The voices clang harder than someone chewing with their mouth open, breathing like they just ran a marathon or the vibrates of an unsilenced phone. They ring in a way that causes unbearable stress. I can do nothing but leave the room until they stop bickering and barking at each other, aggravating me more than any outside annoyance.
Get out. Get out. Get out! Why won’t you let me think for one goddamned second! Just let go of me. You do it so easily for everyone else, why can’t you do it for me?
You let everyone else go faster than a lightning strike, but for me you linger. You stay and dangle a string before my eyes, always distracting me from what’s really in front of me. There’s always something else. Always something that keeps me from what I really want. You’ve done it for so long that I don’t know what I want anymore.
It’s a sick game for you, isn’t it? Just seeing what you can get away with before I snap? Seeing how far you can get and how many buttons you can push before I give in to you. You want me to suffer and I don’t know why.
I would give anything to know why you do it to me. I always thought that you were the one place I could go when everything else abandoned me, but instead I feel more alone than ever. And it’s all your fault.
Even now, you taunt me. I don’t know why you have this never-ending ambition to ruin me, but it’s working. Is that what you want? Is that it? Then I fold. I give up. I’ll try it your way for a little bit, but I don’t think it’s going to be helpful.
Why would it be? I wish I could escape you for just the smallest bit of time imaginable. Whatever you are trying to do to me, just stop or pull the trigger. Why do you force me to struggle more than anyone should ever need to? I’m not special. I know that I’m not special. So please, for the love of god, just let me go.
Every time I disappoint you, one drop of sweat forms on my brow. I wipe it away with a handkerchief that’s moldy and ripped, then ring the sweat into a bucket. The bucket has filled by only the smallest amount every day. At first it was just a few drops the seemed harmless enough, but as time passed, the bucket started to fill.
When I saw how quickly the bottom of the bucket was covered up, I began to sweat more and more. How could I be disappointing you this much? I’m trying to be helpful and nice and kind and sweet, but I manage to screw it up anyway. Some days I can’t convince myself to keep trying, and then before bed, I can ring out an entire cup of sweat into the bucket. The bucket fills but what I worry about more is what will run out first, room in the bucket or your patience.
Occasionally, I’ll go down a rabbit hole and try to fix problems that aren’t there in a way that’s so self-deprecating and unnecessary that it starts to feel like I’m involuntarily harassing people. I’m still haunted by visions of me trying to fix things that were never wrong in the first place. Too many people from my past haunt my dreams and when I wake up, my pillow drips into the bucket as well. Today, nothing has changed. I misread people in a way that makes me feel like I should be back in second grade learning social skills again.
Enough time has passed to let the bucket fill to the top. Every drop could be the one that overflows it. I don’t know what will happen when it pours onto the floor. Will I start filling it again? Will I start trying to fill bigger and bigger basins until I’m the reason that Florida is underwater, or will I drown in the bucket so that I’m no longer the disappointment that I think I am? A drop of sweat burns my eyes. I’m afraid to see what happens when it drains over the edge.
I miss the blue of the sky that I used to see. The green of the grass that no longer appeal to me. The red of the roses and the yellow of the sun.
When I used to look outside, I was gripped by color. It would force me to enjoy them. I would have to stop and smell the roses or lay down and watch as the clouds made different shapes above. There were those days where I woke up with an agenda, but by the end all I did was sit under a tree and read a book and I was perfectly okay with it.
Now the days are darker, colors dimmer and books less enjoyable. It’s like the world has been cast under some monochromatic spell that leaves the old way of life as just a distant memory. It’s as if the vibrant nature of life has been ripped from my grasp. No matter what I do, it doesn’t seem to come back.
I would give anything just to experience life like I once did. The touch of the grass on my bare feet or just – goddammit, I could give an endless number of examples, but all they do is remind me of the joy that I don’t have. I don’t experience the pleasures that I used to love.
If I could see everything the way that I once did, then it wouldn’t feel so empty. My life wouldn’t feel so dull. It would go back to a time when it all made sense to me. I would do anything just to see the blue of the sky or the green of the grass. Please someone, let me feel like I used to.
