(...one must face their own past and prove their own existence...)
Cause & Effect (Part 1 of 2)
At times one gets the chance to face a part of their past head on and decide one of three things. You choose to run as fast you can and put some distance between the two of "you". Another option is let the past infect your entire life and most likely destroy the one thing that makes you the person you really are in a sense. Lastly, one can choose to face their past without fear and be prepared to defend one's life till the very end. I suppose that is another thing about Human Nature. We often at times do anything to survive and rarely give up on survival. Then at times you must give up to in order to fight another day. Another day. Another night. Another week. Another month. Another year. Goddamn it.
Being a teenager is never easy. You go through life wanting to belong. You go through life trying to prove your worth to others. You go through life following the same routine at times. Different emotions start to dwell deep from within. At times we rise to become leaders and other times we are followers. Some fade into the background while others are now deemed outcasts. Then, rarely, there are those whom become an animal. What else can one do, right? Quite often it depends on our surroundings. Our surroundings. Our families. Our friends. And even our enemies.
It was lunch time at the orphanage. The atmosphere was laid back and yet tense for most there. You were either the hunter, the hunted, or merely there to provide scenery for one of the two. I hated that lunch line with a passion growing up. Things changed. The old staff eventually was replaced by the guards. I suppose it saved the orphanage money by having the guards doing both patrol and cooking for us "kids". Waiting on line was dull and almost slave like in a sense. I mean we did the cleaning and some of us had to do food preparation in the back with some of the guards. I felt sorry for those who did too. I knew. I knew all too well. Every time I would see a guard I would feel my butt cheeks clench and my stomach start to turn...but it never stopped anyone from wanting to eat. We all knew we needed food to survive this place. Food and the ability to adapt to any situation. Just great. Another shit lunch. Shredded Turkey and chopped up carrots. The sound of the ladle lifting up that slop made a sucking sound and then a quick splatting sound when hitting the tarnished metal trays they had provided us with. As always the meal was barely warm and the trays were ice cold even in the summer. Made me wonder at times, but I never dwelled on it too long. Other things to worry about. Always. Other things.
I grabbed the tray from the guard’s hands and avoided eye contact. I always sat in the far back of the cafeteria by the window. Windows were hard to come by in the cafeteria. You have to understand. Most of us are tired of looking at one another and windows were like television sets. You rather watch what is on the "TV" rather than these people. No one ever sat next to me and that is the way I liked it to be quite honest. Who the hell needed friends? Some ratted on you. Some wanted special favors from you. Others wanted you to be in a "gang" that was simply meant to put the fear in newcomers. The newcomers had a nickname in the orphanage too. We use to call them "Virgins". There was a reason as always for everything. There was four ways of getting rid of that name though. Wait till someone gets you in your sleep or in the bathroom. Wait till the guards singled you out for "special treatment". There was always the gang of kids who were looking to leave their marks on "Virgins" by attacking them on the recess court. Made everyone else take notice to who was "in charge" though we all knew it was the guards overall, but it must've gave them a sense of status. Better to be ranked second place than a nobody like all of us. The last thing you could do is fight your way to the top. Take out the meanest and baddest kid in the orphanage. Show the guards and everyone else that you weren't anyone's bitch in a sense. We don't get to choose though. Sometimes the options are thrown upon us. Sometimes more than one option too. Unfortunately, I was a casualty of the first three and never got my chance at four. At least not yet. I managed to eat my food and ignore the slimy substance sliding down my throat. Just like pretended at other times when it came to the guards. You just have to adapt.
(...one must face their own past and prove their own existence...)
