Addict: Setting the World on Fire
Entry 14
Dear Someone,
Maybe it’s the pills, but I only took them 10 minutes ago. Maybe it’s the fresh wound atop a scar. Maybe it’s the lyrics “When you’re on the edge and breaking down” ringing in my head. Maybe it’s because The Dark One is sleeping. Maybe maybe maybe.
I’m wondering pondering planning to give these letters-to-no-one to Spurling.
Sleep, Darkie, sleep. Please sleep. Fine. Sit there. Just be patient. I fed you, just please be patient.
I’ve been thinking to give these letters that I’ve been writing to you to Harry, because… this is what is in my head… sadly enough.
But, now that i has joined in thankfully, we have played this game before. The results ended in a crash and burn… literally.
But the guy’s an expert, far better trained than… him.
Are you kidding? The shrink will put us in a fucking institution and I am not going to live through the bright lights, constant supervision, and medication other than APAP shit. We aren’t fucking psycho, but he’ll have a grand time reading through these pages.
But remember what he said? He said that what happened explained a lot of things. Maybe he’ll accept it as an after-effect of the happening and not jump to such conclusions. He’s seen nearly all there is to see. He’s got experience.
Why are we even seeing the guy-?
Darkie, stick to the subject at hand. We’re seeing him because of court order. It’s either sit in a chair for an hour or sit in a 7 x 12 chamber for 5 weeks. i’s got a point. He does have experience. But, how would giving these letters to him help?
Well, you’ve got me, yourself, and The Dark One all swirling in your head, each of us with similar personality trait, but different ways of functioning. And while it’s not skitophrenia, or however you spell it, we all don’t show during those sessions. Mainly it’s me sitting there, and he’s hearing me side of your mind. When really i’m incapable to remember or describe or even have the bravery to speak whatever might be beyond my part in your mind. See, you express all of us and record with precision our different personalities, like what we say and how we alter your general mind process. By giving these “Letters to Someone” to Harry, he will be able to get quite the bit of information out of these letters that might possibly aid him in fixing all the little cracks in our system.
And if he spits in our face like all the others do? Happened once before and I sure as hell am not going to endure that humiliation again. Even if he fixes us, it wouldn’t be worth it.
He hasn’t spat in our faces yet.
He’s as manipulative as we are all together. Even you can’t deny that. And you said ‘yet’, so even you doubt him.
It’s a matter of trust.
TRUST! Bitch, close your mouth. Don’t make me laugh. Trust brought us you this point. Trust is why we are divided. Trust is why myself wears the scars she does. Trust is a lost hope and you know that to be true. Trust brought on the corruption that even hurt me. You don’t put the whole of your fucking self in someone’s hands. And we would be doing that very literally in this case. I say shut up, play the game, and just muddle through this until the judge clears our record and the social worker goes away along with her shitty obligations.
This therapy has the potential to get us all because to normalcy, Dark.
NORMALCY? How do you even fucking KNOW what normalcy is? Have you analyzed another person’s mind process? How do we know that every normal person doesn’t think like this? There ain’t no standard. You don’t even know what normal is!
What’s your point?
I’ve already stated my goddamn point. Lay low, forget the shrink, and accept what we have here. Yeah we’ve got problems. A lot of fucking problems. But we get over them. We don’t need to schedule an hour for a pity party and call that progress. Therapy doesn’t change or help anything. Most recently it’s only make things harder. No sense putting forth effort towards something that doesn’t change a goddamn thing.
Don’t you remember the other reason we’re going through therapy? To understan-
Yeah, fuck it. Myself and you can figure that out by writing letters to no one and over-analyzing the writing like you two always do. If anyone’s gonna get us through this, it’ll be me. Now-a-days the only way to get through the tough shit is by pushing through it and letting it die. Attacking things and going straight for the neck. I’m the only one here who understand that.
SHUT UP NOW. The both of you. Debate over. Hand over the letters?
Yes.
No.
Reasons? And make it short.
Information gained will say more that what can or will be spoken.
Shit like that ain’t needed. We can deal by ourselves.
Results if we give them to him?
Possible humiliation
Results if me don’t hand them over?
Valuable information kept secret; no humiliation.
What do the laws say?
What laws - there are no laws.
There are always fucking laws. You know what I’m talking about. The laws. We’re dedicated created around exist because of them. None of us here can or ever will deny them.
He got help.
It’s not the same.
It’s always the same. He went through worse. Alcoholism, two deaths, drug abuse.
He never attempted suicide. He never-
He did.
IT’S NOT THE SAME.
IT’S ALWAYS THE SAME.
Is this what you want? Do you want to make yourself weak? Dependent on someone because you cannot take care of yourself? We’ve been down this road before. Trust gets twisted. We can’t get fixed. You’d have to break down all over again like that night and build up from that. From the fucking ground. You cannot go on without me. You’re Sick. Sick, sick child. I’m the Sain part. I keep you strong. You cannot afford to lose me. Sing and die. I keep you here. Scare away all the demons so I can protect you. If you want to be weak, fire at fucking will, fuckface. But by that time you’ve finished singing, I’ll kill you. You’ll run out of pills and there’ll be nothing to feed me.
