because of drug users.

But I know that under some circumstances, it's hard to blame a drug user, because shit affects us all in different ways. My travelling companion, Sarah. She was a drug user and yet I stayed with her even as her habits demanded more money and her addictions got worse. I stayed by her until her death. Did my best to try and help her, but there are some circles people don't have the strength to break.

Drug dealers on the other hand, if I were given a weapon or just my hands and confirmation of who they were and permission to do it, I'd kill without a second thought. Making the profit that they do on the destruction and lives they destroy directly or indirectly, warrents that their lives cease.

Besides the point. I can't read between the lines with you anymore, so I take your quirks for what they are. Signs that you can't break your respective circles and mental traps. I stay away from those people because I know how dangerous they are. They'll pull you down with them.

I've no beef with you so long as you live your life and you're content. But beyond that there's nothing else unless I see something to the contrary that marks you differently.
Last Edit: December 13, 2020, 08:52:30 AM by E


Zonda | Mythic Inconceivable!
 
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‘The most inoffensive user on this website’ - Verbatim
I wish you’d timed the fake death a few months earlier/later, but glad to see you’re alive regardless.


 
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"With the first link, the chain is forged. The first speech censured, the first thought forbidden, the first freedom denied, chains us all irrevocably."
—Judge Aaron Satie
——Carmen
I mean, that's fair. But look at my Hanukkah thread. I'm progressing my life, even with the occasional delve into DXM. I haven't touched hard drugs at all and have no reason to (my bf would kill me if I did anyway lol) so yeah. I'm not really the person you think I am. I'm sorry you've had such a hard life, sincerely. I wish that I could've helped you.


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I wish you’d timed the fake death a few months earlier/later, but glad to see you’re alive regardless.

I wish I'd never done it all. I know your name and I know that it's got pleasant connotation to it, but I don't have any real concrete instances of conversations in memory. How did I hurt you?(apart from the obvious)


E | Ascended Posting Riot
 
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I mean, that's fair. But look at my Hanukkah thread. I'm progressing my life, even with the occasional delve into DXM. I haven't touched hard drugs at all and have no reason to (my bf would kill me if I did anyway lol) so yeah. I'm not really the person you think I am. I'm sorry you've had such a hard life, sincerely. I wish that I could've helped you.

Don't jump on that wishing to have helped train. Goes nowhere. I left because I was the only one who could help myself. You read these?

C-PTSD
Severe long term depression
Acute trauma or what they'd nickname a "moral wound"
Emotional Numbness/Distancing
Low levels of dissociative disorder

None of you here could have helped me with any of that. And wishing doesn't get anybody very far other than pleasant sentiment. Clearly I'm not foolproof in my judgements and because of the way I am now I usually backtrack a lot to verify if I'm right and not fooling myself. Don't bother feeling sorry for me because it wastes time and accomplishes nothing. At any rate, just live your life, be happy, and do your best not to fuck other people's lives up. We can be square at that rate.


E | Ascended Posting Riot
 
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I was thinking about something last night Verb. I don't expect anybody here to trust me or to even treat me as I was considering the magnitude of what I did. But I'd like you to ponder something for me. My significant other was an audiophile. She taught me everything that I know about music, and how to use it to create a miniature high without taking drugs. You lose yourself in the music but your emotions blend into it. And you use that bind as a tool of raw expression to create art by impulse without thinking.

My SO died when I was twenty. It took me six years to utter a single word to anybody about her loss. And I was only able to do it after I created this piece of work. The very first piece of artwork I ever truly created Verb.

Spoiler

I don't know of your ability to read into artwork. But it was one of the toughest things I'd ever done. I went straight to the core of the pain I carried, all the way to the bottom of it, and I pulled this out. Just a fraction of what I felt when I knew that she was gone. But that pain ties itself to the rest of the shit I carried in me.

You can question my actions, you can question what I say, but I think, Verb, no matter what, I could not create this if I were a normal person. If I didn't carry this pain, and these events in my history, this wouldn't manifest itself. As well as being one of the only hobbies I have left, I am using my art to quantify and discover things about myself. With every one that I make, I sit back and I study it, and then I understand what it is and a bit more of whom I am.

