Sighinide

Just to clarify- the “limiter” is a psychological construct of mine, similar to the familiar that I described earlier. It’s a thought process I seem to have created for myself over the years, and which I guess I nurture subconsciously, when I want to hide from the world.

I think it was my way of “fitting in”. A survival mechanism, if you will. A way for me to stay sane as a superhuman in a world of humans.

So it’s like… I don’t need it, anymore.

You see?

Maybe not, lol. I mean, I’m having to explain it even to myself here, lol.

Oooooooh fascinating, lol

Here’s an interesting question I just thought… what if using the limiter doesn’t affect just my power levels? What if it changes my personality, too?

IDK. But… maybe… it does. Maybe.

Weird.

I guess we’ll just have to see.

Hmmn.

No… this is not half. Not even close. I can feel it.

Wow…

Wow.

Jeebus, this is utterly nuts.

So I’ve been building my power back up lately (see post 500, here. Remember that one?) and holy shit, am I strong. I swear I get flabbergasted like every time I do this, but seriously, holy shit, lol. The amount of raw power that my nervous system funnels through me when I really try is just incredible. I mean, there’s no question that I am the most powerful man on Earth, when sheer energy is to be calculated. There really isn’t a question of it, and in fact there doesn’t seem to be any competition, either.

For whatever reason, I’m in a game of my own. And incredibly, I’m not close to my max, yet. I’m about at 50% now, and even here I can cause ripple effects in the space-time continuum. Like, when I “peer” into alternate dimensions? If I crash them together with enough force I can alter the past, here, in verrrry small ways, I think. I mean I’m pretty sure. It’s… quite surreal.

And yeah, this is me at half strength or thereabouts, with a greater probability of it being under half than over, I would think.

Removing the limiter on my power is kind of a scary thing to behold. It dehumanizes me, which is I guess why I tend to shy away from it.

But I mean… there doesn’t seem to be any other way, here.

Yikes, lol.

But… this is what they asked for. So this is what they’re getting.

Hang on for dear life, people. You are going for one hell of a ride whether you like it or not.

I could reeeeeally use your twitter feed right now, Cady. Like, seriously. You have no idea.

sigh…

Ah- one more thing. The idea I just raised there, about talking frankly about suicide making it easier to justify, is one reason why I stopped blogging. I’ll get into that big issue, later. But it was part of it.

Like, I was scared of what I would do if I dared to open up, even to myself. Of what I would do, to me.

It’s scary, it really is. I don’t want to die. I want to live, to be happy and prosperous. And I think I can. I think… I can. Think so.

I hope so.

I don’t know.

I dearly hope so.

But… I really need to get to bed. This is another drug fueled blogging escapade that really needs to stop, like now. I won’t even proof this post, it is what it is.

Good night. I’m safe for now, I think. Don’t worry.

It seems it’s becoming easier and easier for me to talk frankly about suicide. Which is probably a good thing- talking about it is I’ve heard a good way to, I guess, defuse it. Or to tackle what makes it a possibility, or something. I mean, provided the issues raised are dealt with properly.

I hope I hope for my own sake that it becoming easier to talk about isn’t just a prelude to it becoming easier to justify. That would… not be good. I mean, I really have to get over this, or way or another, I guess. I think.

Just imagine- this blog, only more depressing. lol. The mind boggles.

What would that even look like? IDK, but I hope to not find out.

We’ll just have to see.

Ok. So.

Get this, lol.

One of my old familiars (wizard stuff, like, a small helper spirit) started screaming at me tonight. Like, holy shit, lol. I mean, in a good way, basically imploring me not to kill myself. Really weird experience, that was. This necromancer shit can be really odd, lol. But seriously, like screaming screaming. Begging, pleading me to get myself straightened out. It was surreal, to say the least. Little familiar there was… frightened. Quite so, because I guess it would die as well. Or maybe it just likes me, IDK. But yeah, screaming screaming. It wouldn’t stop until I actually talked with it.

But it’s still not convinced.

Afterwards, I reread the last few, like 5 or 6, posts of mine and… wow. I need serious psychological help. Like big time.

