Wrist-Cut Show Interlude
A bonus chapter because six took so long...
Lost?:
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Interlude
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight *new*
Wrist-Cut Show - Interlude -
- Toshiya -
Waking up in the morning, blinking, eyes blurrily registering the shapes on the ceiling, each bump, each shadow blending into the vast wasteland of dust and cobwebs that hung from his ceiling. Take one hand, reaching for his face, rubbing at weary eyes. Tired eyes.
Get up. Stare at his reflection. He didn’t like the image of him, smeared makeup, bloodshot eyes, puffy. It reminded him of something dead and rotting, decaying, the world decaying all around him including those eyes. This wasn’t living, this was surviving, this was opening one's eyes each morning and taking in all that disappointment and all that sorrow.
This was the only time. This morning. Every morning. The only time to see him dead. All other times he was alive. He was searing with lusty passions that burned to leave him as nothing but thin grey ash in the morning. It was when he felt weak. It was when he knew that everything was a lie, a pretense to keep him going because he didn’t know any other way. He hated that person he was when he left his bedroom, who could smile so easily, who could laugh and joke and feel. Because, the person he was now couldn’t sense anything besides the clammy stench of decay which crept into his mind to haunt him.
He couldn’t be faithful. He couldn’t feel remorse. He would fuck anyone that asked. He was a whore looking for something in the thrill of ecstasy, something to give him feeling in the mornings when the fog covered everything. He didn't know if this was living. He didn't know who to trust, which one of himself was the real one, the one who smiles, the one who cries? They were his personas covering a deeper sickness that left a decaying mold on his soul.
"Don't try and describe your sorrows to me. Do you feel it? That's all I want to know. When you look deep into yourself, do you find yourself lingering in the moments of sadness or the moments of joy?"
It was like he could never explain to anyone what this absence in his heart was because as soon as he stepped out of his bedroom door he was too caught up in everything to quite remember its feeling. Yet, every morning was the same pain and the same overwhelming feeling of complete desolation, a wasteland of nothingness stretching far into the darkened sky, a desert of cracked earth reddened by the blood of those who starved on its terrain. The crackling storm overhead brewed. Looking beyond into the horizon, a darkness so deep and so penetrating, only to find it was merely the mirror surface of a watery barrier reflecting his soul, a realization that stung with the bitter taste of truth.
To escape, what a fantasy. This was reality. This was living. This was all that he had ever been able to grasp for himself. A different world, just a desire. A longing from so terribly long ago. A soul can only fight for so long before it becomes weakened beyond repair. Despair has a nasty way of eating away at the threads that tie your sanity together, no longer knitted in neat rows, the mind begins to seek other ways to consol itself. The mind desires, as the heart beats but no longer can provoke hope.
Don't run. Merely hide. Hide behind the smiles. Hide behind the laughs and the perverted jokes. Hide behind the make-up and the designer clothes. Hide behind the touches and the kisses, the sexual desires. Hide the skeleton of your soul in order to protect it, its flesh long been torn and ripped from its frame. What was once vibrant and full of life has now been drained, endless running wearing down on the feet of a once angry victim.
There is nothing left to the self other than what he could pretend was there. If he managed that then everything else, the looks, the comments, criticism, the hate, could all disappear on an unending list of hurtful things that had happened to him since his undesired birth. There was never enough time to feel sorry for all those things, so he plastered his face on and left out his bedroom door to become his other self again.
- Kyo -
Darkness.
Hate was broiling in that consuming darkness. Festering in the recesses of his tormented mind.
The faces of those he despised were blurring and morphing into a single, mocking face. It all led back to that moment when he was sunk deepest into despair. When he was so gruesomely betrayed that it had taken him years to see how awful a deed had been done to him. That’s when the hate started to build, wanting to consume everything inside of him until he was left with nothing but red hot sickness that drove him mad.
Kyo did not want that anger to go away because he knew that if it did, he would be swept into an emotion even more terrible than this.