Cause & Effect (Part 2 of 2)
Besides, I didn’t have time to think about the food all too much since that gang of kids were moving from table to table looking for an ease “score” in a sense. I always called them “The Sinners” back then. I guess it was because of the shit they had done to me and others. It could have been because of the pen tattoos they gave each other of the devil and the number “666”. I suppose life here will do that to you. It makes you insane at times. Seems like they found their Virgin though. Northeast from where I was sitting and about a good ten feet away. Same prick leader too. Troy. The same kid who welcomed me into the orphanage when I was a Virgin. Looking at him would remind me of the bathroom stalls and leave my mouth dry. He stopped messing with me when I turned sixteen though. I guess he lost interest in older kids. Now he was gonna introduce some unlucky Asian kid to the orphanage. Sometimes it was a beat down. Sometimes it was the bathroom. The bathroom was the worst. There you no longer are a Virgin more or less. None of my business though. I paid my dues. Everyone paid their dues. He would have to learn that life is cruel and unfair. That you need to watch your own ass in here. He...he...he is innocent. Do something. C’mon! Do something. Change it. Change it now! You can do it. What can they do to you that they have not done to you!? I can’t. I need to survive. I need to survive this Hell I am living in. Just stop it. Then survive. Fight and survive. Let it all go. Prove your existence. Fine. I’ll prove it. I am alive. I am still alive. Then it happened. I don’t know how or even fully why for that matter, but there Troy was standing. His face dripping wet with shredded turkey and dripping nevertheless onto his clothes. Before he could even react I ran across the cafeteria and leapt onto him like a Cheetah to a Zebra. My fists were raining down upon his face and curse words were flowing out of my mouth with such ease. My fists were covered in turkey that I had scooped up and thrown at him while mixing in with blood that was coming from his nose. He eventually managed to get his arms up to block my fists, but I didn’t care. I needed to let him know. I needed him to know. To know that it was over. No more. No more of his bullshit. No more Virgins. No more Sinners. No more.
A fast thought entered my mind though. Why weren’t his friends attacking me? Why weren’t they getting me off of him at least? Little did I know that the answer would come in the form of a baton to the back of the head. My face smashed into the wall and slid down to the floor as I remained on my stomach. Everything became blurry. I could barely hear anything except echoes as if I was underwater at some convention. Guards must’ve taken Troy away and another guard picked me up and hoisted me over his shoulder. I could see a blurry vision of everyone there. Most just stood up in silence and stared at me. I always wondered what had happened to that kid I saved in a sense. I wonder if he was smiling or at least feeling safer. Didn’t matter though. I was on my way to receive aid and then my punishment. Little did I know that I was getting neither.
He took me into an empty room that belonged to one of the teenagers and slammed me on the bed. My head was shooting with pain and my body was limp. My eyes kept moving in circles and made the room spin. I heard a belt buckle being undone. The metal brushing up against one another as he slipped it out of the belt loop. Then he closed the door slowly and looked at me. I never did understand what he had said. My hearing was all messed up from the hit to the head by the baton. He smiled and started to beat me all over with the belt. I screamed in pain. That’s right. Screamed. Not yelled. This was pain. Uncensored and unimaginable pain. Each hit would make me scream louder than the first time. The belt slapped against my back several times. My arms took the most punishment as I tried to block. Twice I was hit in the face thinking he was done, but he only waited for an opportunity for me to lower my arms. Eventually, I just collapsed to the ground and felt each stroke come crashing down until my back became numb to the pain. All I could do was stare at the white tiles on the ground and his shoes. It felt as if he beat me forever, but forever was too good for me. He stopped and that is when I heard the most horrifying noise in the world. I heard his zipper.
Life is often hard at times. We make decisions and forget that everything has a cause as well as an effect to it in a sense. Maybe I should have minded my own business. Maybe I should have stayed in my seat and ate that slop. Maybe, but then I would be no better than Troy. I would be no better than his friends. I would be no better than the guards. I would be no better than the guard who zipped up his pants and ordered me to pull up my pants so I could be escorted to the nurse’s quarters. Why didn’t I tell? Why didn’t I just tell someone? I did. Nothing ever happened except that the punishment from the guards got worse each time any of us ever told someone. No one believed us either. We were orphan kids. Bastards. Losers. Troublemakers. We were not important enough to anyone. I wasn’t though. Not me. No. I did it. I proved it to myself. My existence is real. I was alive. I was not like these kids. I was alive. I am still alive.
(...reality is an illusion that is best served with a "dream"...)
DREAMING ABOUT A NIGHTMARE
Time often is wasted on the nothingness of our own boredom. I wonder what that is like though. My life never seems to have time for me to be truly bored. My life is filled and yet a hole remains deep within that is a void in which is never filled. It devours the life force of others that get too close to me. So I have to protect others. I have to remain Anonymous. I have to keep to myself. My life can kill people. Truly kill people. It took the life of the girl I loved and still do till this very day. I should have been more careful. I should have been more understanding. It should have been me.
