CaptainWacky
I want to smell dark matter
Charles Horse remembered. Or he tried to remember. It was hard to know which memories were real and which were invented. Which were just memories of memories. Edited memories. Things from tv shows. Whatever. It was hard to tell. Charles Horse went for years trying not to think about his life. Trying not to remember. He hadn't liked his life very much. He'd gotten everything wrong. And now he was alone and would be forever. What was the point in thinking back to times when he'd had a chance? An opportunity to be normal. What was the point...
But one memory he did have was his last day of high school. He remembered that day, everyone else talking amongst themselves. Making plans to stay in touch. Telling stories. Being excited about the future. And him...just standing there. Letting it all happen around him. He'd felt it at the time. Felt how different he was. Known that he should have tried to say something. But there was nothing. He was like an alien living with regular, normal human beings. He'd spent the whole day (the whole school day) trying to think of something to say. Maybe he'd said a few things to the people he normally talked to. But nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing a real person moving on to the next stage of their life would have said.
The part he remembered the most was the very end. Standing at the shool gates. Talking to some friends. The only part where he'd felt something. The only part where he'd said some goodbyes. Except...something had happened. A feeling, in his brain. Behind his eyes. In everything he was. He'd felt like he was drowning. But...mentally. Everything that was happening suddenly felt unreal. Changed. Like there was a delay between the real world and his brain. Or a barrier. Or custard. Something. There was something in his head. Maybe it had always been there? Because he couldn't quite remembered how he'd felt before. He'd had that alien feeling all day, he remembered that. But in that moment, standing by the gates...something had snapped in his brain.
Charles Horse had been born.
And now he was sitting on his bed and the reason he'd remembered all this was becasue for a brief moment it had been like the delay, the barrier, and the custard, like it had all gone away. Like everything was happening in real time again. Like he was experiencing the world normally. Like he could feel. And it had terrified him. He'd just been sitting there alone in his dark room and that brief moment of full awareness of the world had terrified him. And what was worse was thinking that maybe he could have always felt it. Maybe he'd willingly put the barrier, the delay, the custard up in his mind as a defense mechanism. Maybe it had been the only way he could cope with life. Maybe he could have been living a normal life all along but he'd been too afraid.
Or maybe he'd just been imagining it. Daydreaming. How could he know? What was the difference between feeling something and imagining you were feeling something? He had no frame or reference. He tried to imagine it again. Tried to feel it. For a second it was there. Then he shut it off again. Then he couldn't get it back.
He lay awake on his bed instead, wasting space.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
ggggggggggggg
yshess
ffffffffffff
r
r
g
g
g
meep meep
meep meep meep meep
meep meep
meep meep meep meep
meep meep meep meep meep
meep meep meep meep meep
meep meep meep meep meep meep meep meep meep
meep meep meep meep meep meep meep meep meep
meep meep
________________________________
fjlre
r
dg
j
remember that time Chris Benoit said "they'r emade out of Candy...JUst LIKE YOUR ASS"
we should have known!
ggdfs
g
hfs
dn
gdf
____________________________________
done's matter what you do
just die
fggggggggggggggggg
rg
sf
d
sh
d
njopoooooo
no rewards
__________
fggggggggire
sh
I'm not anything
ther'es no mystery
im' allt he thigns I have expereince
ther'es nothing to discoeer about myself
there is no type I fit
im this
the thing of the day writer
and that's all I'll ever be
But one memory he did have was his last day of high school. He remembered that day, everyone else talking amongst themselves. Making plans to stay in touch. Telling stories. Being excited about the future. And him...just standing there. Letting it all happen around him. He'd felt it at the time. Felt how different he was. Known that he should have tried to say something. But there was nothing. He was like an alien living with regular, normal human beings. He'd spent the whole day (the whole school day) trying to think of something to say. Maybe he'd said a few things to the people he normally talked to. But nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing a real person moving on to the next stage of their life would have said.
The part he remembered the most was the very end. Standing at the shool gates. Talking to some friends. The only part where he'd felt something. The only part where he'd said some goodbyes. Except...something had happened. A feeling, in his brain. Behind his eyes. In everything he was. He'd felt like he was drowning. But...mentally. Everything that was happening suddenly felt unreal. Changed. Like there was a delay between the real world and his brain. Or a barrier. Or custard. Something. There was something in his head. Maybe it had always been there? Because he couldn't quite remembered how he'd felt before. He'd had that alien feeling all day, he remembered that. But in that moment, standing by the gates...something had snapped in his brain.
Charles Horse had been born.
And now he was sitting on his bed and the reason he'd remembered all this was becasue for a brief moment it had been like the delay, the barrier, and the custard, like it had all gone away. Like everything was happening in real time again. Like he was experiencing the world normally. Like he could feel. And it had terrified him. He'd just been sitting there alone in his dark room and that brief moment of full awareness of the world had terrified him. And what was worse was thinking that maybe he could have always felt it. Maybe he'd willingly put the barrier, the delay, the custard up in his mind as a defense mechanism. Maybe it had been the only way he could cope with life. Maybe he could have been living a normal life all along but he'd been too afraid.
Or maybe he'd just been imagining it. Daydreaming. How could he know? What was the difference between feeling something and imagining you were feeling something? He had no frame or reference. He tried to imagine it again. Tried to feel it. For a second it was there. Then he shut it off again. Then he couldn't get it back.
He lay awake on his bed instead, wasting space.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
ggggggggggggg
yshess
ffffffffffff
r
r
g
g
g
meep meep
meep meep meep meep
meep meep
meep meep meep meep
meep meep meep meep meep
meep meep meep meep meep
meep meep meep meep meep meep meep meep meep
meep meep meep meep meep meep meep meep meep
meep meep
________________________________
fjlre
r
dg
j
remember that time Chris Benoit said "they'r emade out of Candy...JUst LIKE YOUR ASS"
we should have known!
ggdfs
g
hfs
dn
gdf
____________________________________
done's matter what you do
just die
fggggggggggggggggg
rg
sf
d
sh
d
njopoooooo
no rewards
__________
fggggggggire
sh
I'm not anything
ther'es no mystery
im' allt he thigns I have expereince
ther'es nothing to discoeer about myself
there is no type I fit
im this
the thing of the day writer
and that's all I'll ever be