There was no amount of blood he could ever shed that would wash away this feeling. He could cut and cut away at his guilty flesh, but it would no more disappear than the scars that stayed for years afterwards.
Decoy. Rot. Filth.
A heart of…
“Dying wretched thing.” He didn’t know why he bothered, why she had bothered.
If only to see…
There was a better time and place with good feelings. There was so much feeling. And now, just boiling anger with a core of numbness.
Unable to be touched by anything. Limited in order to protect.
“We lost our faith a long time ago, didn’t we?”
“When she cut herself loose from the endless cycle, she sealed the spinning of my own. Still I do not blame her.”
Humans are constantly hurting the ones near them in order to find some sort of self satisfaction.
"Do you feel the shadows of time casting seeping darkness across you? An unending stream, death in life. Melting, morphing like a vision from Dali."
"Your face melds into mine, the one you love melts into the one you hate. Ambigious statements of conformity and social order pervade mental consciousness. Things that once made sense now elude you like grasping onto smoky memories of last night's dream. The world constantly changing around you, spinning faster, sickly merry-go-round music, turning round and round, colors molding into darkness which holds all the potential in the world, a kind of brilliance where nothing exists. A falling sensation turning daydreams into hard facts, when reality becomes what you desire, for just that moment you can believe that everything is happy and bright and she still exists in this world and darkness hasn't crept over you vision, turning your eyes blind and your ears deaf. You've seen it also, haven't you? A glimpse in the milky eyes of the blind, those who can't see aren't oblivious to its sight. And if you take all these thoughts and put them together, you'll find, after the wrapping and the pretty bow, that you never want that box to be opened because you know the pretty words on the outside make it seem better than it really is."
"Truth, then, is just something that sometimes shouldn't be told. Lies are perhaps the most beautiful thing in the world because they tell us what we want to hear."
"If you try, will you reach beyond this obscurity? Can you stop the fog, wash away the film that has grown over your eyes?"
"You will forget the pain. It will pass you by like a bad dream. You will go on to smile, to yearn, to hope and dream. It is the only thing humans can do because those that let all wither around them as it does inside them will be transformed into beasts incapable of emotion."
Kyo wondered often if he was that beast preying on those around him. A beast cannot bring happiness to the world, merely suffering. A dark suffering. A beast is the fog that blinds and kills mothers and their children. A beast is the fire that consumes everything in its path, it is a cancerous infection that slowly drains the life and the dignity from its victims.
How does one return from this state? How can one hope for salvation? To realize you're the scourge upon humanity, what everyone hates about that world? Is it not expected fo you then to end it?
"When you cry, tears that aren't supposed to be shed by a beast, you willl understand why you have to die. It's not a matter of wanting, but rather that you do not deserve such a kindness as life to be bestowed upon you."
"It's not like I wanted to die with her that day. Rather it's that I didn't want to leave her alone. Her eyes gazed at me with such a deep longing to be loved. In the way that showed the neglect, the shadowy dull tint to her eyes. She had given up on me, on my father and she had given up on herself. That look was forever frozen on her face, the last emotion she would ever feel as blood spread out from her body. A tingling feeling of numbness as my blood joined hers."
“Louder. The louder I scream, the more you’ll hear me, mother. Maybe my voice will reach you one day and you’ll finally return to bring me back with you.”
After all,
“My dreams ended the day you stopped looking into my eyes.”
- Shinya -
They didn’t understand.
It wasn’t that they weren’t trying. He just wasn’t able to shed the feeling that continually welled up in him. That horrible feeling of helplessness and the guilt associated with failed responsibility. It bought him back to the days when he would find the smallest place possible and hide. No one would see him crying. No one would know where he was and no one would come looking for him. That was when he started to disappear.
He’d sit there gripping his knees, his legs cramping and his throat aching from all the tears. It was dark, so dark he could not see himself. Shoved against boxes in the closet, he was no longer a person. Just part of the rough carpet and the walls. Another box of casually tossed aside items.