I “woke up” in that grassy field again. I could see grass just blowing gently in the breeze as I laid there on my stomach. I could feel the cool air through my clothes and blowing my hair slightly back. As I got up I looked around for that boy. I was worried about him. It had been so long since we had talked to one another. Something was different. The sky was grey as if a storm was coming. I could tell because you start to smell this odd scent from the grass when a storm is closing in on you. Something was wrong. The house wasn’t there. No trees could be seen either. What the hell was going on!? This can’t be happening. I never once had this place in my dreams compromised by a nightmare. Never. I looked around and could see nothing in the distance except a grassy field like the one I was standing in the middle of so to speak. For some reason I looked down and saw a gun. A jet black gun. For some reason it was jet black as if someone or something wanted me to notice it. I slowly knelt down and stared at the gun that was lying all alone by my feet. Should I pick it up? No. No. Don’t do it. If I do then something bad is going to happen. It has to be a setup. A loud roar filled the air all of a sudden and as if by instinct I scooped the gun up. Silence once again. That noise wasn’t that far either. Damn it. What is going on? Where are you, Kenshi? I knew it wasn’t his real name, but we used that name as a sort of secret. I never liked prying into that little kid’s life all that much. So I named him after a good friend of mine that had passed away. Kenshi, where the hell are you? C’mon, kid. That is when I heard a little boy screaming and it was coming towards me. Kenshi bursted through the tall grass and slammed into my legs. He wrapped his arms around them and started to cry. I quick knelt down and hugged him. The gun. I quickly slid it behind the back of my pants. I hugged him and felt his tears slide down my face. I pulled him back so I could look at him and make sure he was alright. Not a scratch, but his clothes were torn in some areas.
Kenshi: Xeno! Please, Xeno! We have to go! Now! Please!
Me: Hang on, Kenshi! What is wrong? Tell me what is going on here?
Kenshi: N-No. I can’t tell you that, Xeno. You’ll be mad at me. Can we just leave?
Me: I need to know what is going on. Please tell me. I can help better if I know what is going on around
here.
Kenshi: The Monsters are here. They came from the fog while I was waiting for you.
Me: Monsters? What monsters, Kenshi? What monsters came here?
Kenshi: They were these scary masks like the one you use to wear here. They aren’t nice though. They
started coming towards me chanting numbers. So I ran. We have to go, Xeno!
Me: Alright! We will, Kenshi! Just tell me the numbers they were chanting. Please. Try to remember the
numbers.
Kenshi: I’m scared. Please, Xeno.
Me: Remember! What numbers!?
Kenshi: 333!!! 333!!! 333!!!
Me: Heaven help us…
I grabbed Kenshi’s hand and we both ran as fast as we could through the fields. I had no idea where we were going since nothing seem to exist for miles and miles around us, but I had a strange feeling that this place had an ending to it in a sense. I kept looking behind us and saw nothing. Not a damn thing. My mind was racing with random thoughts. Violence. Hacking. Numbers. Kenshi’s safety. My survival. The gun. The house that was gone. I looked back one more time and my eyes nearly popped out of my head. Several Anons were chasing us and were running at nearly top speed. I yelled to Kenshi to run faster and he nearly tripped up since my outburst seemed to startle him. So picked him up and threw him over my shoulder as if he was nothing at all, but he was something. He was a big something. The most important thing to me in a sense. He cried out that they were getting closer. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to out run them for what seemed to be like forever. The gun. That’s right. The gun. I still had it. I managed to pull it out from the back of my pants and shot wildly behind me. No slick moves. No clean shots. No skill. Just random shots that took my prayers along with them to nail one of these Anons in the head or at least slow them down. I managed to hit two of them, but the rest were still on us. Better than nothing I suppose. I heard the smacking of metal as the gun ran out of bullets. I never tossed the gun away and just ran with it in hand as Kenshi continued to cry, scream, and cover his ears. The house. It’s up ahead! Thank you, God! We were almost there too, but so were the Anons. Kenshi screamed out that one was trying to grab him. They are way too close. I knew it then. I knew it right then and there as I was running. We often make choices in life that determine the type of person we are in life. Not entirely, but for that day in a sense. For that day in time we make choices that determine whether we are decent or pure savages overall. So I made a decision. I knew we both couldn’t make it. Forgive me, Kenshi. Please. Forgive me. I love you, kid. I was near the front steps of the deck and knew they were ready to pounce on us as soon as we had even reached the first step. I sent Kenshi flying in the air as I tossed him off my shoulder onto the deck. I turned around and speared the first Anon I could see onto the ground. I yelled for Kenshi to get in the house and he quickly go into the house while slamming the door shut. He hesitated