Everybody lies

I've written and deleted the content of this post over twenty times now. I can't find the right words to convey how I feel about this topic and what I'm trying to tell you guys. My original post was slightly over 2000 words, but proofreading it only showed me how incredibly lost I was whilst writing it. I rambled on from one topic to the other without structure or a set idea in mind. I kept writing until I felt satisfied about letting out all my bottled up emotions, but the last thing I want to do is put it up on the web.

After a lot of thought, the title 'Everybody lies' seemed most suitable for this post. This is how I feel:

I feel broken. My childhood friend-- my best friend... no, former best friend, left me about a year and a half ago. It's actually hard to pinpoint exactly when because we've always had an on and off type of friendship since I was never exactly the most thoughtful and selfless person in the world. I did a lot of things I regret, but I don't understand why we stopped talking over something so stupid. Perhaps it's my fault for not trying hard enough to get her back, but when she told me she was through, I took it to heart, and I tried my best to accept it. She was too good for me anyway. She was amazing. An excellent artist, highly intelligent, funny as hell... oh and she was very beautiful. Meanwhile there was me-- bland. There's nothing I can say to describe my personality in a positive light. I'm narcissistic and apathetic, emotionally detached from the world and as so many have put it "heartless".

I knew her since birth. I have very fond memories of our time as children, how we were so carefree and didn't fully grasp the idea of friendship and its importance. There were also a lot of bad memories, but when I try to think back to those exact memories, all I see is a giant blur. I've despised and denied my past for so long that I've completely erased it from my memories. All I know now is that I was an outcast as a child; I was overweight, and kids didn't want to play with me as much as they did with her. I was left out of a lot of activities not only because I wasn't accepted, but because I was also physically incapable of having a normal childhood. I spent most of my time on the computer or playing video games because the real world was so cruel. I established friendships with people online and faked everything about myself for fear that if they knew who they were really talking to, they too would leave me.

I've grown up a lot since then. I didn't turn out the way I wanted to, but I've lied to myself for so long that I've accepted these lies as reality. I tell myself that the reason why people don't want to be friends with me is because they know I won't make time for them, but really, I think I'm too mysterious for their liking; the fact that I don't open up to them is suspicious. I'm hiding who I am and what I've become because I'm lonely enough as it is. If you go back to my earlier post in January (I think it's my third), I say that I really only have 4 friends who genuinely want to hang out with me. Now I have none. Except now it's different. Now I don't care. I don't want friends because with friendship comes trust, and with trust comes lies. And lies end up with someone getting hurt.

I don't want to hurt anymore. It's a very cliche thing to say, but after I lost my friendship with her, I started to drift away from everybody. I figured if somebody who cheered me at my best and comforted me at my worst; somebody who knew everything about me... couldn't even stand the sight of me anymore, there would be no more light at the end of the tunnel.

To this day I tell myself the reason she left me was because of that one incident where we made plans, but I forgot I already had to do something, so I told her "next time", and when my plans for that day were cancelled, I figured I'd take it as a day off to just relax, but when I told her, she wouldn't have it. I had betrayed her.
I tell myself that this is the reason she left me, but I know she's too good of a person to leave for such a simple reason. There's so much more to it, and though I haven't spoken to her in a long time, I will see her again in 18 days.

I just hope she still thinks about me as much as I've thought about her, because I'm terrified of closing this chapter of my life for good. As much as I want closure, I'd still like to lie to myself into believing that the reason for her departure was not entirely on me-- that she had some issues of her own. And hypothetically speaking, if she tells me it isn't completely my fault, I still might not believe it... Everybody lies.

But as long as she's with me, I'm willing to lie to myself for the rest of my life.

Struggling with due dates?

For people in Sydney, school starts tomorrow, so I figure I'd at least give you a 'cheat' that helped me plenty of times in my junior years (I didn't need to rely on it at all in my senior years)

If you need extra time to finish off an assignment, grab a jpg (image), mp3 (music file) or some other media file and rename it to whatever your essay is about-- eg "My Awesome essay.doc" [The
.doc at the end of the name will make your computer save it as if it were a document] The 'paper' will look 'corrupt' and it'll buy you at least a day or two to finish it off.

Asylum

When I was ten, I played a late night game of flashlight tag with a bunch of neighborhood kids. If you don't know what flashlight tag is, it's the same as tag, but you play it in the dark, the person who's "it" gets a flashlight, and they have to yell the name of the person they see with it in order to "tag" them. It was really cloudy that night, and most people had their curtains drawn, so it was the perfect level of darkness for hiding in.