I don't expect trust but I won't turn away from what I know is true. I'm fucked deeply, and I'm trying to fix it.


E | Ascended Posting Riot
 
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Verb. I know you don't like quote trains. But you put the honest statement to words about trustworthyness on my part. Nuka's been doing some digging and asked me about the tumor. It stretches backwards to about 2014. My memories are extremely dim that far back, but I can tell you what I know for absolute certainty in the name of transparancy and to correct things.

The tumor was probably my first unassisted attempt to create distance. Tumor was not real but there was a lot of concern about brain clots since my vitals were massively erratic.  I was going through major health issues during the time, same as I am now, being my weakened heart. But I was cracking apart mentally. My SO died when I was twenty, so if that puts my math right, she died either in 2012, or 2013. I took more hits and losses as other people died as well.

As I'd discussed in great detail with docs, and my brother in law when I eventually opened up to him. I was exposed to death very early on in childhood. Several incidents that left their mark. The problem was that it kept happening to me. I think for perhaps every year of my life there's been a death. When Melissa died, it shattered me inside. And death kept happening. I responded worse and worse, since now all of that pain was linked.

As I've said within the thread. Immense trauma, to the extent that it warps my memories and destroyed my personality piece by piece in combination with the other baggage. I did not have the actual physical capacity to cry out for help after Melissa died, and I tried to write, but I couldn't take the pain or the stress. I knew that I was fucked back then too, so in my own way I was trying what I could to unfuck myself.

Memories past a certain point are very hard for me to remember. It's because I know that on some level my mind's blocked a lot of the worse events in my life. And I think, because there's so much that's happened. I've lifetimes of experiences crammed into only 28 years. It's like trying to wade through an explosion. This is then, another ghost we can put to rest, partially. At least have it out in the open.



E | Ascended Posting Riot
 
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Wanted to mention you, but you've shown no questions nor grievances. It's nice to see you again, even if I can't remember fuck all. Glad you're still doing art. And I saw at one point that you listened to Ozric. Here I thought I was the only one.


Aether | Mythic Invincible!
 
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Long live NoNolesNeckin.

Ya fuckin' ganderneck.

Wanted to mention you, but you've shown no questions nor grievances. It's nice to see you again, even if I can't remember fuck all. Glad you're still doing art. And I saw at one point that you listened to Ozric. Here I thought I was the only one.
I don't really let things on the net get to me that much. I have more pressing irl problems to worry about. Though, it is a little sad that I haven't really become very close with anyone from here or any other forum I've frequented due to avoiding getting very emotionally invested.

I've listened to Ozric Tentacles for years. My dad used to play them when I was a kid back in his jam band days.


Zonda | Mythic Inconceivable!
 
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‘The most inoffensive user on this website’ - Verbatim
I wish I'd never done it all. I know your name and I know that it's got pleasant connotation to it, but I don't have any real concrete instances of conversations in memory. How did I hurt you?(apart from the obvious)
Not that you had any control or awareness of this, but I had a friend pass away a week before I saw the thread announcing your death.

You and I were never super close, but I did like seeing you around. It was sad to see you go and it was a pretty fucked up time for the reason mentioned above.


E | Ascended Posting Riot
 
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I wish I'd never done it all. I know your name and I know that it's got pleasant connotation to it, but I don't have any real concrete instances of conversations in memory. How did I hurt you?(apart from the obvious)
Not that you had any control or awareness of this, but I had a friend pass away a week before I saw the thread announcing your death.

You and I were never super close, but I did like seeing you around. It was sad to see you go and it was a pretty fucked up time for the reason mentioned above.

Even at that rate then Zonda, I am deeply as sorry that I can be for doing that to you.

Morally I broke pretty much everything I ever stood for with that act. Not excusable even in the state that I was. I've told others here, but I think it should be said. Whatever the connections were that I shared with you or others, be it friendly or just irrelevant passerby, I can't express just how much it means to recognize names here, or to see anybody here at all. That people here are still alive, or going places in their lives, or on some level that they're doing okay. I'm still trying to quantify some of the things that happened to me on my trip. The shit I saw or on some levels the shit I did to stay alive. Just that you're here, just, thank you.