I got the idea for this while watching Evil Genius on Netflix. I have quite an active imagination so this short was written from the perspective of genuine fear that someone was constantly watching me, but as I wrote it, it took on a kind of mystical form.
Whether I’m showering, sleeping, reading or eating, anytime I blink, I stare into the deep, dark, endless abyss of her black, unloving eyes. I see hatred that has been brought on by years of neglect, misunderstanding and hatred that cuts deeper than the sharpest blade. The unblinking focus gives me chills. She wants to do damage to someone – anyone that will be terrified and resent her, because those are the emotions that she feeds from.
I open the shower curtain and before I dry my face, I shake my head to make sure she’s not standing in the doorway waiting for me. I dry off quickly because I know that it would only take her one second to pounce and change me to a state of rigor mortis. She could be anywhere, real or fake, causing entirely real fear. The eyes are the worst. She could be holding a knife and want to skin me alive, but the genuine nothingness in her eyes signaling only the worst intent is really what causes fear… and gives her enough to feed off of for months.
Falling asleep is a chore. The sweet, relaxing feeling of waking up in the morning, well-rested after eight hours of sleep is no more. I can’t fall asleep because I see her. I don’t dream happy thoughts because I see her. I wake up and before I can have the resuscitating powers of coffee, I must check every room of my house to know that I’m alone. By the time I get coffee started, twenty minutes after I wake up, the paranoia has driven me to a state of exhaustion. The fear it drives causes an eight-hour work day before I have to go in for my eight-hour work day.
She’s not real. I don’t know why the paranoia drives me. It’s maddening. Reading is impossible. My focus is split between the pages and the occasional movement that my eyes and brain trick me with. Sometimes when I stare back to the pages, the eyes appear and stare back at me. They hold their gaze and watch as I begin to panic, rubbing my eyes repeatedly to make sure that they are fake. They aren’t there but they feel so real.
Eating has turned to a stage of weakness. I won’t let myself get lost in my taste buds because the second I close the eyes on the back of my head is when the other one’s strike. All food tastes the same, a mix of blandness and hideous textures. Chewing tires my jaw like never before. I’m in a state of insatiable hunger. When I put the dishes in the sink, I see the eyes in the drain, still unblinking, still watching.
Her shape, size and appearance mean nothing. She could be the most beautiful woman or the most hideous. No matter the aesthetics, I stare only into the portals of insanity. She won’t leave me alone. When I speak with her, she doesn’t respond. She’s watching my every move. Her eyes tell all. She’s pure evil.
You know, there are more thoughts than you would think that go into suicide. No one will ever need to talk me out of it because of the fears that I have that keep me from it.
What if I try to hang myself and the rope snaps? I don’t want to be a vegetable for the rest of my hopefully short life. If I try to shoot myself and I live, then what’s the point? If I can’t kill myself correctly then I might as well just live out the rest of my time hiding in my room. Can you imagine how painful it would be to shoot yourself in the head and live? Imagine jumping off a building and living. I’d be more machine than human at that point. Then I’d want to die, and I wouldn’t be able to go through metal detectors.
There are so many other ways to kill myself that I’ve thought about. Jumping into traffic, driving off a cliff, overdosing on pills, drinking myself into a coma, but never drowning. I hate water. I pity anyone that drowns. There is no guarantee that any of these will work.
So, let’s pretend, best-case scenario, that the first time I tried to kill myself, it did work… then what? I’m not a particularly religious person, but I’m not an atheist. What if there is no afterlife. That’s inherently terrifying because once you’re dead, that’s it: Done, gone, forgotten. That shouldn’t scare me if I’m thinking about suicide, but it does. The whole point of killing myself is that this life is garbage and not doing for me what I wish it would. But if there is no afterlife, am I really getting what I want? It wouldn’t be better. It would just be over. Sure, if it’s over, then it’s better because I’m not dealing with it… but is that really what I want?
That doesn’t even address the fact of if there is an afterlife! What if Heaven and Hell are real? What if there is a divine judge who decides if I belong in Heaven or Hell, and he says Heaven? If I go to Heaven, it has to be great, right? But what if it’s not? If I die and go to Heaven, there is a chance that my mind hasn’t changed and I’m still just as depressed and suicidal there, too. Then where would I go if I kill myself? Absolutely nowhere, that’s where. I’d be stuck in the same place with the same mind and the same terrible existence.
