Separate names with a comma.
So I was talking to Neve earlier this morning, having come into a conversation about Neve taking kintype drawing requests. Seemed harmless enough, right?
But then it comes to the time where I have to look up screenshots for reference. Being a FPS game (and the graphic novel being off in some places), I have to sift through a lot of them.
But then it got round to some of Vivian, and even from behind I wept, heartbroken, lonely. I've never wanted someone's company more than I did in that minute.
And man was it unexpected.
I find it slightly funny because I'd been warned about this, back when I mentioned the soundtrack. I'd been warned that my grip, my stability wasn't as correct as I thought it was. With this, maybe he was right, because even now I find myself in the situation of 'if I play, I'm going to be hit with a ton of emotions...'.
And somehow I don't think I can explain to my parents why I'm sat in the front room bawling my eyes out over a fictional character... And then raging over others... And then experiencing much stronger familiarity than before...
Maybe things will mellow out over the next few days. I wish I hadn't lost my save data for my first playthrough... I'm not desperate to play, I just tend to go in cycles when it comes to gaming.
... Which is probably why I'm sat here waiting for LoL to download...
Okay, so last night I had this dream that has stuck in my head since and still leaves me shaken.
It was so realistic, so vivid that I could feel so much about it.
It'd have been an interesting dream had it not been one where I was being strangled into unconsciousness...
There was this small dark gray room, maybe dimly lit by some lighting above, something was faintly buzzing, just myself and one other person there.
I bet by now all I'd need is to mention the word 'jackass' and it's obvious as to who I have a clear idea of...
Whether I was at his mercy or not... Certainly didn't take too well to whatever I'd said before.
Their hands around my neck, my lungs and face burning from the strain, pulse pounding in my ears, vision blurring and flashing and getting increasingly disorientated. My movement consisted of just scrabbling and clawing weakly at them in some attempt to free myself, in panic. Maybe by the end I was close to just giving up, just feeling waves of defeat running through.
If anything was said, I didn't hear it. Some sneer, some insult, it was lost.
But dear god was the room filled with fury.
Wow, it's been around a year since I started looking into tulpamancy...
Anyway, during that time I had somehow started to want to make another tulpa, I let my mind wander whilst I was at work and it seemed to settle on showing a view of a much older (around 50-ish) grey-haired man dressed in formal clothing stood behind me.
Somehow the name Magnus stuck, and the feeling I got surrounding him was he was more an advisor, someone to look at the bigger picture. He gave a sense of hope, slowed everything down. I could trick myself into thinking he was holding me, and it always seemed to get better. Just knowing he was there seemed to make things slightly better.
But then time passed and my mind switched again, although I did end up with a character based on Magnus...
Last night, as I was just sat there, Magnus came back, just stood there and acknowledged my wonderland presence in his fondness. And I feel like I've missed him, like I owe it to him this time, but I don't think he'd ever hold me to blame.
I got asked today if I remembered anything before canon events. Thinking on it, I knew something was there, but in that moment I couldn't grasp it, no matter how I tried to block out everything else. But then it hit me hard later, in almost sudden realisation.
I was unemployed for a long time, and right now how I gained my reputation escapes me. There's always been something about the smell of burning electrics that gave off a familiar wave... Anyway, I think I was... Well-off enough to not starve every night, so I must have had some kind of reputation at the time.
Then at around mid-afternoon, some guy I felt I knew just turned up. The darkest brown eyes and the darkest brown hair cut to an inch short, always in such an infectious good mood. Almost always in all-black if he could help it, but such casual dress.
How close of a friend he was was much to be desired, but he could drive and I couldn't, so it was a bonus. He was dressed so casually it was almost funny, like he really didn't care anymore, whatever made it comfortable I guess. I never got a name for him, I feel like I should have. I feel like something happened to him, but deep down he is still out there somewhere.
I know we jokingly used the term 'contractor' to describe him, because it loosely fit what he did. 'A friend of a friend of a friend' was who had offered it, so maybe in some way they were connected to LeFey or the Black Order, who knows. I wish I had at the time...
So, there's always been this room layout I've seen in my head briefly at times. It's been with me since I was around 13/14, this same still image layout, and has been sharpening over that time.
It had what seemed like dark wood-panelled walls and a huge 6x6 pane glass window that seemed to stretch from floor to ceiling, the office floored by some godawful dark green carpet. Smelt like dust, of antiques, although none were fully on display. Shame.
I recall standing slightly off-centre, almost directly opposite between LeFey and Vivian, maybe it gave a better vantage point. It was so bright and sunny outside, but I saw barely any created shadow so I don't know what direction the sunlight was coming from, most likely from behind and high in the sky.
Vivian didn't look impressed at all, probably held me in the lowest regard possible, just watching me as if to say 'what the hell makes you so special?'