I mean I knew it but man, wow. I am seriously on the edge here, lol. I mean I just mulled suicide over again- yes AGAIN- for like an hour tonight. This was after the familiar thing. Also before. It was like, an hour here, and then an hour there. But yeah, an hour after. 2 hours total.

So. Yeah this country is exquisitely shitty, obviously. Me being suicidal does not let the media or the government or anything else off the hook for anything I have said below. Or Cady, or anything.

But still, yeah I need serious help. I mean, it’s literally three in the morning, and I’m high on drugs, doing… THIS, lol. Pretty much the definition of “rock bottom”, I would think.

I just want out. The quicker the better.

Or help, but fuck knows where I can find it. It’s nowhere.

After I name checked Debby Ryan and started talking about killing myself and Cady Groves and all of that, she put up on her twitter some pinnned tweets about suicide prevention. For… girls. Not for me.

It’s NEVER for me.

Never.

And that’s a problem.

There simply is nothing out there. I mean I could pay exorbitant amounts of money for therapy (which I don’t have) or… what? I don’t know, truly. I’m a middle aged non-jewish white man. Where the fuck do I turn to for advice? To whom? Seriously. Where the fuck do I go?

I honestly have no idea.

I mean I could call the national suicide hotline, or something. But then what? And what if they come and arrest me, or something? I mean, “for my own good”.

And fuck I can’t tell anybody. With red- flag laws the way they are… no chance, lol. With me being me, if I was even remotely honest I would be hauled away for thought crimes before I even finished my story, haha. I can’t tell anyone, I can’t be honest with anybody, ever. I’m too white, too gentile, too male. And I don’t have the money- being a white male is excusable if you are rich enough. If you’re not, you’re utterly doomed.

So where the fuck do I go?

Beats me, lol.

I guess I’ll just keep doing what I’m doing now and hope it turns out for the best.

I have no other ideas.

It’s just… I need to talk to someone, and there is nobody there that I can talk to, or even to point the way to me. To make it obvious what it is that I am supposed to do, and how to do it. Like, what do I even do, here? Can anybody help me? I KNOW you’re reading this. What. The fuck. Am I supposed to do?

Someone?

Anybody?

Hello?

I was trying to decide, just now. Should I make “Pointless, Stupid Violence from Blacks” into a series, or start a new one? I was also thinking of titling this post “The United States is a Disgusting Shithole”, but thought against it at the last second. Was it a wise decision? IDK, we’ll see how this one plays out.

Well, the title kind of explains itself, yeah? It looks like the “black community” is having a record- breaking year when it comes to inner city homicides across the nation. Wonderful people, they are. It’s just so… enriching, knowing that I need to know how to fight and kill to feel even somewhat safe on the streets at night, because of all the enrichment. It’s just sooooo enriching. Do you feel enriched? Because I can’t even emphasize the enrichness of the enriching I feel. U S A! U S A!! Muh freeeeedumb!!!

IDK, I mean… I could go on, and on, blah blah. Whatever. Blacks are too violent, we know. Blacks are too dumb and lazy, we know. They don’t read, don’t think, don’t care to try to pretend to care about anything but themselves, we know. Blah blah.

And ever so, the media just looks dumb and dumberer on a daily basis when it comes to anything racial, we know. They all fucking suck, all of them, just like all of our politicians, everywhere. They all fucking suck, we know. They always will, we know. The same with all of our businesses and business leaders. There are no good ones, anywhere. They are all idiots at best, genocidal traitorous idiots at worst (like Soros, etc. You know.)

So, whatever. I don’t envy the stupid fuckheads in the media. They must live in fear every night, the lot of them. The fear of being found out, of being held accountable. Quite a few of them I’m sure are nervous wrecks, which probably explains why they have become even more shrill and pushy than usual lately.

And I think they do look scared. You can see it in the talking heads whenever someone goes even slightly off script, for any reason. You can see what looks like terror in their eyes. Perhaps some don’t catch this but for whatever reason I can.