The side of the street my house was on was skirted by a broad length of woods. That was basically the boundary for our side of the game. You could run through any yard, even go across the street and run through their yards, but you weren't allowed to hide in the woods, because it was too difficult to find anyone in there, and it was very easy to trip over tree limbs or end up with poison oak. Of course, this rule was frequently and flagrantly ignored when people got too close to being caught. They'd duck off into the bushes for a few seconds, or run behind a group of trees to evade capture.

I don't remember who was it at the time, but I was hiding in a backyard two houses down from my house. The family that lived there had a little playhouse for their daughter, a swing set and a doghouse but no dog. I would periodically duck into the doghouse whenever I saw the flashlight's searching beam approaching. Those of us trying to hide from the "it" person liked to spook each other in the dark by jumping out of nowhere and making each other scream, giving away our positions.

I thought I knew where the "it" guy was, but I got comfortable hanging out on the swing set. Suddenly, a person with a flashlight came around the corner of the house and angled it almost directly at me. I jumped and ran for the edge of the woods. When I got there, I hovered in case they saw me and were going to yell at me for cheating. The beam of light seemed to explore the swing set where I was, then came in my direction, but there was no sense of hurry at all to it, and I wondered for a second if maybe I'd attracted the attention of the homeowner. Most people on the block knew we were out playing flashlight tag, but you never can be sure that someone won't get nervous if you stay in their yard too long. So I crouched down in the grass and waited to see who it was.

They shined the light right in my face and I tried to cover it with my hand to avoid identification. The creepy thing was, they never said anything, just shined that light on me.

"You got me!" I exclaimed, hoping that if it was a homeowner, they'd realize I thought they were the flashlight tagger. Then I realized that two houses down, people were yelling and there was the "it" guy's flashlight beam chasing them around.

I stood up and tried to see who was shining the light on me. They just stood there, not moving, not saying anything. I felt a little freaked out.

"If you don't want us playin' in your yard, I'll go tell them it's off limits, okay?"

The person started walking toward me. I didn't feel right, so I started walking toward the edge of the yard. The person just kept shining the light on me and coming toward me.

So I ran.

When I looked back, the person with the flashlight was running too, and they were an adult, much bigger and much faster than me. I felt scared now, not sure why this person was chasing me. I was running toward where the other kids had been, but they were gone now. It just seemed to be me and the person with the flashlight. So I turned right and ducked into the woods. I dropped to the ground, shaking bushes and stuff to try to confuse the person, then shimmied under a ring of thick bushes and curled up. I could see the flashlight in the woods with me, looking around. I could hear the person's footsteps breaking sticks and crunching on pine needles. I didn't know what the fuck was going on, and I just wanted to get back to all the other kids. Eventually, the flashlight wandered deeper into the woods and I crawled quiet as a mouse back to the edge of the trees and then got up and ran toward the street.

I was immediately caught by the person who was "it", but I didn't care. He yelled loud that I was now "it" and I tried to tell him that there was someone else with a flashlight wandering around in the woods, but he took off into the dark yelling about "no tag backs".

"Don't go in the woods!" I yelled, but nobody responded. Of course, any who heard me would just assume I was talking about not cheating at the game, but I was sincerely worried about that person wandering around in them. Of course, now I had a flashlight of my own, so I thought, I should go and see if I can find out who that was, just to make myself feel better.

I went back behind the house I'd come from and a bunch of laughing shadows scampered out of sight into neighboring yards. I ignored them and headed straight for the trees. I couldn't see any other light in there, so I thought, maybe he went home. I didn't know if it was a man or a woman, but I didn't imagine any women trudging through the woods at night.

So I went about playing the game again, albeit anxious because of the lingering thought that there was someone wandering in the woods who didn't seem to be playing the game with us. I ran across the street and chased people through the backyards there, but after a while I found the lots empty and realized that they must have gone back across the street. I ran back over and was exploring the Beeches' backyard. Mrs. Beeche had a clothesline with a bunch of drying sheets on it, and her daughter Charlotte liked to hide among the linens and stay close to home in case she got too scared of the dark. She was only a year younger than me.

I thought I heard something at the tree line, so I went over and was waving the flashlight around into the woods.

"Stay outta the woods!" I remember yelling. I waved the flashlight back and forth a couple more passes, then saw someone off in the distance. I held the light on whoever it was. They were about half a job into the woods, hard to make out, but it looked to me like Charlotte. Charlotte had brown hair that her mother insisted on keeping shoulder length. We always dressed dark for flashlight tag, and Charlotte liked to wear this deep purple sweatshirt, so it was usually easy to tell when you had found her.