LeFey didn't seem to even care at that point, just nodded in his brief acknowledgment. It made me wonder at the time just how much money he was tempted to throw at this thing, and it just made me even more sure of myself. Easy job, easy money.
The third memory, I hold dear, I hold so dear because of who and what it contains I'm reluctant to share it here so publicly even to our fine members. I will only share this under being asked, as for all it holds.
Why must you torture me so? Remind me of all that was left behind, both good times and the bad, leave me stuck in this solid loop of loneliness.
Even now, after all this time, your cries resonate in my head until I'm left in my own misery, even though I know deep down you were never harmed by what happened. You make me feel so old by writing this, the sheer fact that I can't let you go no matter what timeline would have taken place, no matter the outcome. It was so easy to read you, although here and now I seem to have to learn that fine skill all over again.
Even in the beginning, it was so clear what you thought. Maybe that was because of all those years you spent working for LeFey, I don't really know. I thought we'd never go anywhere further than just neutral acknowledgement, but over instances that neutrality started to turn into mutual respect. From there, I know it went so much further, but I'll be damned if I can remember it. Like a cruel joke really, as if being here wasn't bad enough.
He used us both, but you're smart enough to know that. Used you to get to me, used me to get to you. I should have killed him when I had the chance in that chopper crash. Hindsight is a wonderful thing, but in the end it was probably for the best that he survived, a means to every end. Now things will never go back to the way they were, even if they do try their hardest to start it over again.
The things you did for me.
The things I do for you.
I'll most likely continue this later. I'm sure there's a lot more to add.
Might as well just leave everything here. Not like I'm expecting a reply or anything.
That'd be the day.
I really hate hindsight. The joy of looking back over everything and going 'I shouldn't have done that/I could have done so much more' multiple times. But in the end, there really wasn't much choice. Even with instinct screaming against it from every angle.
Yes, this was partly my fault. A serious statement, but you somehow managed to make it sound lighter. Even in the heat of an argument. We shouldn't have trusted them, but by then we were in too deep to refuse.
You used to hate being called that, then called it slightly more tolerable and didn't complain as much.
It was all planned, wasn't it? Everything seemed to fall somehow, whether it was meant to or not. LeFey soon planned to adapt, to make the best of everything. Anger, fear, betrayal - all those seemed to reign in that one moment, coursed through both noise and silence. There was always a plan.
Maybe you had it all planned out as well, trying to find an end to all of it.
I don't know who was worse, or if they're as bad as each other. LeFey, to this day, seemed to consider himself more honourable, and in my short experience was less of a jackass... They both seemed nuts to begin with though.
In addition to what I wrote about in Charias's group (Some strange experiences), I did some thinking.
Now, this may just turn out to be one big list, so here goes
- Where do I even start... When I first played Legendary, I got heavily into it and could very easily refer to myself and respond as him, but my parents kinda... Forced me to bury it deep down because they thought I was going crazy. But for those few weeks/months, it felt so familiar, so natural (to the point where I have responded to the name of Deckard being yelled in my direction at times). I know I was interested in mythology and electronics back then, still am now, but don't know if that's much giveaway.
- As stated an earlier blog entry, for some reason, I've always hated my arm hairs, more so the ones covering my left arm, and sometimes out of nowhere I'd pull them out with my teeth. So not only was it uneven, I couldn't always get every one. I do it with my right arm as well, but not so much. So today I thought of this being enough, and just completely shaved my lower forearm. Like, halfway down my forearm, no higher, for some odd reason. And it feels so nice. I have done this before, years ago, and my parents told me it looked weird, so I never did it again until now, easier than gnawing at them constantly.
- In regards to memories, I do have a few but from this nature I'm unsure if they can even be regarded as such, more like quick flashes that have barely anything to do with the events in-game. Not saying that all of them are centred around Vivian, but... Otherwise they are before the game, or at some point within it, just incredibly short flashes.
- Rare mental and phantom shifts, even though the majority right now have happened since these three years have passed, I am aware they can quite easily be dismissed. One that seemed to hit harder than most was when I was just sat there bare armed and as calm as anything, to sudden sheer panic and pulling on my jacket as to wait for any other alarm to go up.
- I could easily ramble on and on about Vivian. Like... Pages worth if I squeezed out everything I felt and thought. But I don't have time for pages here. Even before the game, I had some kind of draw to the name, and in my head I'd kinda already had some kind of image in my head to associate with a name, since I'm better with faces than I am with names. Although now when I think about it, upon seeing Vivian for the first time I did recognise her, which was nice. To the point where at the first instance I heard her voice over the headset, I went 'I know that voice'. Then the moments come now where I miss her deeply, where I want nothing more than her company, whether this was just company or whether my own thoughts that something was going to, or had already, happened between us in some form. Heh, see what I mean about it being so natural from my own perspective? It's odd. Anyway, during those moments I feel such a sense of loneliness that can't be lifted even with other people physically around me, to the point where I've almost been in tears over the sheer feeling.