He’d stop thinking about everything. Everything became that darkness and arms wrapped around himself. The intense desire for something unknown, for the embrace of another’s arms wrapping around himself. Inside he was feeling colder and colder. He wanted to scream. He wanted to scream so loud that he would begin to exist again, but he couldn’t. It was already too late. He had already been absorbed into the woodwork and carpetry. There was no self left to regain.
In time we all fade, till we're nothing but dust on the ground, the memories of our lives squashed and trampled by the everyday events of the lives of the ones who once claimed to love us. It will end like that, an unsatisfying eulogy of heartbreaking failures, broken wings, and the hollow resonance of what was once considered to be so great.
Shinya couldn't regain his innocence because the blood stained no matter how many times he washed it away. He would always feel the blood, warm on his fingers, so warm and the smell, unforgettable. Taking away his right to call himself human by taking away the life's blood of another.
"He used to tease me all the time. The shadows of my past, a glum memory of loneliness. It was always dark, night passing into morning with only a dull illumination. The power so dimmed, so weakened by my desire to remain anonymous. "
"I had no talents. I once dreamed about being part of something besides the outcast, being part of something bigger, but it was only a desire that would never come true. I felt myself deviate from what others called the norm. I wanted to live a different life. I wanted to be someone who was pretty, someone who others would notice. But now, that desire has come back in a cruel irony. I got what I wanted, but the kindness of others no longer exists. I'm simply a spectacle to be laughed at, to be torn apart, to be misunderstood, to be humilated for others entertainment."
"I hope you're happy. I hope you're laughing. I have your blood on my hands. Are you still laughing? I can't hear you anymore. "
"I took it away from you. That smiling face that mocked me day after day after day. I was only little. I didn't understand. But I still took it away from you and now there's only blood on my hands that won't ever wash away. I smell it all the time. I feel it soaking my skin. I want to peel myself away, I want to take back what I did, but I can't. I can't relinquish my hatred for you or this feeling that I had to do it. Now I can't ever stand up for myself again. Because you are still taunting me even though I took your mocking face away..."
Lost?:
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Interlude
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight *new*
Wrist-Cut Show - Interlude -
- Toshiya -
Waking up in the morning, blinking, eyes blurrily registering the shapes on the ceiling, each bump, each shadow blending into the vast wasteland of dust and cobwebs that hung from his ceiling. Take one hand, reaching for his face, rubbing at weary eyes. Tired eyes.
Get up. Stare at his reflection. He didn’t like the image of him, smeared makeup, bloodshot eyes, puffy. It reminded him of something dead and rotting, decaying, the world decaying all around him including those eyes. This wasn’t living, this was surviving, this was opening one's eyes each morning and taking in all that disappointment and all that sorrow.
This was the only time. This morning. Every morning. The only time to see him dead. All other times he was alive. He was searing with lusty passions that burned to leave him as nothing but thin grey ash in the morning. It was when he felt weak. It was when he knew that everything was a lie, a pretense to keep him going because he didn’t know any other way. He hated that person he was when he left his bedroom, who could smile so easily, who could laugh and joke and feel. Because, the person he was now couldn’t sense anything besides the clammy stench of decay which crept into his mind to haunt him.
He couldn’t be faithful. He couldn’t feel remorse. He would fuck anyone that asked. He was a whore looking for something in the thrill of ecstasy, something to give him feeling in the mornings when the fog covered everything. He didn't know if this was living. He didn't know who to trust, which one of himself was the real one, the one who smiles, the one who cries? They were his personas covering a deeper sickness that left a decaying mold on his soul.
"Don't try and describe your sorrows to me. Do you feel it? That's all I want to know. When you look deep into yourself, do you find yourself lingering in the moments of sadness or the moments of joy?"
