Troll around the world

Ahh yes, I've got my very own troll now.  Everyone welcome the hypocrite Sufjan McBride .  He enjoys uhm...well fuckall, outside of shoving some poor soul off a goddamn balcony and going out of his way to make me feel as bad as he does inside, I don't know what the little prick likes!

All I know is he's asking for a beating with the way things are going.  Think about it, I've got no job, no committments aside to my own sanity, and nothing but fucking time.    That right there is a good recipe for "Shut your damn mouth". 

Which brings me to the thought of the day,  threats, grievances and in general mayhem.  Everyone's a fucking action hero/ine, if you haven't noticed.  And while it's a bit hypocritical of me to lambast this right after issuing a "Smackdown, Party of 1" request, I'll admit to it myself just a hair.

So what is it that makes proxy threats so....blase?  Let's hypothetically say I say, "I'm going to kill you, and rape your dog." or some sick shit.  Invariably.   INVARIABLY the accused Runner or whomever will say some bullshit like... "Bring It, I'm packing a .35 herpaderpaherp with 5 million herpaderp rounds, and I've got herp herp herp herp..."  Its always about what they've got.

Fuck that.  I don't give a shit what you want to make people think, I know a person who really knows tactics wouldn't say a god damn word about having a claymore mine in his backyard, or a rifle and ammo within easy access.  So, what we've got is an inflated sense of security, and most likely a fantastic sense of make-believe.

That same false bravado that people throw on when they're shitting themselves because a FUCKING FACELESS MONSTER IS STALKING THEM.   Everyone here who's reading this, has either seen Faceless or knows enough to be afraid.  Let's not sugarcoat it,  hell I've broken down into tears twice, and soiled myself once.  I admit it, and I defy any of you to tell me you didn't at least pucker up tight when he ambushed you.

Now, to be a bit more realistic, why don't I just lay out what I'm working with, where I am.  

Not much.   When you're a homeless ass guy, ducking out of sight of the law, and have motherfucking bandages on your face and hands...shit doesn't go your way.  But hell that's the hand I'm dealt, so that's what I've got.  Really the only thing I've got is a shitload of time, and that's it.

Or at least, that's all I'm willing to admit to.

Much like an open wound

Been rough lately.  Still cold as fuck out here.  Cut off from everything I used to have in a different life.

Fucking Faceless sometimes showing up, freaking me the hell out.   Its........getting easier? I guess?  I mean, I'm not shrieking like a girl or shitting my pants or anything, but its so goddamn unnerving.  And he's not like, telling me shit to do or anything.

I mean, he doesn't have a fucking side! He's just there, and he has zero fucks to give.

So all this proxy shit, I can't figure it the fuck out.  How mental are these guys?  I mean I'm desperate, that's no surprise, I'm at the point I'd throw an old lady under a bus if it meant he'd be done with me.
He doesn't communicate
he doesn't care, he's just standing the fuck there

Saw him earlier tonight.  Homeless shelter.  Cuz its cold and there's food.
Now admittedly I draw a lot of looks.  I mean, I'm a motherfucking mummy with a red hoodie with a big ole  (X) on it. 
Either that or its cuz I have a laptop.   Damn good thing too, its the only thing that can really, I dunno, attach me to what life used to be like? 

Anyway, so the monster, the Slender Man he just pops in when I wasn't looking.  Other side of the room, quiet as a ghost and he's looking this way.  Doesn't take psychic powers to notice him in the room.  I may have stifled a yelp before I moved.

So this big guy, I mean BIG guy, we're talking 400 pound dude takes an interest in me, as I scurry the motherfuck away.  I get sort of belligerant, thought he was coming for the laptop, but no, he's sort of worried about me.

Guy out of the blue, motherfuckin cares.  How's that for a surprise? 
Fucking Faceless pops in again, behind him, about 20 feet away.  And this guy is yakking and talking, and wanting me to respond, and I can't do shit, because he's RIGHT THERE, my heart's going a mile a minute, and I swear he gets larger, well, taller, and just less..less right.  All spindly and shit.

