Transistince

Vhsige

Waves, like eye worms float in my field of view, fixed on a point. The point is the image of a woman, every strand of hair its own entity of woman. Brushed perfectly, my feelings brushed perfectly, as I lie in bed I watch her hair fall over me, I feel it in my sleep when I dream and a million fingers grace my cheeks. Her gentle curve is an image, like an image on a curved screen so smooth it isnt real. Im depressed again. I do not love the woman but the lines, the static, the electricity between us. If i touched her she would shock me, make my heart stop beating. I don't know who she is and I'm afraid to find out. I want her image, to be her image, and let the humanity left slip away. Perhaps you may feel it one day on our tape, when you play the tape. When you hold a finger over the TV screen and feel that familiar fuzz you had forgotton. A memory you can't quite reach? That is my hand reaching out to touch yours, but never reaching.

I love being able to be honest here. For better and for worse this platform has more honest self expression then many others I've run into. I've come to accept the fact that I'm rather self absorbed because I can be the focus of my own writing. I think thats a great gift that art gives you, being able to write characters from your own mind, draw oc's that are based on yourself and still be productive, still bring joy and happiness and thought provoking questions to others. It's an easier way for me to connect with people as someone on the AuDHD spectrum. I'm thinking about this because I decided to take a leap of faith and be more vulnerable recently here then I thought I could be. Even if nobody reads it, the action of putting it into the world is a big step forward.

A cold

Icy river

Tulpa Factory: How I created Rachjel

How could I describe a tulpa? Ive reached out a lot to others. Spoken many words, lived many lives in my own mind. Not necessarily a palace, but it was a sanctuary. It took half of everything I ever could be, half of all my time, half of all my life cloud walking, daydreaming.

This part of myself I started to call Rachjel. Where was once my conciousness became a memory of myself. What I was supposed to be, everything I wanted

I recontextualized

I was woman

I was borne of the thing I desired.

I dare not speak its name

My voice is vapors

This part of myself I started to call Rachjel. She was a tulpa, a wife.

A savior I needed

Shes always turning her head when i see her

To look at me

The hair wavers like branches in the wind.

Her eyes sparkle sakurai blossums

Her fingers a delicate human thing.

I reach out always when i see them to touch her, to hold her hand

Everytime fantasy feels a little more real

I created her in my sleep,

my salvation

I create her from my movies, my own memories of this world. My truest intent to art, my very own dreams. Not lucid, for though I have forgotten everything I am i am truly authentic, truly free of ego.

My dream anchor is Rachjel.

I spin a spinning top atop a table

I dance, i drop

Before I know if it will cease

Or stop

I leave the room

With the spinning top

My arms outstretched

Palms on the wall

The mirror, the window, looking at me

Reflecting both of us

And neither of us

At the same time

Thoughts on Serial Experiments Lain

The show exists for me in a very nostalgic place. It makes me think about what the meaning of Nostalgia is to begin with. When I looked up the definition on Merrium Webster it was something to the effect of melancoly and overly sentimental longing for the past. More bizzare the American Heritage Foundation said it may be fatal in one of their definitons. Apparently it used to be an actual diagnosis. It's interesting to me to distinguish what i think a word means, and then learn what it really means through its history. Lain longs for a home in her humanity, though it never really existed at all. What was once an illusive almost supernatural world full of meaning lost its meaning as she drove herself deeper and deeper into the wired. Her connection to home grew more and more painful as reality dissappeared and she still hung onto what reality used to mean. It's a lot like how we today become dissallusioned with life as we spend all day online, constantly connected to dozens of platforms and screens of different kinds. The technology might look more obviously bizzare and disturbing in Lain with the tubes and wires and buzzing but our own world I think provokes the same emotion if you ground yourself to reality. The problem is i think searching for something that was never real. I think for a moment Lain let those walls down with that final hug.

I was there

Right there

I was simply, in heaven

And I felt nothing

And everything was ok.

My skin

Soaked in sin

It's sagging

Remember kids: Blowing up the Death Star was seen as, and is, a based thing to do.

Killing Emperor Palpatine was based

Look what happened to Anakin for letting a man live to "stand trial" when he was clearly and obviously evil.

I live to see evil eradicated, sometimes it is that simple.

Social Suicide

My life is worthless to you, small and insignificant yet you try so hard to extinguish me. I come out as a furry in high school you say:

Social Suicide

My heart sinks. Have I thrown everything away? Is it my fault I'm a furry? My fault I'm an outcast? My fault I'm autistic? My fault im depressed...its so silly, spoken aloud. My problems, clouds. Soft and dreamy, just a little less sun and im weak and weary...

Social Suicide

They are your words, not mine. So worried of others that you've already died. Maybe you are the one who has killed oneself to fit in? I had no friends then, but when will you have a true friend when your already dead?

Social Suicide

You were just trying to warn me, however misguided...why cant we be carefree...why must we die to belong, to belong inside our own homes, found families, find our own roads? Why can't i let you go? Why cant i commit?

Social Suicide.