And what if God tells me to go to Hell? If it’s what everyone says it is, then it’ll be miserable. A life in fire or ice, depending on what book you read; torture regardless of which one it turns out to be. I’ve often thought that Hell would be different, potentially better than Heaven. I know that by saying that, I’m going to Hell for sure, but think about it. Satan was only sent to Hell because he thought he was better than God, but if he thought that, wouldn’t he have something to show for it? He’d be powerful too, and I bet he would want Hell to be equal to, if not better than Heaven, so that he could show that he’s better than God. Sure, criminals of all shapes and sizes would live there, but what are they going to do, kill me? I’d already be dead! It wouldn’t matter. Honestly, I bet the people down there would be more interesting than the ones in Heaven. But even with all of that, I’m sure I’d still be depressed, and I’d still want to die again, but you can only die once.
I don’t know what to do, but I’m sure I won’t be killing myself anytime soon. There is too much chance involved, and so many variables to account for. It’d be easier to just keep pushing through my mundane, depressing life and hope it gets better. Then at the very least I wouldn’t be putting my existence in the hands of so many uncertainties.
First and foremost, thank you to the new followers that I’ve gotten. I don’t know how or why you followed me, but I’m just going to assume that it’s because you like the stuff I put out. I’d love to get some comments on my posts letting me know what you like and don’t. I value your opinion and really want this website to a productive way to better my own writing skills. Enough of that though – I’m writing this to talk a bit more about the cog that moves this blog. I’ll be focusing on the projects that I have going on right now and what kind of direction I’d like them to head in.
Clearly this blog is a way to get my writing out to the public, but it’s also an archive for my stuff. I’m writing to try and help people that might suffer through the same stuff but not necessarily know how to say it or what to do to feel better. What I write stems from my own personal struggle and the thoughts that go through my head. I want to be as transparent as possible because I think authenticity is more important than a lot of other things.
As you can likely tell by the vague project heading Book, I don’t want to go into too much detail at this moment in time, but I finished writing my second book in March. The first one that I wrote is written like shit because I was a very unseasoned writer. The idea is good so I’ll rewrite it eventually, but currently, I have my second book going through the rejection process of the traditional agent/publishing route.
I am working with my girlfriend and a few of my college buddies to make a business that should help a college students in the future. Again, for the sake of protecting my ideas, I won’t go into too much detail, but know that this is a huge time draw for me right now.
If you’re a super follower, then you must have noticed the Episode 1 post that I put out. I’m experimenting with podcast format and equipment to make a podcast that covers a lot of the topics that I’ll cover in this blog, but with a bit more personality since you can hear it through my voice and not a screen
I have a few card games that I’m getting ready to throw at Kickstarter in the hopefully near future. One is fast-paced and surely has a lot of playful screaming involved, while the other is a strategic and chance based game that brings an educational and fun component.
I’ll go into more detail about all of the projects as they develop, but for now I want to just say that I have a lot of stuff cooking and I hope that you can find at least a piece of it to enjoy. If you have any questions, feel free to ask and comment. I like to keep myself busy so I’m always doing something and I’m sure that I’ll have new projects brewing soon. Now, I know you’re thinking “wow, that’s a lot. That’s never gonna happen,” but I promise you… it’ll all get done.
Hello and welcome to something very different from what I normally do. Joseph from Iskarius nominated me for this award and, although I don’t really know how or where it started, it seemed like something interesting to do. It’ll give a bit more insight into the person behind the blog. So thank you Joseph and please check out his blog.
THE OFFICIAL RULES: LIEBSTER AWARD
If you are nominated for The Liebster Award and you accept it, write a blog post about the Liebster award in which you:
Thank the person who nominated you and post a link to their blog on your blog.
Display the award on your blog by including it in your post and/or displaying it using a “widget” or “gadget.”
Answer all 11 Questions about yourself, which will be provided to you by the person who nominated you.
Provide 11 random facts about yourself.
Nominate 5-11 blogs that you feel deserve the award, who have less than 1,000 followers.
Create a new list of questions for the blogger to answer.