though. I don’t blame him. The others didn’t even step foot on the deck nor the steps to the house. It seemed to be off limits to them in a sense. I kept slamming my fists into the Anon I had speared. I soon gained control of myself from the savagery and slowly rose to my feet. It looked like at least twenty to thirty Anons had created a circle around me. I kept turning and turning. All I could see was Anons. The masks and all black tight jumpsuits. Then I finally saw the window to the house. The upstairs window which was far to the right of the master bedroom. Kenshi. I’m sorry I couldn’t be inside that house with you. I’m sorry, but your safe now. You’ll always be safe. I finally saved you, kid. I saved you from them. No. I'm not a hero. I'm not your savior. Just someone who cared about doing what was right. For once. I did something...right. I stood there in the circle nervous as a school boy on his first date with a girl, but the feeling was not of joy. No. More fear than joy, but more relief that the boy was finally safe from them. Without warning they all swarmed me and began to beat me while chanting “333-333-333”. Some stomped on me. Some pounded on me with their fists. Others would claw at my face. The rest stood there and watched as Kenshi most likely watched from the window crying. I could hear banging on a window faintly. The pain was so intense that I passed out. Everything went black and then light slowly pierced into my vision. It was morning. The alarm clock was going off and my dog was lying at the foot of the bed as usual. Another day. I survived. I survived and so did Kenshi. Rest easy, kid. They aren’t going to stop. I know. I know all too well. I grabbed a piece of hard plastic off the nightstand and stared at it. No emotion. No regret. No remorse. I took it and slid it over my face and gazed off into the mirror above my bed. I know all too well, Kenshi. Anonymous is a legion. Anonymous does not forgive. Anonymous does not forget. Expect them, Kenshi. Just as I did long ago.
(...the past lives in the present so long as your mind lives in the past...)
Fading In & Fading Out
I love cooking. It helps me do something active in a sense when I have nothing to do at times. Which is a lot I suppose. I mostly cook for myself or people down at The Home where I volunteer at for the most part. It is not my assigned job there, but I cook for them simply to see them smile when they are tasting something new for the first time or something they have not tasted in years. Though I also hate cooking too. Not because it is hard or takes long at times. I just hate the torment that comes with it. I hear voices from the past calling out to me. Mostly the voice of "her". I try to ignore the voice. I try to ignore it all, but it is very difficult.
Her: Hello, Xeno.
Me: I know it isn't really you.
Her: Look at me then. Do I look like her? Do I not sound like her? Do I not feel like her too?
Me: I am not going to bother looking. I know this is all in my head.
Her: Then why not take the pills the therapist gave you?
Me: You know why already.
Her: Because you miss me?
Me: Because they make me sick, babe!
Her: Babe? See? Was it that hard? Calm down, Xeno.
Me: I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry.
Her: C'mere. It is alright.
I always go to turn around and reach out to her, but nothing is ever there. I just fall to my knees and cry uncontrollably because I know and knew she was never there. It's not easy dealing with that reality at times. Pills do not stop it. Talking does not stop it. Nothing stops it. Though I suppose most would move on and try to put the past behind them. I cannot. I know. I know. I am pitful. I belong locked up in a medical institution. Perhaps, but what is wrong with still being in love with someone who noticed you when no other would? At least not for the right reasons. It is just as my mentor once said long ago. You are not insane nor are you merely an individual whom lives life as is at times. You simply exist to exist. My mentor never did tell me what I was fully though, but others have at times. A bastard. A orphan reject. A loser. An asshole. Even a worthless piece of shit. Maybe I am one of those. I do not know, but I do know I that I never seem to let it stop me from helping others whom cross paths with my own life at times. I am simply Anonymous. It is never easy taking those pills either. I fell like I am watching them die all over again in a sense. The pills get rid of the their voices. I hate myself everyday and night for taking them. So I collect myself and my thoughts only to rise to my feet in order to finish dinner. An hour and a half pass and I set the table as always. Snow Globe in the center of the table which is on top of a white table cloth. One black placemat. One plastic fork. One plastic spoon. Silver seems to make the food taste differently at times for me. So I stick with plastic. Then I set my plate on the placemat and sit down to eat. Alone. Alone, but that is never the case. Never.
Her: Watcha eating, hun?
Me: (eating and ignoring)
Her: Oh, C'mon. I'm sorry about leaving so sudden. Forgive me?
Me: (staring down and eating my food)
Her: Remember that time I made soup and put too much hot sauce in it? You downed a whole gallon of
water. (laughing)
Me: (smiling and eating)
Her: Yeah you do! You were amazing though. You still ate it so I wouldn't feel bad. You still are amazing,
Xeno.
