Tuesday, March 15, 2011

I've been thinking and its its like this.

I loved her. I loved Gwen. More then I can say, even if it was all synthesized, even if it was a lie, a trap. And reading her posts. She felt the same way.

I killed her. With my bare hands. She cried and kissed me as I choked the life out of her, as I beat her. She died smiling. And now she's gone.

Its why I can't post anymore. I can't stomach looking at myself.
I can't forgive any of you. You brought be back into this world. You pulled me out of a world where I would have died in the arms of a woman I loved, even if my lifespan was shortened.

I can't forgive Plaster. He pulled me out, made her look like a villain, just so he could get me alone again. He's dead too. That's the only fighting back she did. She killed him while he choked the life out of her.

And I can never forgive myself for not stopping the Squeezing.

It's why I was so useless. I can't kill anymore. I won't take another life.

Not even, no matter how much I deserve it, my own.

I will finish what was started. But I will not play the Hero any more.

I don't deserve even that Illusion any more.

I used to think I was Hero Material. Like the Big Hero. Potentially the next White King. I would do something incrdible with my imaginary friend.

But I did nothing before and nothing now, except hurt innocents, be a dick and kill the only woman I've ever loved.

I've been doing a lot of thinking, tonight.


  1. This is going to sound absolutely insane, and I don't expect you to believe me. I've been here before.

    It never gets easier. You're going to carry this to the grave. Get out if you can. Plasterface conned us all, and I wish to god someone had seen it. After my brush with this kind of situation, I wish I had found a way to walk away...but it's not physically possible for me anymore.

    You will never feel a pain worse than this. If you can, get away. Come back if you ever come to terms with it, but no one can ask you to keep fighting after THIS. I am sorry.

  2. I can't stop. I won't.

    I will finish what was started.

    I don't care if I die. No one else will die. Not if I can help it.

  3. Blame it all on him, will ya?
    I don't quite believe it. Not because I like Gibbs, but because he actually tried to keep us quiet. He hid a message in the blog that told us to shut up about Gwen. In his emails he begged me to let him sleep and he actually was the one to doubt our idea of waking you up. He was gone well before you came to, Slice, or he would have answered my emails.

    Something is rotten with you, Sir. I don't trust your words at all.

    You probably don't trust me either, as you see me siding with Gibbs in your mental vision. But it wasn't him who pulled you out - it was her who set you free. The only true thing is that we convinced her to do so.

    If she did it.

    I don't even know anymore and I'll stay out of your business, but my statement stays, bitter and hard against your obvious sadness. There's something rotten about this whole thing. And if I value the credibility of a split personality born from childhood dreams higher than that one of a real person, that should mean one thing or the other.

    If it's not you, then it's something else. But something's not right.