- --. Pieces of A Whole

So I guess I'm compromised by some unnatural force again. Sorry for the corruption. It has been 2,036 seconds since I saw Him. Every few days I vomit black. Been cooped up in this little shed for too long, I think I might be dyin'. Again. 

That's okay though, I think this time it's gonna be a lot slower. I can feel myself hollowing out from the inside. That's okay, too. I stopped thinking about the things I lost a while ago. I stopped wanting answers. I stopped wanting freedom, even. In that moment of resigning myself to servitude I felt that eye gaze upon me. The ink that welled up from my belly and out of my throat, sinking into the floorboards, suddenly rose and melted together. It took a shape.

Just a tumorous mass shaking and writhing on the ground, one large eye staring at me. Piercing me. In a single moment I experienced something magnificent.

 

The mouth that I stitched shut, the face that porcelain fused with. The water that drowned my lungs.
The throat that bled and croaked, that cried out for relief, that drank poison.
The eyes I plucked myself, that had seen bodies strung about amongst red trees.
The ears that have heard nothing but pleading and begging for mercy.
The arms and legs that were wrapped with barbed string by a wooden X.

I was suddenly aware of everything. All the agony and loss and atrocities committed. I was aware of this god and its' game with my life. The pleasure it bathed itself in, its bloated stretched skin torn just enough to see its insides. It was laughing and bellowing, pointing like a toddler. Pointing at me.

And all of the rage, disgust, and horror split my fucking brain.

I reached my hand out, it laughing still. But it came to a halt when I grabbed hold of those strings. The ones I have had for all of my lives. I GRABBED THEM, my friend. It began to scream incessantly with words of a language I have never heard and will never hear again. I felt the god thrash about, lashing its stomach with its worm-like arms. Its face twisting into many expressions.

I held those strings with both hands and pulled. The screaming beast tore open, spilling gore in all directions. It exploded outwards, the screams still echoing. The eye still watching, as I think it always will be.

It is still out there somewhere, not quite dead yet.

I've no strings. I am choosing to hunt this thing. Not for revenge, nor to try and get back the things I have lost. Those things are already dead and gone. Just like Puppet.

I want to show it to you. Not just tell you.

Some strange place in my brain still has love for you. Some sad, strange, lost place...

6. Family

Believe it or not, I used to have a family. A mother, a father, a sister. I often forget that I lost them, I was so desperate. And equally as often I count the stars in the sky and wonder who among them are watching?

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Is there really a point in narrating my own loss? Am I losing my grip? Maybe I'm just one of many copies of myself and the family I remember isn't even my own. How would I ever know?

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Sometimes I see myself falling again, like the nightmare I suffered from forever ago. I feel myself gone, dashed against stones, and replaced with something new. God I wish I could elaborate my brain won't stop seizing. I looked into His eyes

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He is nothing but everything, a black pinhole in the sky, a throbbing oozing black cyst on reality. A blight in spirit and physical. He is God unlike any other before

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God, Liar of Opulence, Obsession of Malice

5. The Rot

When things die, they fall apart. Decay, rot, decompose. And in many different spaces, I have died. And there is no greater cage than a casket.

But what's worse, is when you rot standing up. I've always thought the concept of zombies was creepy. I couldn't imagine my body as a vessel for the hunger for brains. However I came face-to-face with not one, but two. In one of these spaces where my doppelgänger lies, I watched a horrific story unfold.

I was driven mad by yet another eldritch god-like figure. I remember wearing a mask and instantly being thrown into the backseat of my own mind. I was forced to do hideous things, and despite having been able to remove the mask on many an occasion, I felt empty. Wrong. I mimicked the personality of the mask to no avail. My only salvation was to mimic it; I stitched my mouth shut. Just like my mask. I offered myself and another mask as a sacrifice to this dark lord pulling at the strings of these masks.

I lit myself ablaze and threw myself and my sacrifice into the running river. Our bodies were found with the masks melted to the corpse. Charred and peeling, our bodies were sent to a morgue. But despite our souls having left those bodies, we moved. We stood right the fuck up and left. I can only assume the masks are piloting my cadaver to make whatever ends meet that they have.

Unfortunately, I had my own encounter. It lasted no longer than 3 minutes, but both my body and the sacrifice's body saw me. Became curious, and prayed to their dark lord for answers. I suppose they got them, because I have been seeing those masks everywhere I turn. Running for years from myself is a pretty niche genre, but here we are.

I just wish that was the only reason I'm back here writing again. 

P.S.  Fuck passwords, am I right?

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4. Haunting Myself

I see how long it's been since I made any sort of update, and I'd like to apologize. I say I'd like to, but I didn't plan on it. I've spent years trying to get these monsters off of my back, and in the process I've learned much about them. Unfortunately they aren't the real monsters I should be worried about.

It is myself.

Last year, I was cornered by the monsters and experienced something you might call a spiritual epiphany. I was whisked away to another broken place, much like my own. And in this space I saw myself, going through various phases of life. It was as if my life was flashing before my eyes, I believed at the time I was dying. But it was something far more sinister.

I saw various versions of myself, and they all ended up dead. One of my visages wore a bloodied mask, gore pouring out of the eyes and the mouth sewn shut as it was engulfed in flames. Even after the burning and the rotting the corpse still carried itself to serve a dark lord.

Another visage was thrown into a land devoid of all life, forced to be chased by his own aforementioned shadows, lurking behind masks.

Another visage was tormented by the same black-headed being as I, and ultimately became a sole survivor much like I. He is gone forever.

And then I was forced to relive my own waking nightmare, the likes of which you are already familiar and need no further explanation.

That brings us to the here and now. I am being manipulated by my own likeness, something darker pulling the strings. Something I cannot explain, as I haven't found any way to combat this dreary staccato. They come closer, I can feel them rending my mind. I can feel her potent, on my skin like sunshine devoid of light. Th eheat without the image.

Please stay tuned for updates. I will not allow myself to be caged again.