List the rules in your post. Once you have written and published it, you have to inform the blogs that you nominated for the Liebster Award and provide a link for them to your post so that they can learn about it.
1. Why did you start blogging?
I started blogging because my friend Isaac told me I should. I have been writing for the better part of a year and a half and I have loved every second of it. At first, it took time to share my work with anyone, but as time progressed and I became a bit more confident, I started sending it to friends and family. It didn’t take long for me to want a bigger and more diverse audience to share my work with so this was a kind of the natural progression.
2. If you were a superhero, what would be your power?
This is a question that I’ve spent more time on than I should probably admit. I’d love the ability to bend light. I know that sounds weird but hear me out. If you could bend light, you could change how it bounces off surfaces, so I could do something as simple as turn someones shirt from green to purple, or theoretically travel at the speed of light by using the waves or maybe even make a hard light surface like a light bridge. I don’t know. Maybe I’m full of shit and none of this will work. Oh well.
3. Can you perform a magic trick?
Yes and no. The only magic trick that I’ve ever really performed was giving a friend a deck of cards and told them to shuffle it completely ten times if they wanted to see a magic trick. When they were done I just put the cards away and went “ta da! I magically got you to shuffle cards for no reason!” It’s stupid but I had fun.
4. What are you exceptionally good at?
Following a burning passion. I love writing, so I’ve written two books in a year in my attempts to get published. I love business, so I’m always working to push forward different business ideas. I know that if I want something to happen, I need to make it happen, so I work as hard as I can.
5. What is your favorite dish?
Burgers. I love them. They can be simple or complex, but if you can find ingredients to compliment the meat, it can be divine.
6. How do you avoid getting into trouble?
By telling the truth and being transparent. My whole purpose for starting to write was I needed an emotional outlet. I’d rather tell someone ten bad but honest things and work through it, instead of keeping something locked up and being forced to deal with it alone.
7. Would you try extreme sports?
It depends on what it is. Like would I skydive? Sure. Bungee jump? Maybe, it seems like it would hurt your neck. I would try stuff that’s extreme but has a high success rate. I wouldn’t do something that ends in a lot of deaths because I value my life more than I need an adrenaline rush.
8. What are your 3 favorite books?
I Am Legend by Richard Matheson
1984 by George Orwell
The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas
9. What do you think we take for granted these days?
Communication. The ability to talk to everyone has made it easy to neglect the really important relationships because you’re focusing on keeping every relationship you’ve ever had. It also creates a false sense of closeness that I believe can be really bad for anxiety and stress.
10. You are now the wealthiest person in the world. What do you do first?
This might seem selfish, but I would retire and focus on stuff that I’m more passionate about. If I had more time in the day to focus on my books, ideas for podcasts, videos and businesses, then I might really make something that can do even more good than just money. I’m not a materialistic person so I don’t want much other than more time in the day for my passion projects and family.
11 Random facts about myself:
Favorite color: Purple
Favorite song: Mad World by Gary Jules
What am I listening to right now: She by Cocainejesus
Book that I’m going to read next: The Forever War by Joe Haldeman
Favorite brand of coffee: Eight O’Clock Original blend
Least favorite book of the past year: Brave New World by Aldous Huxley
Biggest motivators: My girlfriend Alex and my own drive for success
Favorite holiday: Groundhog Day, strictly because of how ridiculous it is
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you the truth.”
“Try me. I’ve heard all sorts of stories from all sorts of people and I’m sure this one isn’t too different from the others.”
“That’s what all of the others shrinks said.”
“I know that you haven’t had much luck before but I’m really here to help you. I’m sure the others were too but I’ve been in the industry for a long time, and sometimes therapists have this weird way of trying to relate to their clients by pretending that what they have isn’t real.”
“I mean, I’ll tell you everything that I’ve told the others, but it won’t help.”
“Well Harold, at least give me the chance to prove you wrong.”
“Fine, but if you’re like the rest then I’m not coming back. I didn’t want to do this in the first place. My mom’s making me do it. Give it a few more months and I’ll be able to make the decision on my own, and I know I won’t be coming back.”
“And that’s okay, but let’s make the best of the time that we have together. Please tell me more about why you’re here.”