Me: (fighting back the tears and eating)
Her: Hey! I brought someone to cheer you up! C'mere. C'mon.
Me: (looking up and wanting to die from crying)
Her: Say Hi to daddy! Say Hi! Say Daddy! Say...(voice and image fade away)
Me: WAIT!!!
I remember that night I had slammed my fists on the table and threw my plate at the wall. I flipped over the table and threw the chair at my bedroom door. I yelled. I screamed. I eventually fell to my knees and hands crying like I had cried so long ago when I had found out what happened to them in the car accident. I remeber that night all too well. I spent several days on the floor in the living room just crying and apparently in shock from what my therapist had told me. She had came over for our appointment and found me there just crying on the floor. Curled up into a ball once again. I spent two months in the institution after that. How can I move on? I have nothing to offer. This shell of a body is merely filled with regret, anger, and sorrow. There is nothing inside that anyone would want. Except advice. Advice that was given to me by life itself once I had paid the price that could not be refunded whatsoever. The price was my entire world. My lovely fiance and future son. I now spend each day of my life trying to be as active as possible. I have to stay up. I cannot go to sleep. I cannot slow down. If I do. If I do for one second. I might just lose my mind and this time I might not even comeback to reality. So just in case that happens. Just in case I am too weak or break under the pressure. I love you two. I love you with all my heart. The three of us shall be together again. There must be a way. I have to believe. I have no choice. No choice.
(…the sad thing about life is that you can die more than once…)
The Night “I” Died
I have to be honest with everyone that is reading. Probably to whomever is reading. There is more than once persona inside us all. We often do not notice it because it sleeps deep within ourselves. It only seems to wake up at times when things go wrong or when thing happens to effect us emotionally. It is because of who I am now that I find myself acting bizarre, weird, and almost unhuman at times. I suppose that is what happens when a big part of you dies. You change. Your mind adapts to what it has left and works with whatever traits are left in the body. At times it even develops new traits in order to make up for the ones you had lost long ago.
I use to love football. I use to love eating McDonalds after school. I use to love going to parties. I use to love the fact that I was going to be a husband and a father. Now…it was all a dream in a sense. Even a nightmare at times. I love to grow roses and turn them blue. I love cooking. I love to take photographs of random things in order to keep that moment alive. I also love writing and playing the piano whenever I have to time to do so. Nowadays I have expanded on my new life. I volunteer as a “Big Brother” to some kids down at the park and volunteer at a “Home” for the elderly. Most wonder what I do exactly to make ends meet since all I seem to do is volunteer. I get by as always. I basically do odd jobs while attend college. Life has changed so much since that night. No more friends. No more parties. No more sports. It is alright though. I enjoy what I do nowadays. It makes me apprecitate life even more than before to be quite honest. Though the pain is still there deep within my heart. I can still see visions of myself when I was with “her”. The tears roll down my face quickly and does not break in the stream whatsoever. My face remains emotionless as always.
I know “he” is dead. Whomever “he” or I was then is dead. I try to think positively for the most part. Perhaps “he” is with “her” in the after life along with “their” son as well. I doubt it though. Life is not that generous these days. Life is life. Cruel, loving, emotionless, and genuinely random at times. I remember bits and pieces of the accident. Even with my seatbelt on I seemed to be hurled through the front window of my car and sent several feet away. I remember screaming. I remember the cold blood covering my crimson face. I remember the glass underneathe my hands feeling like sharp pebbles. It sounds like a lot, but it is not. At times I get flashbacks of trying to pull the passenger’s door open. The rain coming down hard. The pain circulating throughout my whole body. That is though. Never a full memory of what actually happened after the car had crashed. I had a nightmare once about seeing myself dead inside the car with “her” right next to me. I suppose I that is what alerted me to the reality of it all. Whomever I was then died in that accident. It is hard to accept at times because I want to be free from this existence completely. Being an Anon is difficult.
People judge you all the time. Some love you and some hate you. Some want you brought to justice and others consider you an internet “savior”. When all you really want is to be loved in a sense. You want to be “normal”. To spend one birthday with people who love you. To spend the Fourth of July with friends. To spend Thanksgiving with a family that loves you. To wake up Christmas Morning and not be alone. Why remain Anonymous? Why not just join others in being “real” in a sense? I cannot because what is beneathe this mask is a broken reflection of someone I use to be long ago. I wish I had a home to go to in this existence. I often hope to wake up in a home that is filled with a family of my own. Mom. Dad. Sister. Brother. At times it is opposite. I want to see my fiance and my son. I want to be able to wake up and realize that they are not dead. It was all a bad dream.
