Another old post, ah the nostalgia...
I take a step back from life, and survey the world I live in. My world. My only world. This blue green mass in the dark expanse of space. This blue-green mass is the only thing in thousands of miles that supports life. Oh. I live there. That blue green mass. Where do you live? That blue green mass. That blue-green ugly, ugly mass. To be the person behind the camera, behind the camera, behind the camera is quite a pleasant feeling. You see the world as an ironically beautiful place. Where the ugliness of both the planet and human nature paints a Picasso right in front of your eyes. A dash of ethnic cleansing, a splash of genocide, a sprinkle of rape, a dab of manslaughter, the fine brush strokes of torture paint a breathtaking, bittersweet, lovely, lovely picture. Blood and gore do make good paints, and the world is like a never-ending canvas.
The detachment from the world only serves to remind you of the beautiful ugliness of us. The warm, fuzzy feeling you get when you see the picture painted for you is only amplified by watching us. We, the ones who deforest at a rate of football fields every second. We, the ones who would stick a blade in someone just for pieces of paper. We, the ones who butcher animals just to fill our stomachs. We, the ones who cause the deaths of millions of people every year because someone, somewhere doesn’t like something. To kill is human, does it make it a humane thing to do? For what we are, face the fact that we delight in the suffering of others. Face the fact that we yearn for blood and gore. Movie makers know that if they don’t portray sex, blood, violence or conflict, their movie will never, ever sell. We crave chaos. We crave the beauty of a blood-soaked battlefield. We crave the clash and conflict of human beings. We yearn for conflict and disaster. The worse someone’s plight is, the more interested people will be. That’s why we have reality TV, we have survivor wherever and Fear factor. The TV is just a box where you can satisfy your lust for chaos. That’s what makes it so interesting. Welcome to humanity, I’m sorry we don’t accept second-hand lives.
We were all brought up to go against our nature. We were brought up to know that we are all god’s little children. What if god doesn’t like you? What if gods abhors your ugly face? What if god never did want you? What if god just wanted to appreciate the beautiful ugliness of human nature? Let chaos reign I say. If god doesn’t like us, let it be. Why do we always have to do things to please him when he has never done anything for us? We did not ask to be born into this ugly world. I’m sorry, the gift of life is non-transferable. Shatter the Ten Commandments, denounce the 13 apostles, throw the crucifix out the window, assassinate the pope. We are not bounded by rules. We were born. And being born gives you the right to shine. And our ugly ugly selves will shine like a beacon in the blood-tainted sky. The picture we paint will be appreciated by all. Let us face who we really are. We are human, addicted to chaos, pain and suffering. We are human. We were born with the right to shine. Shine like a beacon. The beacon of fear power and absolute chaos. Absolution is our solution, none shall be spared. Let us walk the street with lust in our heart and blood on our hands. For we are humans, and humans we shall be.
Your being small does not serve the world. Rise from your obedient selves and be what you were meant to be. Original sin shows that we really are. When Adam ate the apple, he knew it was wrong but disobedience of a higher power delighted him. He was invigorated by the experience. As we are like Adam, we want to break free. Your adherence to rules only serves to remind you of your invisible leash around your neck – like a dog. Break free. Disregard authority and do what you were meant to do. We are god’s unwanted children, start acting like it. We shall burn our name on the skies and carve our name on the earth. You are not a part of the rat race. You do not do a 9-5 job till your 95. You are human, you were born free, not a slave to anyone. Do what you were meant to do. Taint the streets with blood. Make those who are less than human scream for mercy. Empower yourself with their cries. Power does not come to you easy. You must snatch it from those who cradle their soul and pacifies it with materialistic possessions and that paper you always see changing hands. Rip out their soul and trample it beneath your feet. Power means control. And control means the ability to destroy. We shall never be slaves to paper or plastic or metal. Take what you need from this world. It is your playground. We are human after all.
Emotions are distractions, conscience is nothing. To feel is a privilege we must compromise. The inability to feel sets you apart to become what you really are. To succumb to your feelings is a weakness displayed by all who have abandoned their humanity. They are slaves to feeling, slaves to conscience, slave to authority. We shall not be tainted by emotions or conscience. Conscience only promotes procrastination. With someone’s head in your left hand and a knife in your right hand, conscience should be the last thing on your mind. The world would not stop for you. You are a runner competing with the world. The world does not like you. The world will do whatever it takes to beat you. You are its enemy. Therefore you must control the world and reign. Nobody owes you a living. Forge a path for yourself or die trying. You are invincible. You are human. Paint the picture you were meant to paint. You are the artist. The world is your canvas. The palette is for your choosing. Paint, and produce your masterpiece. The requiem of souls will be played in your favour, the painter who painted the human race.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Bittersweet...