 
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"With the first link, the chain is forged. The first speech censured, the first thought forbidden, the first freedom denied, chains us all irrevocably."
—Judge Aaron Satie
——Carmen
You've been through a lot. Much more than I've been through.Your experiences are my fears, honestly. I just want to be safe, liked, and entertained. My biggest fear is being kidnapped and put into a cell for some sex slave dungeon for the rest of my life, where I haven't made enough connections beforehand to make people remember me or try to save me. If I don't make those connections now, if I don't make myself significant now, then I'll be just another sack of meat rotting away somewhere.

Human connections are all that matter in this world. I've used drugs to foster an ambiance of goodwill and humanity to everyone I've met. I don't do them that often these days. They were just training wheels, and now I'm good on my own.

All of this to say - people aren't just what you think of them. People will always surprise you, and they can change in miraculous ways.
Last Edit: December 13, 2020, 10:18:22 PM by SecondClass


E | Ascended Posting Riot
 
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You've been through a lot. Much more than I've been through.Your experiences are my fears, honestly. I just want to be safe, liked, and entertained. My biggest fear is being kidnapped and put into a cell for some sex slave dungeon for the rest of my life, where I haven't made enough connections beforehand to make people remember me or try to save me. If I don't make those connections now, if I don't make myself significant now, then I'll be just another sack of meat rotting away somewhere.

Human connections are all that matter in this world. I've used drugs to foster an ambiance of goodwill and humanity to everyone I've met. I don't do them that often these days. They were just training wheels, and now I'm good on my own.

All of this to say - people aren't just what you think of them. People will always surprise you, and they can change in miraculous ways.

I don't think that invalidates anything on your part. Saying that "you've been through more" isn't fair. There's always people who've been through more. I meet them all the time. Some less, some more, I don't think it matters really because it all amounts to being baggage for another individual. There's people who went through more than I and they did not break. I did. And I try to correct that. I met a lot of people on the road. Too much bad shit. But you see good people in equal spades too. Many of them just trying to live their lives in peace, not bothering anybody.

In the last year that I spent in Victoria before I came back here, I went for a walk in one of the less reputable parks on a rainy day. That city's had a growing problem with migrating homeless tent cities and a new drug that's emerged in the last few years. Don't remember the name. Highly potent, can kill on skin contact in any dose higher than some like 2mg.

I walked through the park and I saw this guy sleeping under a tree in a sleeping bag, all his traveling shit sprawled out around him. Homeless. But I didn't like his posture. So I checked him out and noted how pale his face was until I got closer and noted that his eyes were just open, staring out. Say something, no response. Checked his pulse, dark purple veins. I called the authorities and tried to jumpstart his heart. And I just sat there for hours in the rain, waiting. And nobody came. Of course they wouldn't. No city has an adequately staffed medical response team for that amount of people.

I just sat there with him, thinking about everything that may have led him up to that point. I thought about my travelling companion for half of my trip. My gaming buddies who started on the easy stuff, went hard, failed rehab twice, and then OD'd. Then I sat round and pondered myself. Why I seem to keep crossing paths with this. Why for whatever reasons I keep being able to stand back up and keep trying, or why I always seem to be the last person standing, like I'm just cursed or some kind of fucked up witness.

Plain reality is that it's life. Massive dynamic system in which we make choices that ripple and effect everything and everybody. It does not target people but we can roll unfair hands in our own ways. How we cope comes to be our choice if we're aware of it. You are correct in that people change.

I lost three more people this year. I did not break this time. Did what I needed to, and then I processed it and let it hit me proper. I got back here just in time to be the person that my sister and niece needed me to be when my brother in law died. He himself spent a lot of time trying to fix my sorry ass up. And for many years I neglected his help because of my solitary untrusting nature until eventually I caved and trusted him. Many mistakes made. Perhaps more on the road ahead, depending on how I fix myself. I guess it's every individual's respective torch to bear.

The connections with people are all that matters, really. Why I came back here. I still carry the connections to all the dead behind me, friends or lovers, family, random people. They have never broken even though I did. So too do I have connections here. I owe a debt for the time spent here in good company, and for what I did to those that actually cared about me.