I remember “her” face at the hospital. She looked as if she was sleeping. Just sleeping. If I yelled loud enough she would wake up and everything would be alright again. If I just yelled loud enough. I “died” later that night in the hospital. Whomever walked through those doors and left back to the apartment was not “me” in a sense. It was a shell of what was once me and soon it was filled with an Anon Persona. So I guess it does not matter if I remove my mask or not. I am still an Anon. I will never be “him” again. Rest well, friend. Know that I have not forgotten you or our loved ones. In the end, you died being loved by someone whom is the world to us both. You died a free man as well. So rest well, friend. Rest well.
(…one can acquire a sense of peace only after descending into the darkness…)
Session # 7
I can never seem to get over it. Every therapist seems to have a library in their office. Most the furniture is dark oak wood and seems freshly polished every time I enter the room in a sense. I like the chair though. The arms of the chair are smooth and the back red padding is leather. Soft and very comfortable. Of course that is the way they want it, right? For you to feel comfortable. Almost safe. Safe enough to talk about anything and everything that comes to mind. I do not let the false sense of security overwhelm me though. That is an Anon instinct I suppose. Most think Anons just deal with computers and have computer skills. It goes beyond that to be quite honest. Of course few would know though. Most are too busy passing judgment on us to even see that we are something more than a user screen name or an internet persona. Most of us are just “different” I suppose. Everything we do in the “offline” world is specific in nature. My nature is simply to listen. It is a rare trait that is used in this day and age. One thinks they can hear what people are saying, but often do not because one’s nature at times is to respond to the first few sentence uttered out by another. One must simply listen until silence takes over the conversation. It gives you a good read on a person when you just take the time to listen to them. I suppose that is what my therapist is trying to do as well. Read me. Find out why I choose to live an Anon Lifestyle and if I am moving on in my life. She almost seems determined at times to know why I am the way I am nowadays. The answer is clear, but pieces are missing. It’s a bit like a video. You saw the trailer, but you wanna see the whole movie for yourself. You wanna know the beginning and end. Is there ever an end though?
Therapist: How was your day today?
Me: Fine.
Therapist: Anything specific happen as of late? Fun? Interesting?
Me: I planted a Blue Rose in the park once again.
Therapist: For anyone in particular?
Me: Of course.
Therapist: Would you like to talk about who you planted the rose for?
Me: No.
Therapist: What would you like to talk about?
Me: Nothing.
Therapist: It is always good to talk, Xeno. I have read over some of your files from the orphanage. Would you like to talk about anything
that happened there?
Me: I am sure you already know what happened there. Does it matter?
Therapist: Of course it does, Xeno. That is why I am here. I want to help you.
Me: Can you bring “her” back?
Therapist: No, but talking about “her” might make you feel a bit better. What are some of the good things you remember about “her”?
Me: Are you married?
Therapist: No.
Me: Anyone special in your life?
Therapist: Not at this time.
Me: When is the last time you had sex?
Therapist: I do not think that is an appropriate question, Xeno.
Me: Neither was yours. Just because you knew me ever since the accident years back does not mean you really know me now.
Therapist: I am trying to know you, Xeno. You just do not seem to want anyone to know you overall. Why is that?
Me: Time’s up.
Therapist: We have plenty of time.
Me: Tell that to the ones I lost.