It was like he could never explain to anyone what this absence in his heart was because as soon as he stepped out of his bedroom door he was too caught up in everything to quite remember its feeling. Yet, every morning was the same pain and the same overwhelming feeling of complete desolation, a wasteland of nothingness stretching far into the darkened sky, a desert of cracked earth reddened by the blood of those who starved on its terrain. The crackling storm overhead brewed. Looking beyond into the horizon, a darkness so deep and so penetrating, only to find it was merely the mirror surface of a watery barrier reflecting his soul, a realization that stung with the bitter taste of truth.
To escape, what a fantasy. This was reality. This was living. This was all that he had ever been able to grasp for himself. A different world, just a desire. A longing from so terribly long ago. A soul can only fight for so long before it becomes weakened beyond repair. Despair has a nasty way of eating away at the threads that tie your sanity together, no longer knitted in neat rows, the mind begins to seek other ways to consol itself. The mind desires, as the heart beats but no longer can provoke hope.
Don't run. Merely hide. Hide behind the smiles. Hide behind the laughs and the perverted jokes. Hide behind the make-up and the designer clothes. Hide behind the touches and the kisses, the sexual desires. Hide the skeleton of your soul in order to protect it, its flesh long been torn and ripped from its frame. What was once vibrant and full of life has now been drained, endless running wearing down on the feet of a once angry victim.
There is nothing left to the self other than what he could pretend was there. If he managed that then everything else, the looks, the comments, criticism, the hate, could all disappear on an unending list of hurtful things that had happened to him since his undesired birth. There was never enough time to feel sorry for all those things, so he plastered his face on and left out his bedroom door to become his other self again.
- Kyo -
Darkness.
Hate was broiling in that consuming darkness. Festering in the recesses of his tormented mind.
The faces of those he despised were blurring and morphing into a single, mocking face. It all led back to that moment when he was sunk deepest into despair. When he was so gruesomely betrayed that it had taken him years to see how awful a deed had been done to him. That’s when the hate started to build, wanting to consume everything inside of him until he was left with nothing but red hot sickness that drove him mad.
Kyo did not want that anger to go away because he knew that if it did, he would be swept into an emotion even more terrible than this.
There was no amount of blood he could ever shed that would wash away this feeling. He could cut and cut away at his guilty flesh, but it would no more disappear than the scars that stayed for years afterwards.
Decoy. Rot. Filth.
A heart of…
“Dying wretched thing.” He didn’t know why he bothered, why she had bothered.
If only to see…
There was a better time and place with good feelings. There was so much feeling. And now, just boiling anger with a core of numbness.
Unable to be touched by anything. Limited in order to protect.
“We lost our faith a long time ago, didn’t we?”
“When she cut herself loose from the endless cycle, she sealed the spinning of my own. Still I do not blame her.”
Humans are constantly hurting the ones near them in order to find some sort of self satisfaction.
"Do you feel the shadows of time casting seeping darkness across you? An unending stream, death in life. Melting, morphing like a vision from Dali."
"Your face melds into mine, the one you love melts into the one you hate. Ambigious statements of conformity and social order pervade mental consciousness. Things that once made sense now elude you like grasping onto smoky memories of last night's dream. The world constantly changing around you, spinning faster, sickly merry-go-round music, turning round and round, colors molding into darkness which holds all the potential in the world, a kind of brilliance where nothing exists. A falling sensation turning daydreams into hard facts, when reality becomes what you desire, for just that moment you can believe that everything is happy and bright and she still exists in this world and darkness hasn't crept over you vision, turning your eyes blind and your ears deaf. You've seen it also, haven't you? A glimpse in the milky eyes of the blind, those who can't see aren't oblivious to its sight. And if you take all these thoughts and put them together, you'll find, after the wrapping and the pretty bow, that you never want that box to be opened because you know the pretty words on the outside make it seem better than it really is."
"Truth, then, is just something that sometimes shouldn't be told. Lies are perhaps the most beautiful thing in the world because they tell us what we want to hear."
"If you try, will you reach beyond this obscurity? Can you stop the fog, wash away the film that has grown over your eyes?"
"You will forget the pain. It will pass you by like a bad dream. You will go on to smile, to yearn, to hope and dream. It is the only thing humans can do because those that let all wither around them as it does inside them will be transformed into beasts incapable of emotion."