This guy, who I probably'd call a fat fuck if he was an asshole, he tries to figure out what I've got a problem with.  He turns around
he doesn't see shit.  Good for him.
but he keeps looking
and he's talking
and he keeps looking


and then he must've seen
because I know the look he had on his face very, very well. 
and he panicked, and he fell.
and then he ran.

and then the fat one and the thin one were gone.
and I wonder.
Did I cause this?

I was staring at him.  I made him look, made him SEE, didn't I?

and I can't help but think

"Now you know, what my problem is."

"Now you know, whats wrong with life, with everything."

Now you get to face the terror that I do, every damn day

There's something strangely satisfying about all this, its so wrong to say it

I mean I sort of liked the guy, he was nice, and he seemed to have a real interest in helping

but

Misery loves company.

What do you see in a prism?

So there's this guy calling himself Bluelight.  As in the bluelight special.  Nah, we all know he's playing off of the names Greenlight and Redlight.

I don't really care either way, but it makes me fuckin think.  What do I think about Redlight, eh?  I mean I was a chump he was using for a body, I think.  Explains the red hoodie and camo pants and shit.

Well, first it was all, "oh shit, this is who I am.  So now I just need to rediscover myself."

Doesn't
Fucking
Work
okay?

Its not like I got memories of the dude really.  I guess its just somethin I wanted to be, you know?  Some cool manipulative cat, ran the show, was in control.   Wasn't scared of shit, had his act together.
Shit's tight, you see.

I was all, aww yeah, lets go break shit, and I'll pick things up, and do some terror.  I'll be on the CAUSING end of this shit.  Be in control. 

Fuck no, that doesn't work.

I ain't him.  It just ain't how it goes.  I mean, I do get weird thoughts occasionally, but is that shit just me going nuts, or maybe I'm getting a couple of suppressed memories or something, back when I was being used as a puppet?

Fuck, if anything, I should be motherfucking LIVID at this guy.  He comes over and does SOMETHING to me, fucks me up good, and that's when my shit went downhill like it was on goddamn rocket skis.

So Fuck him.  I guess.

I dunno man, do I change out my gear now?  Do I make my own persona, change my handle, be someone else?  Maybe.  But in truth, I sort of like the image, I guess.  Motherfucking creepy.  Makes me feel...I dunno, like I've got something to hide, that I've got some little bit of control in my life.  Its probably just that persona shit I've read about by that rabbit head dude. 

The idea's somethin like, you add layers to your own personality, and it makes it harder for shit to get to you.  Its fucking make believe, but I kinda get it.  Makes me think that there's some use to it.  What with all the muthafuckers running around in masks.  I mean, shit happens for a reason, right?  Fifty fallen dudes can't be all wrong, 

Take back life, just a little,  just a wee bit of control of who you are.  Who I am.  And maybe, just maybe, that little fucking sliver of who you pretend to be, maybe that shit's what'll save you.

All I know is I feel a damn sight better, knowing at least on a fucking blog, I can pretend to be a little more badass, or maybe a little more than just some dude that shits his drawers when a goddamn monster shows itself.

Maybe thats what we all do?

So at what point does this blissful Nirvana, that is surrender, start?    I haven't seen it in a few days, but that's hardly good news.  Night's a fucking terror, sleeping in an alley or wherever, knowing, just knowing that its out there close by, probably watching me.  I'm walking around fucking invisible, just another bum on the street, and if this horseshit isn't bad enough, I got my reply from Messenger, which amounted to 'Ask me if I give a fuck."

No shit.  Asshole's supposed to be some coordinator bullshit, guy's a douchebag, after spending all that time bitching about our side, and that we're all still human somewhere, he goes and tells me to fuck off.

Whatever.  Beginning to think its like that everywhere.  People just looking out for number one.  I get it, I guess.  I wouldn't hesitate to throw someone under a bus to get some rest nowadays.

Maybe that's what I need to do?  Maybe I should start sharing the misery, introduce some other fuckers to this shithive life.  Show THEM why they should've cared, why it IS their problem too.

I. Don't. Know.

I can't get a grip, it's as simple as that.  There's just nothing else to my life anymore, there's no pieces to pick up.  There's just Faceless and a guy who has gotten burned.  How can you fight that?

I live to serve
I live to serve
i live to serve
I live to serve
I live to serve

just please stop it  please