So I simply got up that day and walked out of her office as I have done time and time again. I suppose from a therapist’s point of view there is no progress being made; however, she does not seem to give up on me like most would have by now. Still makes appointments. Still makes house calls. Still insists that I am hiding something from the world. Something deep within. Wanna know something? She’s right. There is something deep down within myself that I am hiding. Something I never told anyone. Not even the girl I had once loved and still do till this day. Maybe things would have been different if I had told her about it. Maybe I could have been free in a sense. Maybe I would have never “joined” Anonymous to begin with. Maybe. I still remember that secret. I still remember it and it, at times, makes me go insane. I find myself destroying things in my apartment. Often glasses, chairs, and even my own hand. I have mixed feelings about it though. At times I know it wasn’t my fault, but then I did have a choice in some people’s eyes. I always have a choice. I guess I just never saw a choice when I was trying to survive. The streets in the city are cold at night. A nice cool breeze would be fun to enjoy on a hot summer day, but not on a fall night. Different teenagers standing on the edge of the sidewalks looking both ways for cars. Cars. Heh, that’s a joke. Light blue jean jacket and pants to match. Black sneakers. Not even a popular fake name brand either. Just ones that were donated to the orphanage at the time. No shirt on. Made things easier back then. We never had a choice. We needed to survive. What would you do to survive? Probably something different, but when you are an orphan in the city…there isn’t much to do other than drugs and drugs kill faster than what we were doing. Besides, it was already being done to us inside the orphanage against our will. I suppose this was against our will subconsciously, but the money made you forget. Made you numb to what was going on. You sit there and stare through a glass windshield. A tear rolls down your face as you sit back with your arms over the backseat. Your teeth clench down as your sitting there knowing that this is all wrong and yet wrong is what let’s your survive yet another day. Then it happens. A release that is more painful and depressing than anything in the world. The shame washes over you as you zip up your pants and head emerges from between your legs only to greet you with fifty bucks. She could be your mom. He could be your dad. They could be your parents. Always someone new. Always a new couple. Depends on how far you are willing to push the envelope I guess. How far are you willing to go to survive? Most might not even go that far and say that they rather die than do what we did. Then again…you were not us. We were orphans. We were slaves. We were survivors looking for a way out of the city. We were once innocent…
Sometime I wonder about my life. I think about how it was then. How it is now. How it will be in the future. There is one thing that I am most certainly grateful for though. The friends I have made on my travels as well as online. I know I live a life that secludes me from ever being like the average sociable individual, but I still do appreciate the concern that comes from the people that have entered into my life in a sense. I use to cry every time a holiday or birthday passed me on by because I wanted a mother. A father. A brother. A sister. I could have even settled with the idea of having a family of my own. Just was not meant to be for me. At least that is what I had thought. I still do in a sense, but nowadays I see that I am not that alone in the world. I have people who consider me apart of their lives. Apart of their world. Who show me that I am wanted. I use to think Anonymous was my only “family”, but as time flew by I realized I was wrong. I know it sounds a bit odd and even strange, however, I think of oTz as a “home” that I can go to and be apart of something that is truly wonderful at times. I keep the realization that whenever it is my time to leave this world it shall be in silence. No one shall know. No one shall care. No one shall even be there. Which is quite alright. I was never one for wanting to make people cry especially over me. I can promise one thing though. When I do pass one from this life I shall be waiting for the oTz Members at the front gates (hopefully) and without a mask.
I have so many people to thank and yet I find myself speechless when trying to thank them properly. It gets to me which is something that I have a conflict with overall. I often do not like that some people care about me. Sometimes I feel an invisible pressure not to disappoint them. I have received quite a bit of messages here and there wishing me luck with my knee surgery. It really hit home for me. Hard to explain to nurses why my eyes are leaking at times. I just tell them that my “family” is wishing me well. I know I am welcomed at several places these days. That just makes me feel warm inside. I guess the reason I have not taken up anyone’s offer yet is that I have this undying mindset that does not want my life to cross paths with anyone simply because I tend to be “bad luck” in reality. Everyone I have ever had in my personal life has either died or left to parts unknown. I haven’t had much people in my life though. I sometimes like it that way. Then it doesn’t hurt so much in a sense.
I wish “she” was here to be honest. I keept staring at my necklace with “her” ring on it. I wonder if she is proud of what I had done. I hope so. I glance at my key chain at times. That is the hardest to stare at overall. I keep this little Winnie The Pooh Bear on it. I was hoping to hang this thing above the crib back then when things were still normal. Things just changed though. Sometimes I like to think that he is with me as well. That he is holding my hand as I get ready for surgery soon. I know its not a critical surgery I am having done, but I guess it still scares me a bit. Being put to sleep that is. Maybe if I keep their image in my head it’ll be fine. Just keep their images in my head and remember the people that care about me.
(...sanity is only in the mind of the beholder...)
Anonymous: Discovering Reality
There is a reality out there that exists passed all the media, politics, conflicts, and skepticism. A reality that is the true fear of this entire planet. One must realize that this world wears a mask much like some in this world. Though this mask was created in order to keep that fear hidden from the rest of society. Why lies beneath this man-made mask? A mirror so to speak. Within this mirror is a reflection of what this world is in a sense. An entire planet being controlled by ignorant human beings too afraid to admit to their own cruel crimes against humanity. So long as the media, politics, conflicts, and skepticism exists...we shall never truly see the "problem" with our world. We shall only see what "they" want us to see. We shall only hear what "they" want us to hear. What can one do? Simple. Start invoking your rights and defend them with your heart. We may not be the ones governing this world, but without us...what can "they" govern? Remember, the true "power" lies within each of us. Divided we are individuals with a dream. Together we are a legion with a new reality for this world. Perhaps my words are that of a mad man, but then again it was mad to think the world was round at one time.