"Charlotte I see you!" I yelled. She just stood there. I continued to hold the light on her and call her name, but she didn't seem to move. She stood there partially obscured by a tree and looked at me. The distance between us was enough that I couldn't see if she was blinking or not, but she had her head propped at an angle like she was looking around the trunk at me with her mouth hanging slightly open. Every now and then she sorta twitched or squirmed. It was a real freaky kinda movement.

"Charlotte! Come out of there!" I yelled. "Everybody! Charlotte's it, but she won't come out of the woods!" Some kids including my friend Dustin appeared behind me and started joining in my yell for Charlotte to come out.

"Do you see her?" I asked.

"Yeah, she's over behind that tree. Charlotte, get over here!" Dustin said. But she wouldn't come. "Charlotte, are you okay? Get over here, dummy!"

Charlotte seemed to stand up straighter and then disappear behind the tree. We could hear movement, but it seemed to be going away rather than toward us. Dustin started shouting Charlotte's name again and trudging into the woods after her, but I grabbed him and gave him the flashlight to take with him. I was scared again, because this all seemed surreal. I went to Charlotte's house and knocked until her father answered.

"Mr. Beeche, Charlotte won't come out of the woods, and I'm worried about her," I told him. I wasn't sure if he'd take me seriously, but he rolled up his newspaper and disappeared into the closet behind the door for a moment before returning with a huge flashlight strapped to a car battery.

"Show me where she is," he told me, so I lead him to the woods and pointed to where I'd seen her.

"She was right there," I said, "by a tree, but she wouldn't come out and she was acting like she was sick or something." A bunch of the other kids kept calling Charlotte, Charlotte and I could see Dustin's flashlight beam moving around through the trees. Mr. Beeche went in after him.

They explored the woods for a good fifteen to twenty minutes, and Mr. Beeche started getting real angry. We could hear him yelling very loudly for Charlotte, threatening her with all sorts of punishments if she didn't get her ass back in the backyard that instant. The game was over by now, and we kids just stood there in the Beeches' back yard among the linens and watched. Dustin came running back out of the bushes with a dead flashlight. Eventually, Mr. Beeche came back out of the woods.

"Game over, kids," he said, "Get inside. Ask your folks if they can help me and to bring flashlights."

We all ran back home. My dad went out with three different flashlights. My mother went and turned on all the lights in the back rooms and opened the curtains and shades to help illuminate the back yard. I sat on the couch all upset and she eventually came back and hugged me and sat with me while I told her about the person with the flashlight chasing me and how I thought maybe Charlotte had run into him.

Mr. Beeche had gone inside and called them to report a missing child. They brought huge lights and did a march through the woods checking very thoroughly, but didn't find her. My mother told my dad what I'd told her, he told an officer and I ended up giving a statement. They went to the house three doors down and knocked, but the folks that lived there had been asleep and didn't know who would have been in their backyard. The police asked all up and down the neighborhood, but nobody claimed to know anything.

The other end of the woods came to a back road mainly used by logging trucks. They found Charlotte two days later, on the other side of the logging road, down an embankment that ended at a stream, stuffed into a drain pipe. Her neck had been broken and she was apparently stabbed multiple times afterward. My parents wouldn't tell me about it, they thought it would upset me, but Dustin told me all the details at school the next day.

It was the most awful thing our town had ever had happen. The police blocked off the logging road and spent months tracking down loggers and truckers who frequently used it. There was a curfew for months and we were told not to play flashlight tag anymore. We didn't argue.

What leaves me shaking to this day is the memory of Charlotte's face, hanging out from behind the tree, looking at me. Sometimes I wonder if at that moment, I had been witnessing her death. And I wonder if that had almost been me.

Please don't read this

You must trust me. I have one piece of advice and you must follow it without question: you must stop reading this and go straight to the last paragraph. Do so without reading any other paragraphs, and do it now. Please... trust me.

What happens next is entirely your fault. You failed the test and now you're in danger. I didn't write this. They made me write this. It's my fingers on the keyboard, that's all, and your eyes on these words. Whatever happens, do not look away from these words. Keep reading until I tell you otherwise. And when I tell you otherwise, do exactly as I say. For if you do not read this exactly how I tell you to, you will die. Listen carefully. First, you must skip the paragraph that follows this one. Whatever you do, you must never read the paragraph following this one. You must ignore it completely, casting your eyes down to the paragraph that follows it. Promise me. For the sake of those you hold dear. This is your only chance to redeem yourself for not trusting me earlier. Skip the paragraph following this one, and do so now.