Realizing that people care about me and feeling it are one of the emotions and things I struggle immensely with. I can do it before a few seconds before I go cold again. My significant other was the only person who was intelligent enough to rip through all of my armour and protection that I'd built up in childhood and from traumas, see who I was and light up my world.

I know that people here cared about me, and when that small doorway opens that I can register it, it burns me that I hurt them so badly. I can't undo that. But I can carry it and make sure that it does not happen again. Best I can do, even if it does not make amends.

If you have made strides, then it makes me happy to know that. Shouldn't let your fears own you, though. Fear can either be unfounded or self destructive. In some part fear is what landed me here as I am now. Too much talk though. I'll leave it for now. Just don't make the mistakes I made.


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I know that I said I'd call it. I'm quarantined in my camper currently. Can't haunt a coffee shop tonight. It's just, shit hits me Class. I've my sister and one close friend out here that I made since coming back. I tell them some stuff. But I don't want to tell them some stuff. They just need to know that I'm here and fixing myself up.

I spent the bulk of my time over in British Columbia. I crossed Canada very quickly. Much faster when my traveling companion died. I just wanted to get as far away from Quebec as possible, and cross the awful space of manitoba through alberta. One of my jobs in BC was working in a big walmart as a stock jockey on the loading bay. I got to know a lot of people there. Many wonderful people. There was this woman who worked the doors. Older woman. I didn't know her well.

I was passing through one of the districts one day when I saw smoke. Went to investigate. Apartment caught fire on the higher levels. Up on the top level, there was a woman. Fire crews spread out on the bottom with a net, telling her to jump. She was too scared. She screaming about her cats. And she caught fire. Polyester clothing melting to skin, hair fusing to skin and burning, and the screaming. I tried Class. I tried so hard. I wanted to climb the balconies and try even with the heat and the fire. I had the physical strength to do it but I got stopped by the officers. And I thought, God please, just let me try. I didn't even know it was the woman that I worked with. I learned about it two weeks later when they were talking in the staff room. I just wish I could've helped them. Stop their pain.

I listen to people quite a bit. And I'm just lost when they talk about their petty grievances. Or stupid shit with their families or neighbors that could all be solved if they just smartened the fuck up and saw what life was, how short it is, how it can be ripped from you without remorse at any time. And then it's too late for you to apologize for what a fucking asshole you were.


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Haven't slept easy for a few years now. I talk about traumas Class. The woman in the fire that I told you about. She just hit me as I was writing to you. I'd forgotten about her, and then just like that, something triggered the memory. Couldn't sleep so I did some digging, to know if whether it was real or not. I got the stress response at least. Felt like my heart was going to explode and couldn't steady my hands. Judith Burke was her name.

https://www.cheknews.ca/coroner-confirms-death-of-woman-in-esquimalt-apartment-fire-550351/

https://www.cheknews.ca/friend-identifies-victim-of-fatal-esquimalt-apartment-fire-550812/

My older memories are more susceptible to being warped but this was fresh enough to pinpoint quickly. Sometimes things are warped and sometimes they're hidden, and they show up for me like this. When I left here all those years ago I'd have shit like this happen to me too.

That I can work through it without breaking down, that I'm able to speak about it now, at least. As I iterated more than once already. I know I'm deeply fucked. It doesn't make what I did right in any capacity. I just needed to find a way to save myself from things like this before it killed me and I made poor choices to do it.

I wasn't expecting to turn this thread into a mess for having shit bleed out of me like this. But I guess if it helps me work through some things, so be it. I just earnestly hope that in whatever way that I can, I can rectify things for the people here whom I hurt when I left.


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Need some time to process what hit me last night. Just wanted to write something to you before I take a break.

Thoughts on being significant. I could speculate that you had shit parents. Neglectful ones. Not enough love given, and what was given was warped. But that's besides the point currently. You have to ask yourself what being significant truly means. If your goal is to be "significant" you've set an unattainable goal unless you define what that significance means to you. And no matter how significant you become, no matter how high you climb, death will render you insignificant.