(...we are mere individuals whom should be united as one...)
Purpose
My name is Xeno Mutou. Though it is not my real name it is so happens to be the name by which people refer to me by both in reality and online. As an Anon it is hard to lead a normal life. Often at times there are these invisible rules by one must live by in a sense. Other times people are too afraid of you because an Anon is apart of Anonymous and Anonymous is known to be very dangerous individuals. I, for one, agree with those whom fear us. We can be dangerous, however, many of us wish only to help this world. We do not seek fame. We do not seek fortune. We do not seek attention from the media. We only seek peace in the hearts of those whom do not have peace in their lives. Though our cause is often looked upon as "impossible", a "smoke-screen", and even "ridiculous" we continue to try to make a difference in this world. I am very proud of certain individuals that have spoken out in a sense these past few weeks. It showed me something that I had been seeking for awhile now and it proved to me that change is possible. Without Anon intervention some have risen up to defend themselves as well as others. Some have even had the courage to speak out against certain issues that are controversial at times. In all honesty it brought tears to my eyes. I now know that change is possible and that soon this world shall no longer need Anons. Slowly, but surely this world is becoming more self-aware of what is going on around them. I just hope that once everyone's eyes are open that most can start making a difference all over the world. I once had a dream long ago. I wanted to make the world smile just once. Just once. I knew it was impossible. I knew that it might not happen. I knew that others thought I was blinded by a dream that was merely a dream. But that was the thing about being me. I did not care. The impossible is possible. It may not happen for centuries upon centuries, but I truly believe it shall one day. We are often told that some things in life are impossible and these great men/women rise up to do the impossible thus proving that anything is possible if we believe in it. If we keep trying in a sense. I do not know what is up ahead on this path I have taken in life, but I would rather die knowing that I was trying to make a difference then die knowing that I left people around me suffer because I was too concerned with myself to give up any precious time to another. It is true that one day those whom remember the name Xeno Mutou shall ridicule me for my thoughts, ideas, and dreams. It is true that few shall even truly remember who I was to be quite honest. It matters not though. All that matters is that another shall take my place eventually. Someone whom is not afraid to do what is right. Someone whom is not willing to sacrifice the many in order to save himself/herself from danger. That is Anonymous. Where one falls another ten shall rise. I hope that one day I could remove this mask that I wear daily. Of course I could remove it anytime I wanted to, but not now. Not when there is so much to be done. I hope that the day I remove this mask I can see a world that has changed even in the slightest for the good. Most of us do not truly know one another. Some of us do in some sense. Yet we all seem to care about one another for the most part. Where one is hurt...others shall try and comfort that person. I hope one day people can do that with people from all over the world. Sometimes change starts in a place you least expect it. I hope the hearts of those here can change because from what I have seen all of you seem genuinely kind and caring. Perhaps you can open your hearts to the rest of the world in time.
P.S.
Those whom I am proud of...you know who you are overall. I shall never forget the kindness you have all shown me. Though I am an Anon. You saw me as a friend and as person first. For once I have felt normal and I can no repay the joy that has brought me. Perhaps in another lifetime. Perhaps.
To whomever it may concern. I have decided to take any early hiatus from oTz due to my injury that I occurred a couple of weeks ago. My time is going to be invested in trying to walk once more. I do hope to return sometime in the future. I love the forum, the users here, and the overall threads. Whether you have respected me, hated me, loved me, or even ignored me I shall miss you. It was a true experience even for an Anon such as myself. I have learned many things here in how people think, act, and overall feel. I do hope my presence here was not damaging to anyone whatsoever. All and all it has been quite interesting. I appreciate those whom befriended me for who I was and not because I went along with whatever was popular on the forums. I appreciate those whom agreed with my aspects of life as well as those who disagreed with my views on the world. It always good to have people who think differently than me as friends or even mere acquaintances. I hope that I have not disrespected anyone here as well. If I have then I would like to apologize just in case. Lastly, I would like to thank those whom welcomed me into their hearts. It means more to me than most shall ever know. Till we all meet once more in the future. Stay well and rest well.