Maybe it’s the pills, but I only took them 10 minutes ago. Maybe it’s the fresh wound atop a scar. Maybe it’s the lyrics “When you’re on the edge and breaking down” ringing in my head. Maybe it’s because The Dark One is sleeping. Maybe maybe maybe.
I’m wondering pondering planning to give these letters-to-no-one to Spurling.
Sleep, Darkie, sleep. Please sleep. Fine. Sit there. Just be patient. I fed you, just please be patient.
I’ve been thinking to give these letters that I’ve been writing to you to Harry, because… this is what is in my head… sadly enough.
But, now that i has joined in thankfully, we have played this game before. The results ended in a crash and burn… literally.
But the guy’s an expert, far better trained than… him.
Are you kidding? The shrink will put us in a fucking institution and I am not going to live through the bright lights, constant supervision, and medication other than APAP shit. We aren’t fucking psycho, but he’ll have a grand time reading through these pages.
But remember what he said? He said that what happened explained a lot of things. Maybe he’ll accept it as an after-effect of the happening and not jump to such conclusions. He’s seen nearly all there is to see. He’s got experience.
Why are we even seeing the guy-?
Darkie, stick to the subject at hand. We’re seeing him because of court order. It’s either sit in a chair for an hour or sit in a 7 x 12 chamber for 5 weeks. i’s got a point. He does have experience. But, how would giving these letters to him help?
Well, you’ve got me, yourself, and The Dark One all swirling in your head, each of us with similar personality trait, but different ways of functioning. And while it’s not skitophrenia, or however you spell it, we all don’t show during those sessions. Mainly it’s me sitting there, and he’s hearing me side of your mind. When really i’m incapable to remember or describe or even have the bravery to speak whatever might be beyond my part in your mind. See, you express all of us and record with precision our different personalities, like what we say and how we alter your general mind process. By giving these “Letters to Someone” to Harry, he will be able to get quite the bit of information out of these letters that might possibly aid him in fixing all the little cracks in our system.
And if he spits in our face like all the others do? Happened once before and I sure as hell am not going to endure that humiliation again. Even if he fixes us, it wouldn’t be worth it.
He hasn’t spat in our faces yet.
He’s as manipulative as we are all together. Even you can’t deny that. And you said ‘yet’, so even you doubt him.
It’s a matter of trust.
TRUST! Bitch, close your mouth. Don’t make me laugh. Trust brought us you this point. Trust is why we are divided. Trust is why myself wears the scars she does. Trust is a lost hope and you know that to be true. Trust brought on the corruption that even hurt me. You don’t put the whole of your fucking self in someone’s hands. And we would be doing that very literally in this case. I say shut up, play the game, and just muddle through this until the judge clears our record and the social worker goes away along with her shitty obligations.
This therapy has the potential to get us all because to normalcy, Dark.
NORMALCY? How do you even fucking KNOW what normalcy is? Have you analyzed another person’s mind process? How do we know that every normal person doesn’t think like this? There ain’t no standard. You don’t even know what normal is!
What’s your point?
I’ve already stated my goddamn point. Lay low, forget the shrink, and accept what we have here. Yeah we’ve got problems. A lot of fucking problems. But we get over them. We don’t need to schedule an hour for a pity party and call that progress. Therapy doesn’t change or help anything. Most recently it’s only make things harder. No sense putting forth effort towards something that doesn’t change a goddamn thing.
Don’t you remember the other reason we’re going through therapy? To understan-
Yeah, fuck it. Myself and you can figure that out by writing letters to no one and over-analyzing the writing like you two always do. If anyone’s gonna get us through this, it’ll be me. Now-a-days the only way to get through the tough shit is by pushing through it and letting it die. Attacking things and going straight for the neck. I’m the only one here who understand that.
SHUT UP NOW. The both of you. Debate over. Hand over the letters?
Yes.
No.
Reasons? And make it short.
Information gained will say more that what can or will be spoken.
Shit like that ain’t needed. We can deal by ourselves.
Results if we give them to him?
Possible humiliation
Results if me don’t hand them over?
Valuable information kept secret; no humiliation.
What do the laws say?
What laws - there are no laws.
There are always fucking laws. You know what I’m talking about. The laws. We’re dedicated created around exist because of them. None of us here can or ever will deny them.
He got help.
It’s not the same.
It’s always the same. He went through worse. Alcoholism, two deaths, drug abuse.
He never attempted suicide. He never-
He did.
IT’S NOT THE SAME.
IT’S ALWAYS THE SAME.
Is this what you want? Do you want to make yourself weak? Dependent on someone because you cannot take care of yourself? We’ve been down this road before. Trust gets twisted. We can’t get fixed. You’d have to break down all over again like that night and build up from that. From the fucking ground. You cannot go on without me. You’re Sick. Sick, sick child. I’m the Sain part. I keep you strong. You cannot afford to lose me. Sing and die. I keep you here. Scare away all the demons so I can protect you. If you want to be weak, fire at fucking will, fuckface. But by that time you’ve finished singing, I’ll kill you. You’ll run out of pills and there’ll be nothing to feed me.