The New York Times is just worthless gibberish these days, not fit even for catching bird shit. They actively try to hide their mistakes, of course, and get caught, constantly, by the watchful eyes of independent thinkers, you know, by “trolls”, when they try to go back and change their articles and statements after the fact without disclosing to the public what they are doing. Of course, I’m sure they all do it, but the NYT is the “paper of record!!!!!” blah blah blah.

It’s all shit. Whatever, who cares. Like all things that don’t involve Israel, it isn’t important, right, guys?

Honestly, fuck these shitheads.

I don’t care who Trump puts on the supreme court, or if he even does. Anyone he picks is going to suck, they are all the same, basically, except for small gradients here and there on this or that minor policy. I heard tho that his (or Israel’s?) picks were apparently especially odious to his base. IDK, I don’t know who they were. But that’s probably some ploy. Like, they’ll trot out the rumor of him picking somebody hideous, and then his supporters will breath a sigh of relief when it’s someone slightly less hideous. I mean, “At least it wasn’t so-and-so!” They’ll gab. Whatever, it’s all shit.

Nothing will get done about anything important; it doesn’t matter.

But back on track, blacks are still rampaging around the cities and picking off white people at random. I mean, I know, right? Of course they are, that’s what they do. But apparently they’re doing it more than usual these days since there are less police around. Things are getting so bad that some idiots in the media and the political spectrum are complaining about the police not doing their jobs and such, lol. And apparently these are the same people that supported BLM and the defund the police movements and all of that crap. Whatever, it’s on twitter, somewhere. I could look through my history and find it I guess but nah, why bother.

Apparently some celebs are taking facebook to task for “Not doing enough about hate!!!!!” which of course means in people speak “some concerned citizens in the public are trying to warn others about the dramatic rise in black violence”. This makes the celebs look dumb, of course. I think it’s Selena Gomez and maybe Taylor Swift doing this. IDK if Taylor is. But I think Selena is. Bless her heart, she’s cute and well meaning, but unfortunately not as smart as some, which, when I come to think about it, is a pretty good way to describe most celebs. IDK, maybe that’s my type, lol. But whatever, they look dumb to all but the people that inhabit the twittersphere, which I remind you is holding on for dear life at the bottom of the top 50 websites list.

But yeah, they…… reallllly overestimate, I think, the appeal of BLM and the riots in general. Like, very much so. I don’t think they quite realize how much this is costing them. But, whatever. They have money, and since this country does not have economic mobility, that means they don’t need to do any real thinking or take any real stands anymore. They’re a part of the 1%, and that is where they will stay, no matter the circumstances. And I mean that without exaggeration- to have money in this country means you are above the law, above any kind of real scrutiny, provided you don’t annoy Israel.

blah blah blah blah blah why even bother typing this crap. Who cares, let this place sink.

I guess I just need to vent.

If I’m to die, I suppose I’m taking those bastards with me, lol.

Yeah, why not. I’ll make this a series just to let off steam, or something. Why not. They do what they want without thinking about consequences, why not me?

Sure. Whatever.

I think it’s time to talk about something I was pushing away for awhile.

Let’s talk Crybaby.

Alright, here goes.

This is one of my favorite songs from one of my favorite musicians. Cady Groves. You may have heard of her, lol. Probably here, first, before anywhere else if you’re not in the entertainment biz. But I’ve loved this song since I first heard it on her soundcloud a loooooong time ago. I wrote about it first some five years ago, when I awarded it “Song of the Day” in a silly post here, search for it to find it. And I quoted the lyrics in Part IV of this series. I wanted to get into their meaning then, but… couldn’t.

So… now’s the time.

The lyrics:

You only want me when I’m done
You only break me when I’m whole again
You’re only right because I’m wrong
I only stay until I’m gone again

But what if I took your records
Took all your time (I took all your time)
And what if i stole your innocence
Like you stole mine (cause you stole mine)
And what if spend your money
Every dime
You’ll be just like me (you’ll be just like me)
So cry baby cry, why-y-y why-y-y why-y-y (crrryyyyyyy)
Cry baby cry, why-y-y why-y-y why-y-y (won’t you cry for me, won’t you cry for me)
Cry baby cry, why-y-y why-y-y why-y-y (cause you stole mine)
Cry baby cry, why-y-y why-y-y why-y-y (won’t you cry for me, won’t you cry for me)

It’s mean. Yes, that’s what it is. Mean. Very cruel, nasty. I can see that now. Very hurtful. Mocking, insulting. She makes fun of… everything, of me. How I feel, how I cry, how I express myself. I didn’t see it then, but now I do. My life, as a whole. It’s dismissive, rude, patronizing, and ugly.