Kyo wondered often if he was that beast preying on those around him. A beast cannot bring happiness to the world, merely suffering. A dark suffering. A beast is the fog that blinds and kills mothers and their children. A beast is the fire that consumes everything in its path, it is a cancerous infection that slowly drains the life and the dignity from its victims.
How does one return from this state? How can one hope for salvation? To realize you're the scourge upon humanity, what everyone hates about that world? Is it not expected fo you then to end it?
"When you cry, tears that aren't supposed to be shed by a beast, you willl understand why you have to die. It's not a matter of wanting, but rather that you do not deserve such a kindness as life to be bestowed upon you."
"It's not like I wanted to die with her that day. Rather it's that I didn't want to leave her alone. Her eyes gazed at me with such a deep longing to be loved. In the way that showed the neglect, the shadowy dull tint to her eyes. She had given up on me, on my father and she had given up on herself. That look was forever frozen on her face, the last emotion she would ever feel as blood spread out from her body. A tingling feeling of numbness as my blood joined hers."
“Louder. The louder I scream, the more you’ll hear me, mother. Maybe my voice will reach you one day and you’ll finally return to bring me back with you.”
After all,
“My dreams ended the day you stopped looking into my eyes.”
- Shinya -
They didn’t understand.
It wasn’t that they weren’t trying. He just wasn’t able to shed the feeling that continually welled up in him. That horrible feeling of helplessness and the guilt associated with failed responsibility. It bought him back to the days when he would find the smallest place possible and hide. No one would see him crying. No one would know where he was and no one would come looking for him. That was when he started to disappear.
He’d sit there gripping his knees, his legs cramping and his throat aching from all the tears. It was dark, so dark he could not see himself. Shoved against boxes in the closet, he was no longer a person. Just part of the rough carpet and the walls. Another box of casually tossed aside items.
He’d stop thinking about everything. Everything became that darkness and arms wrapped around himself. The intense desire for something unknown, for the embrace of another’s arms wrapping around himself. Inside he was feeling colder and colder. He wanted to scream. He wanted to scream so loud that he would begin to exist again, but he couldn’t. It was already too late. He had already been absorbed into the woodwork and carpetry. There was no self left to regain.
In time we all fade, till we're nothing but dust on the ground, the memories of our lives squashed and trampled by the everyday events of the lives of the ones who once claimed to love us. It will end like that, an unsatisfying eulogy of heartbreaking failures, broken wings, and the hollow resonance of what was once considered to be so great.
Shinya couldn't regain his innocence because the blood stained no matter how many times he washed it away. He would always feel the blood, warm on his fingers, so warm and the smell, unforgettable. Taking away his right to call himself human by taking away the life's blood of another.
"He used to tease me all the time. The shadows of my past, a glum memory of loneliness. It was always dark, night passing into morning with only a dull illumination. The power so dimmed, so weakened by my desire to remain anonymous. "
"I had no talents. I once dreamed about being part of something besides the outcast, being part of something bigger, but it was only a desire that would never come true. I felt myself deviate from what others called the norm. I wanted to live a different life. I wanted to be someone who was pretty, someone who others would notice. But now, that desire has come back in a cruel irony. I got what I wanted, but the kindness of others no longer exists. I'm simply a spectacle to be laughed at, to be torn apart, to be misunderstood, to be humilated for others entertainment."
"I hope you're happy. I hope you're laughing. I have your blood on my hands. Are you still laughing? I can't hear you anymore. "
"I took it away from you. That smiling face that mocked me day after day after day. I was only little. I didn't understand. But I still took it away from you and now there's only blood on my hands that won't ever wash away. I smell it all the time. I feel it soaking my skin. I want to peel myself away, I want to take back what I did, but I can't. I can't relinquish my hatred for you or this feeling that I had to do it. Now I can't ever stand up for myself again. Because you are still taunting me even though I took your mocking face away..."