“Okay, well when I look at you, you’re translucent.”
“Yeah. When I look at you, I see the lab coat and I see your skin, but I can also see the orange and yellow floral pattern on the chair that you’re sitting in.”
“Do you know why you see it that way?”
“Wow, you’re the first shrink of four who didn’t try to get me to prove it. Doctor Thomas kept trying to get me to guess what he had written on a piece of paper that he held behind his back.”
“Could you do it?”
“No. That time I couldn’t see through him. I can see through some people, but not him.”
“You wouldn’t like it if I told you.”
“You should still tell me.”
“Soon. I can’t yet.”
“We’ll come back to it then. When did this start for you?”
“Do you mean seeing through people?”
“It’s happened for as long as I can remember. I think the first time that it happened was probably when I was five or six.”
“Do you remember what you saw?”
“Yeah, it was my grandpap.”
“Why was he translucent?”
“I don’t remember.”
“I think we both know that you do. Just tell me. It’ll make this whole conversation a bit easier for the both of us.”
“I don’t… remember.”
“Fine, but you’re going to have to learn to open up.”
“And you’re going to have to learn when to stop pushing.”
“Good. My mom’s paying for an hourly rate. Why don’t you start asking questions that really matter instead of wasting both my time and yours?”
“Okay. Who was the second person that you saw as translucent?”
“My friends’ mom.”
“How long ago was that?”
“It was probably around the same time that I saw my grandpap like that.”
“And you said that was around the age of five or six?”
“Great. Who was next?”
“This one’s harder to explain. It was my mom’s stomach.”
“Why wasn’t it your mom? Why was it just her stomach?”
“I don’t remember. The next instance that I saw of it was this guy who was next to us at a stop light.”
“So, it’s not just people that you’re close to? It can be anyone?”
“What happened to the guy in the car?”
“He drove away when the light turned green. What did you expect?”
“I don’t know. I guess something else.”
“That’s very professional of you. I love hearing from an expert in their field that they ‘guess’ something.”
“I’m just trying to fill in the blanks that you clearly won’t fill in. I’m doing the best that I can with what I’m being given.”
“You’re doing better than the others. I’ll give you that.”
“Thanks, I guess. Did you tell them anymore than you’ve giving me?”
“The first two, yes but then they requested that I see someone else ‘more suited for my special circumstance.’”
“That’s peculiar. I get why you’re a bit nervous about therapists.”
“It’s because they can’t do anything to help me. They always treat me more as a case study than a patient. If I told you what it meant, then I’m sure we’d be having a different conversation. And, just to save a conversation, no… there’s nothing I can do for you.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’m not telling you yet.”
“But you will tell me?”
“I guess that’s a step in the right direction.”
“There you are, guessing again.”
“… who else do you remember seeing as translucent?”
“One time my dad drove passed a dear that was translucent.”
“Interesting, so it’s not just people?”
“Wow, great inference. You’re doing great, ya know that?”
“I’m not… thank you – I’m just trying to help.”
“I know what you’re trying to do. I’m just trying to get through another impractical crazy session.”
“Is that how you see yourself? Crazy?”
“Can you think of a better word?”
“I really don’t like for my patience to use the word crazy. It can be really bad for self-worth and self-esteem.”
“Yeah. You’re probably right, but I don’t feel like I really need a better self-esteem at this point.”
“Why’s that? Everybody deserves to feel better about themselves. You’re no different.”
“Okay Mister Doctor. I’ll work on my self-esteem. The next thing I saw as translucent was Spot.”
“What was Spot?”
“She was our family dog. She was a beagle, but she had this weird spotted pattern on her back. When we got her, the owners said she was a purebred, but no one really believed that.”
“Tell me more about Spot.”
“What more do you want to know?”
“Honestly, just anything. That was the most you’ve given me since we started.”
“Well I don’t have much more to say about her.”
“Okay… well who else have you seen?”
“Doc, the list goes on for a long time. I could go through a lot of different people, animals and whatever else you can think of, but I don’t think my mom’s that rich.”
“Do you know why you see these things as translucent?”
“I thought I made that clear at the beginning of this conversation.”
“I just wanted to be sure. Tell me more about your grandpap.”