- With my hatred of Lexington, he just kinda... Confirmed my dislike of him when he first opened his mouth in-game. He was the kind of guy who set your guard up instantly, had a holier-than-thou attitude, that he deserved to be treated so much better than those around him. He used people to his advantage, whether this was members of the Council or even Vivian herself. Which you can imagine is part of the reason I would want nothing more than to see his demise. It explains the first-ever reaction of 'dear god I hate you'. And then my disappointment when he wasn't killed at some point. Dear god that guy makes my blood boil... To the point I have wanted the Black Order to wipe him and the rest of the Council out completely... Even though that goes against the game, I can still hope...
- To this day, since I was 15/16 I've always had an aversion/sense of disgust towards the city of London, specifically the Houses of Parliament, despite not having any political interest to take much notice. I have never been there, nor had I heard of anything to make me think so negatively about the place, so I really don't have any explanation when people ask 'why don't you like London?'. Like I've been asked why I don't like London. I haven't a clue why when I was asked, I just felt like it was a terrible place that couldn't go up in my estimation. Now, I found out that in the game, the Council of '98 had their base below the Houses of Parliament - I first got Legendary when I was 16/17, so this had been going on for at least six months before I first ever played.
- I remember once I came across a Legendary fanfiction... All my reaction to reading the short description was 'nope, that's not even possible', and closed out. Because it revolved around an essential part of the storyline, of Deckard himself, I struggled to wrap my head around what the hell this person was thinking of. It just seemed wrong on all aspects of what I believed, how I believed it worked, and what they wrote just made me laugh, then criticise in my sheer disbelief.
You want to ask questions? Fire away, let's see what's in my head.
For some reason unknown to me, I've always hated my arm hairs, more so on my left arm, and sometimes out of nowhere I'd pull them out with my teeth. So not only was it uneven, I couldn't always get every one. I do it with my right arm as well, but not so much.
So today I thought of this being enough, and just completely shaved my lower forearm. Like, halfway down my forearm, no higher, for some odd reason. And it feels so nice. Nevertheless my parents will probably yell at me for it because it looks weird.
Pre-warning - I may or may not start rambling about Legendary.
I should so put that in my signature one day...
Thing is, I've spent all afternoon, even now, missing Vivian like crazy. It's like a mixture of sadness and loneliness that can't be helped even when surrounded by people. I often catch myself wondering if she's okay, whether it's her sheer companionship I miss or whatever more there was.
I have no idea how common this is, or if this signifies anything else.
Just laying here watching tv (as you do), when somewhere deep down inside I felt this strong feeling of anger and a want of destruction/confrontation. It's weird, it actually feels separate.
It feels like not a matter of 'if', but 'when'. Even now I feel like if I sank into nothing, something else would overtake me.
I've said before about internally hearing a male voice when stressed, so I'm guessing it's the same one.
On interest of visualisation, without trying I get this beach all-sized sphere of what looks like black smoke/mist, and as soon as I slipped into a first-person view it lunged towards me in a shape reminiscent of my old profile picture, including red 'eyes'. It passed through me, and at that point of contact a wave of annoyance hit me.
Reverting back to the sphere, I asked if it had a name, but barely recall if I got an answer. Upon asking again, i get the frustrated response of "You just asked me that!"
So I dropped it, and here I am now.
I wonder if my feeling of being inhuman really stemmed from my feelings of underlying gender identity issues. It makes sense to me in some way, the feeling of not being comfortable here/in this body, the happier feeling of being mistaken for male, and so on. I have periods of gender dysphoria, then things calm down, like a rollercoaster in a way.
I feel like this could be much longer, but I'd just be repeating myself. If I lived on my own, I'd be myself, in charge of my own life and choices. Here, it's stifling. Hurting.
1. Start off with a decent idea for a fantasy/mercenary kind of story
2. Have many jumbled ideas for said story (a good start, if any)
3. Suddenly think 'what do I feel would be best?'
4. End up with the plot of a guy who has severe generalised anxiety and uses drawing as a calming/relaxation technique
5. End up having better ideas and more relatable situations
6. Ideas don't jump around as randomly
7. Realisation of self
I've built up my online persona for around three years now, noting that my stories almost always revolved around the same characteristics, the same kind of person. My username was adopted from said characters last name, and from there it has always been something I respond to as my own (to the point where I've considered legally having it as my middle name), and also to the point where if it's already taken on another site, I'll be a bit put out by it - strange things, names...
I got ref sheets, artwork, stories commissioned. Yes, sometimes the backstory didn't add up, but it was good to read, to vent, to imagine and desire. I'd roleplay, and it would feel so natural, a second skin if you will. At times I've seriously considered having a tailor made outfit, I could pull it off, heh.