The Forbidden Paragraph: You had to do it, didn't you? They knew you would. Nothing you do now will make any difference. If there are people you love, call them. Tell them whatever people tell their loved ones when they know they're about to die. Settle any scores. Make your final arrangements. For from this moment on, you will stay alive only as long as you can stay awake. The next time you fall asleep will be your last. They're watching you. They're listening to your thoughts. They'll wait for you. And when you fall asleep, they'll come for you. You should have trusted me.

If you skipped the paragraph above, you've done well. But your troubles are not over. For placing your trust in me at the second asking, you have given yourself a chance to live. This is what you need to know. They're watching you. They're listening to your thoughts. They're waiting for you to make a mistake. When you do, they'll come for you. To stay alive, you must draw blood. Today, tomorrow, and every day. You must draw blood from someone you love. A drop, that's all, and place it on your tongue. That's what they want. That's what they need. They're inside you right now. And they're waiting. If between waking up and falling asleep you fail to deliver the blood of a loved one, you will never wake up again. Follow this advice. And never, ever go back and read the forbidden paragraph. Trust me.

If you followed my advice in the first paragraph, well done. You can stop reading now. But never, ever be tempted to come back and read the paragraphs you skipped. You must trust me. And please, wish me luck. I'm tired... so tired. You just can't imagine...

Respect

Since the evolution to mammals, we've understood the idea of respect. All mammals understand this idea-- it's universal. Looking at our own lives we see that everybody holds some respect for another person, maybe even multiple people, but the conflicting issue is that what I respect, you may not for whatever reason. But as I mentioned before, the idea is universal. We all know what respect is and why we respect something. To clarify, I'll present you with an example. I respect a comedian named George Carlin, and you may ask why respect a comedian, but it's simple. He is a truthful man, and he agrees with my ideologies, as well as being very hilarious, but it's not only these qualities that earns him my respect-- it's the way he challenges peoples beliefs through intellectual inquiries. He makes people laugh and think at the same time, and lets be honest here, the modern man is either intelligent or stupid; the middle ground is being blurred through years of procreation in environments where they aren't being intellectually stimulated. This leads to an exponential rise in 'followers' who believe in anything they're told without questioning it for themselves.

If you could pick up on the connotations and implications in the above paragraph, you can infer that those we respect influence and shape our outlook on life-- the people we surround ourselves with, the way we think and act, our beliefs and ideologies, our behavior, all influenced by those we look up to. This is what I like to call the CHOICE part of respect, the more modern view of the idea of respect. To elaborate, previous generations would argue that you don't have a choice in the matter, and especially when it comes to parents or elders, you must hold respect for those above you.
Personally, I think it's all a load of horse shit. People need to EARN your respect. It should not be mandatory. But if you put yourself in their shoes, there is only one factor that I think influenced why they believed respect should be mandatory: knowledge. Before mass communication, what would be your source of knowledge? There was no internet, and the only way you'd obtain new knowledge is if you go to a library, and even then you'd have to know what you're looking for; so we can conclude that they respected their elders and parents because they were knowledgeable-- wise. Advice came only from your closest circle, so if you didn't respect somebody, do you think they'd share their wisdom with you? Probably not.

Now that we have a gargantuan archive of knowledge and wisdom known as the world wide web, our elders become almost obsolete. Anything and everything can found on the web, so now we've 'evolved' to beings who can CHOOSE who we want to respect because there is a wider spectrum of people who agree with our opinions and ideas. No more are we forced to assimilate for the sake of fear of alienation. Our elders don't see eye to eye on the younger generations with this, and the way they were raised, their stubbornness will most likely never allow them to accept this idea.

Let me tell you a story, and this is 100% accurate, because I want you, the reader, to understand what I'm trying to say and understand how different we are from our elders.
My brothers and I were discussing the idea of teaching a child obedience; their idea was that the child should respect their parents from the get-go, and when they misbehave, they should be beaten until they apologise and promise not to do it again. Ladies and gentlemen, this is how we break our children. Think about how bad it'll affect their psychological state as they grow up, how much fear they will hold to authoritative figures or speaking up against those who are of much higher status then they are. I told them those very words, and they shook it off, saying that it doesn't affect them mentally; and again this is the older generation speaking. They don't know anything about the human brain or the impact of specific actions on a persons psychological state and mental well-being, all they know is that they're older than you, so they can do whatever they want.