This is an old old post from a blog which is covered in dust... Since i've not updated for a while, let's put it here.
This is no dream. Neither is it a nightmare. But it happened. Through some sick, ironical act of god, it happened. My past was unceremoniously uprooted and played back in my mind. It was mildly pleasant, in a very warped way. I dreamt about my lost love. What did I do to deserve this? I have moved on with my life and you hit me with this? What kind of sadistic maniac are you? I won’t say I regretted it, in some bittersweet way. But neither would I say I wished it happened.
There was this girl, me, and I was chased by this man in a suit. I escaped from him time and time again, but he still persists, never giving up. I feared being caught and built myself a fortress. This fortress was like a cross between Toys R Us and a scene from SAW. Corpses were strewn all over the floor. Blood was splattered upon the pink wallpaper. The floor was strewn with a jumble of candies, lollipops, beautiful photo frames, syringes, flowers, black boxes and corpses. It filled the room till the door was half covered. I found myself on a contraption that looked like it came from kid sport. The room was half finished and yet the man burst in and demanded audience. And then I cried. I looked like Frankenstein’s bride. Scars covered my face like a white blanket. My eyes were large, round and full of sorrow. Blue. Hair was long and black like those ghosts back for revenge. I wore a white dress which swept the floor. My whole body was covered in scars; from my head to my heel; bruises and wounds from a long time ago. As I cried, black tears like those gaudy women who put too much mascara ran down my face. My tears, were black. They were as black as the velvet blanket covering the sky. They ran down my face leaving little streams of black ink which stained my face the blackest black you have ever seen. Little did I realize that the girl wasn’t me.
I was transported back in time. I am the man with the suit. I was in a scientific facility that looked like it came from some science fiction movie, with those cool wall panels and sliding doors that only serve to remind me of the synthetic nature of myself. We were involved in manufacture. We manufactured dolls. We manufactured dolls which I designed. They were my heart and soul. They were delightful. They looked exactly like the girl from before. I loved them. They had a sad smile on their face which made them look so mysterious. It’s like the dolls have been to heaven, hell and back to live through a second life on earth, knowing how their lives will end. Then suddenly, the manufacturing machine malfunctioned. One of my darling dolls slipped into the machinery and was being ripped apart by the gears. My heart dropped to my stomach. I prayed that it will be all right. I prayed that my darling would be saved from the horrors within. I tried to track its destruction from a monitor in my office which showed my doll with a bright red dot. I clasped and unclasped my hands. Needles of the pistons punctured its flawless skin repeatedly. I uttered a prayer as my doll finally came out and was sent to the reconstruction facility. Screams resounded from within and I panicked. I threw the door open and saw a scientist standing, looking shocked at the doll in the chair. Through some unknown reason, the doll had grown life size and was flawless. No puncture marks could be seen on her skin, no cuts or imperfections. All that was found was soft skin, as smooth as a baby’s. Her hair was a lustrous dark brown. She was wearing a white T-shirt and blue shorts. A little like those athletes you see from the girl schools. She had a gorgeous figure and when she looked at me, I cried. I drew rattling breaths and sobbed my heart out. She smiled at me with that angelic face and said, “I forgive you”. I fell to my knees and cried. That girl was my namesake, the love of my life. If only I could forgive myself.
Flashback, the doll in the Toys R Us cum room of torture. That lovely girl had turned into the abomination I saw right in front of me. I was desperate to change her back to that lovely girl. Rework the magic that made her the lovely girl I knew. My doing had caused her to become like this. It’s as though I was the machine, ripping her apart. Time is a coin you can only spend once. Time waits for no man. Time is our enemy. Although in my heart I knew I could never have her back, I prayed for a miracle. I prayed that she could come back to me just for a moment. I did whatever I could, but the damage was done. She was gone. All that remains is the remains of my destruction. A beautiful doll destroyed by me. Then I woke up, and cried my eyes out. My life forever tainted by this haunting dream. It was neither a dream or a nightmare, it was a reminder of what I was and what I will always be. A destroyer of lives unworthy and incapable of love. May she forgive me and my ugly ugly soul. And now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the lord my soul to keep, if I die before I wake, I pray the lord my soul to take. Please kill me.