In a generation, the people who knew you closest will be dead. The memory of what you were will fade. And a thousand years from now, there will be no memory of you. However. What will be left behind are your actions. Even if nobody can see them, they'll ripple forwards forever, causing little shifts in people and events until time as we understand it ceases to function and our universe theoretically dies.

I find in all the people that I've seen Class, fear is a self fullfilling prophecy. You ever watch somebody who's nervous? "Oh I'll fuck up I just know it." Boom. They fuck up. They made that. The specifics of your fears likely won't happen.

But I can see a pattern in how you operate. You fear of irrelevancy manifests here in your quirks. And it appears that a lot of people here avoid or dislike you because of your need to seek attention and fill a void. In that sense, the harder you try to push to become relevant, the more people will turn away from you. Your fear makes your own prison, and it makes a cycle.

There's intricacies to life that I'd like to talk about here to you, but it delves into metaphysics. It delves into what some of the druggies see when they get high. Into patterns of life that start to happen when you recognize them. But to most here, I'd sound like a loon, or a flaky eccentric. And I need to sort what's currently eating me, which is the memory of that woman on the balcony. So I take my leave. Think about things. Can't hurt.

Just be safe, is all.


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I was thinking about what you said. Debating on PMs or here. I think I prefer here. Anybody curious enough to wander through can see if they wish. You said it was a good thing I was alive.

I know it's a terrible line of thought to travel, but a lot of times I don't think it is a good thing that I'm alive Verb. Would've been mercy if something got me out on the road. Perhaps even now. Although I have my responsibilities to attend to that I'd never abandon. Maybe if you're part wise spirtual you'd coin it as karma. I might. Paying my dues for what was done perhaps. I listed the conditions that I have elsewhere here. Endless hours dumped in with multiple proffessionals in different provinces to the same conclusions because I wanted to verify it for certain.

I'm still partially stuck in my own hell. A day is a marathon for me. I have to think constantly otherwise I count the agonizing seconds. Only benefit to that is my ability to process things, at least. It may be why my emotional responses are so stunted now. They're gone quickly. But it is hell.

I measure very carefully what I say to people, because I know how much of a maze my head is. I do in earnest value being forward and honest. But how can I do that if my own memories work against me? I've become much more open to people since I traveled, but at the same time I'm very reclusive because I don't trust myself.

The dissappointment I have when I find out that I've duped myself.... which could by extension extend to a friend or colleague that I never wanted to deceive. My sense of humor is quite active around people, but sit me in a room and I go cold. For the months that I've been working in the places that I have, all the time they ask me what's wrong when they catch me alone, because I always look so distant and concerned.

Little things out of the blue can set off memories. I could break down crying onto the floor while I stock shelves and manage freight. And I have to fight that off, stop and calm the stress response, and then question if what's hit me is real. Some days are better than others. Some days are smooth, and I feel a bit more like myself. My humor would mention karma. Biggest lie I ever told results in me coming back not knowing exactly whom I am. Humor in that. It's just. I'm sorry Verb. I mean that as much as I possibly can.



 
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"With the first link, the chain is forged. The first speech censured, the first thought forbidden, the first freedom denied, chains us all irrevocably."
—Judge Aaron Satie
——Carmen
God, that's awful, about the woman you saw. I won't say I can even relate to that, because I can't. That's like something you see in the movies. It makes me feel so privileged to hear this. Here's me, watching all this media, trying to goad myself into being thrilled/scared. Here's me, when that's not enough - using drugs to make that thrill more real. And it's not just the thrill - it's just that on my drug, everything is BIGGER. If you'd normally see something that would make you sad, it's heartbreaking and devastating on my drug. If you'd normally be enthralled by a storyline, you're addicted and engrossed and immersed to it on my drug. When something is good, it's SO good. When something is wrong, it feels like the world is ending.