“Is that what this conversation is going to be now; you just asking about people who I’ve seen as translucent?”
“If you’re not going to tell me what it means then I’m going to figure out what I can.”
“You don’t want me to tell you and more than that, I don’t want to tell you. It’s hard enough living with it, let alone breaking the news to other people.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Nothing. It’s nothing.”
“Even if you won’t tell me, at least tell me how it makes you feel. If nothing else, I’d like to make you feel better about it.”
“Do you have a wife or kids?”
“Two kids and an ex-wife.”
“I’ve never understood how a therapist, or someone who helps people with their problems, can get divorced.”
“It was a complicated situation. Every relationship is different.”
“Do you love your kids?”
“Of course, I do.”
“Do you tell them that regularly?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“Yes. I tell them that I love them. What are you on about?”
“Calm down. You’re the first shrink who’s gotten confrontational. I just want you to feel better, too.”
“I feel fine. What are you getting at?”
“Spot disappeared later that day. My parents said that he went to a distant relatives farm, but I knew better.”
“Can you stop being so cryptic and just tell me what it means?
“When my dad and I were driving home that night, the dear was on the side of the road. It had been hit by a car. I think our neighbors hit it because their car was in the shop the next day.”
“Okay? What does that have to do with anything?”
“The guy who was next to us at the stop light, he sped ahead and no more than five miles later, we saw his crumpled car on the side of the road. My mom miscarried who was supposed to be my younger sibling. My friend’s mom died after a long struggle with breast cancer. My Grandpap had a heart attack later that day at the age of 66; I never really knew him.”
“So, wait – are you telling me that whatever you see as translucent dies?”
“Yes. In the same day.”
“Well yeah, that’s unusual, but that’s not the end of the world. I can’t believe you went through four – or was it five – different shrinks before me. This is peculiar for sure, but not too bad to help.”
“I’m sure there will be more than four shrinks.”
“What makes you say that? You don’t think I can handle you? Ha! Harold, I’m sure I’ll do just fine now that I know what the problem is.”
“I’m sure you will Doctor Vann… I’m sure you will.”
“This is a great start! Now that I know what the problem is, how about we schedule something at the same time next week and we can hash out even more details!”
“That sounds great Doctor Vann. I’ll see you then. One last thing before I go, have I told you how much I like the design on your chair?”
This is the first episode of my new Podcast that’s unsurprisingly called Acceptable Madness. It’s just the introductory episode so I’m mainly covering what I hope it will accomplish and a bit more about myself. I hope you enjoy.
Depending on the month, week, day, minute and second, I love and/or hate myself. Sometimes I view my actions as though I’m a god on this mortal planet (or like how Kanye views Kanye) while other times I see myself as this scum that doesn’t deserve to live because I’m contributing nothing to the world.
Scott McIloveyou and Scott McIhateyou
I love you with all my heart. Anytime I talk to you, I get a tinge of happiness and my heart leaps. Every part of me gets a little giddy and it feels like I deserve to be appreciated. I’ve never felt like I should be appreciated before.
I can’t be loved. I’m too much of an emotional train wreck. I should stay in my head for as long as I can do that I don’t subject anyone else to the sadistic insanity that I think. If I don’t tell a soul, then I’m not a burden to anyone. No one cares enough to find out what’s going on inside my head.
When you do though, it’s like you’ve dropped antidote into a venom. The spiraling thoughts unwind into a single thread of understanding and ease. It makes the insanity feel like normalcy and the cries for help turn to cries of thanks.
Why do you do it? I don’t deserve the patience and unconditional love that you provide. All I do is cause you the same confusion, pain and sadness that I cause myself. I wish I could help you like you help me, but all I do is act like an angry toddler who can’t communicate their words. I can’t seem to stop drowning in my thoughts and I don’t want to drag you to the depths with me.
Yet you hold on like a life jacket and I bob down a river of uncertainty that feels much less scary and dangerous with you. The waves feel soothing instead of sickening and the creatures below seem beautiful instead of threatening.
I don’t think I can be part of something bigger. I’m emotionally weak. I’m physically exhausted. I’m constantly scared of the world around me.
I am constantly trying to be better for you… and me.