This is no dream. Neither is it a nightmare. But it happened. Through some sick, ironical act of god, it happened. My past was unceremoniously uprooted and played back in my mind. It was mildly pleasant, in a very warped way. I dreamt about my lost love. What did I do to deserve this? I have moved on with my life and you hit me with this? What kind of sadistic maniac are you? I won’t say I regretted it, in some bittersweet way. But neither would I say I wished it happened.
There was this girl, me, and I was chased by this man in a suit. I escaped from him time and time again, but he still persists, never giving up. I feared being caught and built myself a fortress. This fortress was like a cross between Toys R Us and a scene from SAW. Corpses were strewn all over the floor. Blood was splattered upon the pink wallpaper. The floor was strewn with a jumble of candies, lollipops, beautiful photo frames, syringes, flowers, black boxes and corpses. It filled the room till the door was half covered. I found myself on a contraption that looked like it came from kid sport. The room was half finished and yet the man burst in and demanded audience. And then I cried. I looked like Frankenstein’s bride. Scars covered my face like a white blanket. My eyes were large, round and full of sorrow. Blue. Hair was long and black like those ghosts back for revenge. I wore a white dress which swept the floor. My whole body was covered in scars; from my head to my heel; bruises and wounds from a long time ago. As I cried, black tears like those gaudy women who put too much mascara ran down my face. My tears, were black. They were as black as the velvet blanket covering the sky. They ran down my face leaving little streams of black ink which stained my face the blackest black you have ever seen. Little did I realize that the girl wasn’t me.
I was transported back in time. I am the man with the suit. I was in a scientific facility that looked like it came from some science fiction movie, with those cool wall panels and sliding doors that only serve to remind me of the synthetic nature of myself. We were involved in manufacture. We manufactured dolls. We manufactured dolls which I designed. They were my heart and soul. They were delightful. They looked exactly like the girl from before. I loved them. They had a sad smile on their face which made them look so mysterious. It’s like the dolls have been to heaven, hell and back to live through a second life on earth, knowing how their lives will end. Then suddenly, the manufacturing machine malfunctioned. One of my darling dolls slipped into the machinery and was being ripped apart by the gears. My heart dropped to my stomach. I prayed that it will be all right. I prayed that my darling would be saved from the horrors within. I tried to track its destruction from a monitor in my office which showed my doll with a bright red dot. I clasped and unclasped my hands. Needles of the pistons punctured its flawless skin repeatedly. I uttered a prayer as my doll finally came out and was sent to the reconstruction facility. Screams resounded from within and I panicked. I threw the door open and saw a scientist standing, looking shocked at the doll in the chair. Through some unknown reason, the doll had grown life size and was flawless. No puncture marks could be seen on her skin, no cuts or imperfections. All that was found was soft skin, as smooth as a baby’s. Her hair was a lustrous dark brown. She was wearing a white T-shirt and blue shorts. A little like those athletes you see from the girl schools. She had a gorgeous figure and when she looked at me, I cried. I drew rattling breaths and sobbed my heart out. She smiled at me with that angelic face and said, “I forgive you”. I fell to my knees and cried. That girl was my namesake, the love of my life. If only I could forgive myself.
Flashback, the doll in the Toys R Us cum room of torture. That lovely girl had turned into the abomination I saw right in front of me. I was desperate to change her back to that lovely girl. Rework the magic that made her the lovely girl I knew. My doing had caused her to become like this. It’s as though I was the machine, ripping her apart. Time is a coin you can only spend once. Time waits for no man. Time is our enemy. Although in my heart I knew I could never have her back, I prayed for a miracle. I prayed that she could come back to me just for a moment. I did whatever I could, but the damage was done. She was gone. All that remains is the remains of my destruction. A beautiful doll destroyed by me. Then I woke up, and cried my eyes out. My life forever tainted by this haunting dream. It was neither a dream or a nightmare, it was a reminder of what I was and what I will always be. A destroyer of lives unworthy and incapable of love. May she forgive me and my ugly ugly soul. And now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the lord my soul to keep, if I die before I wake, I pray the lord my soul to take. Please kill me.
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