And that's all self-imposed. I feel like a spoiled loser when I read posts like yours. It doesn't matter that I grew up in poverty, with an abusive stepfather and a deranged mother. I had a home. I had a roof. I had so many opportunities to help others in real life, and didn't. I used media and escapism to rectify myself. Online, I built communities, helped people, saved people. But no matter how much empathy I have for others, I always glorify myself first. I recognize that, and it really makes me sick sometimes. It's a coping device, because if I don't believe in myself no one will. I need to build myself up, I need to build my image up. I don't have delusions of grandeur - I know that I'm nothing special. But I need to convince myself and others around me otherwise.

I want to do more than just live. I don't wrestle with fears all the time. Normally I'm just trying to entertain myself and distract myself from the realities that face me. I'm in such a good position but I still feel like nothing. You haven't let me down. You're a much better person than I am. Your struggles have made you resilient, and even if they make you go a little crazy, as long as you have a foot in reality then I think you're fine. I care a lot about you, and I care a lot about everyone I've talked to.

I started as a Walter White type of person - manipulative, telling people bullshit to get what I want. Telling people lie after lie so I could chase the thrill of what made me happy. And only caring about myself.

Right now I'm more of a Hilda type of person - reckless to a fault, self-assured, selfish, and empathetic. I want to let people in on my amazing, dangerous world, I want to share it everyone. I feel like I have it all under control. Sometimes I slip up, but it's not out of malice. I fix my mistakes. I own up to my faults. I have the soul of an adventurer, and I want to see and experience more than what I have right now. But that's not always possible. That can hurt others. I know it can, and yet I do it anyway because I think that I have what it takes. And maybe I do.

I eventually want to be a Dale Cooper type of person -  a selfless, non-judgmental hero. A person who always talks straight to people, and can get away with it because there's nothing but pure love in their heart. I want to be the kind of person that others can rely on, that others can trust, and that others can genuinely like. Day to day life takes a lot out of me, but I'm seriously trying to be the best person that I can be in this fucked up world. I try to see the best in people, but I also have to be reasonable and pragmatic. I never want to give up on anyone. Everyone, always, can change and be redeemed.

I love you, whoever you are. I hope you find what you're looking for with this board. I'm here if you ever need to talk to me. I can't always guarantee a speedy response, but I won't ever leave you hanging.
Last Edit: December 14, 2020, 10:41:43 PM by SecondClass


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It's strange to hear that if I think about it. Wanting to do more than just live. I mean I get it. But I'm standing on the other side of the fence where most things are empty to me. And some days, for a little while, I can sit back and recognize just "living" with no extras added on. It can be amazing, actually. There's a lot of dead trees out at my property. I could use a chainsaw to cut them down, but out of principle I use an axe to do it. It's exhausting. But I need to gauge how the tree is going to fall and I've got to make the axe strikes accurate so that it falls the way I need it to. It's mundane. I think a lot of people would find it difficult, boring, pointless. Considering all the skills and strength needed to do it, I find it remarkable when I pull it off. I think there's got to be a balance to life. Recognition of what we have around us already. But enough to keep us excited so that we don't stagnate.

That woman. Terrible, yes. I think that doesn't do it justice though. I don't have a word for those screams. Probably can't black them out now that the memory's surfaced either. But I quantified it today, broke it down for what it was. I was there. I did what I could. I tried, at least, like some of the other people there. That was enough, I think. All we can do is try. But she's(theoretically) out of the picture now. No worries about being on fire. I'm still here though, carrying that. So I let those emotions hit me today. And then that's it. They hit me, and I'm here now. The trick is to look forwards and not get stuck on dwelling, which is what I did years ago when I internalized everything. I got nowhere until it all pulled me down.

I'm unsure if I expect or expected to gain anything by coming back here other than the reason to make things square for the wrong that I did. This batch of talking here is the most I've done in three years. I don't think I'll keep it up, considering how busy I am or the plans I have to work on normally. If I had to guess, when the dust settles here, and I'm done talking to the people that would like to talk to me, I'll be quieter and more of a passerby. Although there's people here I'd like to keep in touch with, only if they want to, of course.

But I think doing what I'm doing here is another small piece in putting myself back together. I don't think I could stomach putting myself back together in full years down the line and have what I did here sitting on the back of my mind. So I asked who I wanted to be, and I said that I wanted to be honest above all else.

Thanks for the offer Class. I'll keep thinking about things.