It’s a good song. But it’s a mean one, one that cuts deep to the core. She really knew, perhaps more than anyone else, how to trigger me, and this is something of her way of driving the knife in, deep, past the point where I could do anything about it. It’s a suicide note in song form. An expression of rage. About how I treated her, and what she thought of… us.

I don’t know how else to look at this.

I don’t think there’s any other interpretation of these lyrics that makes sense. And, coming from anyone else, it wouldn’t matter. I wouldn’t have cared. But Cady- as I said, she was special. Coming from her, it… works. She was the one that I “let in” the most. The one I was most fond of, even when I wasn’t with her. As I said above, even when we weren’t together, I always listened to her music. I still do, which I guess is part of the reason I’m having trouble getting beyond this.

But yeah, ouch. Jeebus, this cuts deep, lol.

Why ohhhhh why, Cady?

There, lol. You see? Whyyyyy whyyyy whyyyyy, right? It’s just so mean.

I think it’s a matter of respect. I respected her more than pretty much anyone else I’ve been with. I think that’s why it digs so deep. Anyone else? Nahhhhh, probably not. But her yeah. I listened to her soo much for this not to work.

“Crybaby”. Or as it comes out in the song- “Cry, baby, cry!” Right, Cady. Sure Cady, I’ll cry my eyes out for you again. Fuck you, you bitch.

I mean, I’m sorry, but still, fuck you, anyways. You knew what you were doing, to me. And I was too dumb to see it, I don’t know why. Maybe because I really am like you thought I was. “What if I stole your innocence, like you stole mine”. Right. Fuck you, cunt.

You just… can’t answer this. She’s dead. There’s no comeback that works, no matter what I write here.

That’s what a lot of her songs are like, past Kelly’s death. Great, inspired music, but also… with an undercurrent of bitterness and resentfulness, especially maybe to me.

I wanted to protect her soooooo badly, maybe too badly, maybe because of this. I mean I could feel it. I couldn’t see it, I mean I really couldn’t until she died, but I could pick up on her lyrics’ undercurrents.

She was… damaged, and not fake damaged, like some pop stars’ affections. And then there’s me, with that dumb male impulse to protect women. Sigh. I guess there’s a reason why some guys make it a policy to not pursue damaged chicks. Dumb me.

Maybe I shouldn’t have. Maybe she wasn’t good for me… except when she so was. I don’t know.

But what if I took your records
Took all your time (I took all your time)
And what if i stole your innocence
Like you stole mine (cause you stole mine)
And what if spend your money
Every dime
You’ll be just like me (you’ll be just like me)
So cry baby cry, why-y-y why-y-y why-y-y (crrryyyyyyy)
Cry baby cry, why-y-y why-y-y why-y-y (won’t you cry for me, won’t you cry for me)
Cry baby cry, why-y-y why-y-y why-y-y (cause you stole mine)
Cry baby cry, why-y-y why-y-y why-y-y (won’t you cry for me, won’t you cry for me)

… wow. I mean, what do I even say to this?

Nothing.

That’s what. Because there is nothing left to say. At least, to her.

Am I truly like her, now? Like the lyrics want me to be? Is she happy that she made me hurt like she did? Is that it? I… hope not.

Cady I know you can read this. You know, I still love you, you know. I mean, even though you’re dead. I’ll keep on doing that unless, maybe I decided you weren’t right for me and I have no choice but to leave you, just for my own sake. I don’t know. I just really don’t want you gone, that’s all.

Sigh… Dumb me. Talking to a dead girl, again. Dumb, dumb dumb.

I need to think.

And not about this.