A more modern and conventional method now doesn't involve harsh beatings; the last thing we need is a bunch of adults too scared to speak up against overbearing, power-hungry authoritative figures who pick on the 'little guy' because he's too afraid to stand up for what he believes in. We need to teach the future generations to understand the difference between right and wrong, the difference between voicing your opinion and talking back. In order to do this, we need to raise them on the premise that in order to be respected, you need to show respect.

Extinguished

Though things didn't work out, you'll always be a brother to me. I don't want to dwell on this anymore. I've gotten closure, and I've accepted my present circumstances. My only wish is that I never went out with her. Maybe then we'd still be best friends. Maybe we could have stayed how we were: always joking around, having a good time, messing with each other; and at the end of the day, never afraid to say 'I love you', because that's what true friendship is about: the disregard of societies views on men showing their affection for each other.

I remember when we agreed that we wouldn't care if people called us homosexuals or insulted us for saying 'I love you' because there's nothing wrong with it. There's nothing wrong with it. Cause if you really care for a brother, you wouldn't care what other people have to say about it. Life is short, and you never know if they'll be there tomorrow. So tell them you appreciate the bromance-- your sacred bond. It may seem stupid at first, but if you lost your best friend and didn't tell them you loved them and value your friendship, then you'll live with so much regret... so much guilt; it'll eat you up inside, and you won't be able to do anything about it.

If I could do it all again, I wouldn't have even talked to her. I WOULDN'T HAVE EVEN FUCKING LOOKED AT HER IF THAT'S WHAT IT WOULD'VE TOOK TO KEEP YOU BY MY SIDE... but that means nothing now. I have to live with the decisions I've made; and I deeply regret it so.

Nuclear arms race

Honestly, my opinion of the nuclear arms race is very bias; of course I've never experienced a nuclear holocaust or invented any sort of nuclear weapon, but it's painfully obvious that these weapons of mass destruction pose a threat to our very existence.

If you're a logical person, you'd know that the nuclear arms race is an all-around stupid idea, and for those that don't know what this topic is about, it's basically nations around the world competing for dominance over nuclear warfare by inventing nuclear weapons.
And if you're wondering what I mean by the nuclear arms race being a stupid idea, I guess what I'm trying to say is that a nuclear weapon won't simply destroy your enemies. It'll destroy entire ecosystems, societies and even countries, not to mention our environment. And the effects wont only be experienced in the site it impacted, it'll spread to bordering areas and affect the general population for generations to come through impacting our genetic mutation. Just look at the impact of Vietnam using chemical warfare; the effects are still experienced today. Now just multiply the impact of Vietnam by a thousand, and that will give anybody a general idea of the ferocity of nuclear weapons.

In all honesty, I feel that governments that brag about the amount of nuclear weapons they possess are just bluffing. It's all a bluff. Anybody would know that with countries forming alliances with one another, deploying one nuclear missile will result in retaliation with more nuclear weapons; and in a matter of moments, our billions of years of struggle to sustain our lives on planet Earth will all be in vain.

If there's one analogy that sums up this topic, it's that the nuclear arms race is like 2 men standing in a pool of gasoline. One with 3 matches, and the other with 5.

Overthinking

Another one of those days where the world seems to lose its gravity and you're floating above ground, trying to fathom the unfathomable. Death. Once you acknowledge it, it consumes you. It'll rob you of all thought and leave you to swim in its vast, unending sea of mystery and fright. To experience death; to understand... to acknowledge and accept that there is simply nothing beyond our short life. Simply nothing. Not even thought. Not the slightest. It's so frustrating... and haunting. It haunts me in my sleep, and in my wake; the anything and everything that will happen in the universe that I shan't experience following my death; it's so frightening.

It's that feeling of going to bed at night, closing your eyes, as if waking up again was a given... as if it was promised. But it isn't, and in this lifetime, it will never be. And like most nights, the lack of a dream goes unnoticed; opening your eyes reveals a new day-- a new dawn. The time in between completely lost. It felt like a second, but it wasn't. You'd been asleep for several hours, but it is only until you've thought about it that you realise the period between shut eye and rising was nothing. Not white, not black; describing that nothingness is almost impossible. It's a void of nothing. And it's what we'll experience after life... for all eternity. Nothing at all, for all the years and centuries and millenniums of the unfolding of the events of the universe, you will only have lived in a small portion of it-- a speck of dust in the ever grand design of our existence and the existence of other living creatures. But you will take to the grave only what you've experienced and learned in your life time and the knowledge you've obtained of your ancestors-- you will take it all to the void of nothing. And it is unrelenting. It does not care who you are; you are nothing. Everything will continue, and you will not.

And the nerve of some people to say not to fear death.