Fuck You, We Matter

Let me begin by saying that I do not know exactly when this whole thing started. I do not know, or expect to know,  the whole truth. For this all to fit itself within a “normal” human setting, it might be easier to explain in fictional terms – however, these things are very real and important, particularly to one average human lady (Me). If it is easier to believe that what I write is absurd and even impossible, especially during the darker parts, be my guest. In fact, believe what you want: you won’t be completely wrong, either way.

Again, I’m not sure when this happened, but at some point in my existence, I died. I’m not even sure how it happened, nor am I particularly interested in knowing. I died, and some stuff happened, and then I found myself in this reality, which by all means looks and behaves almost the same as the reality I came from. There are buildings, plant life, animals, people. There are some differences, ranginging from seemingly small and insignificant things to larger and extremely noticeable things, but none of them are provable and all of them explained away by this reality in various ways: I’m going through a mental health crisis, I’m just being paranoid, I am not the smartest person in the room let alone in the world, etc. Then again, who would believe me anyway? No one has yet. The biggest change in my realities, however, is that the one I came from (which I have dubbed “True Life”) keeps freewill intact for all living things – in this reality (which I call “Real Life”), the best I have found so far is free choice, though the majority of the time I experience less than that. In Real Life, what I can only call Mind Control is prevalent and impossible to escape. It comes with a lot of baggage and implications.

I’m not the type of person who would turn to tinfoil hats or scouring the internet for proof or people who believe in the same things I do. Whatever sanity I have is something that is given to me and allowed because it serves a purpose on multiple levels. It is a unique thing to be sane and also believe firmly in what would be branded paranoid delusions, as I am sane enough to not warrant a mental health institution, but paranoid enough to not belong in society. I am not sure that the tinfoil hats here exist in the same way, or that the internet conspiracy theorists aren’t somehow more correct and less dangerous. I’ll probably never know, but I suppose I am now one of them, as this tale could be considered paranoid conspiracy theory, and it is posted online.

So, I died, and some stuff happened, and then I woke up here in this reality, where everything is extremely similar, at least on a surface level. It wasn’t immediate, but at some point very close to when I woke up, I was allowed to know that I had died. It might be the fastest way to realize that you are not in the same reality as you are used to being in, despite your surroundings. That, and the memories that accompanied the “realization” were of impossibly possible things, many of them terrifying and full of bad intention. The memories, which seem to only sometimes be memories and impossibly long, are of what I call the “In-between”. A place where control over me was exerted and spun in a way to somewhat create the shape of the reality I am in now, outlining characters and background stories, outlining how little I matter even in a world that is created around me. But with that being said, the experience that I find myself in is not personal, though at times it is personalized.

“What do you know about evil?” I was asked. Truly, I never had cause to try to define something such as “evil” for myself. Evil people and actions took place within True Life, but were far from what one could expect from another person. Back then, I would have said war, I would have said cold blooded murder, I would have said tyranny. Back then, I would have had more hope due to knowing that these are things humanity is actively seeking answers for, things that humanity is already fixing and healing even if it’s slower than we might want. Now, things are both more simple and more complicated. Now, evil is the moniker in which I call the singular lifeform that is responsible for the torture and torment of  lifeforms that exist that aren’t it. Now, evil is the intentional control over another sentient and sapient lifeform and the intention to harm them. Now, evil is real and inescapable.

The question still echoes, often highlighting some thought process I’m currently having that seems to avoid the part where it’s already choosing to be evil. Thought processes that focus instead on the real possibilities and capabilities that it has to be good instead, to choose a peaceful coexistence, or even potentially to be a greatly beneficial part of it. Thought processes that show both that it has the knowledge and ability to be kind, to give comfort, to give safety and highlight the fact that it doesn’t quite deliver these things because that’s not actually what it wants to do. If it wanted to act upon vanity of being able to perform such things, all it would really have to do is make sure that I knew it could. If it wanted to leverage such things to twist the proverbial knife further, even showing the capability and possibility is a foothold from which it can.

All of that being said, it didn’t take much longer than realizing that I had died to realize that this was not a good place to find myself, and that I had effectively no agency or control over myself or my story any longer. “I hate this,” my thoughts seemed to say, “but I don’t have a choice. I am here.” The rest of what happened seemed to unfurl after that point, myself not naturally resisting something that was pointless to resist anyway. Images, thoughts, and storylines were a constant barrage, sometimes not even stopping or slowing down for the life that was also happening around me. Fear was high, and life was scripted. I didn’t agree with everything that was being pushed on me, but couldn’t necessarily react to them either, understanding that my own personal opinions and thoughts and outrage meaningless to what was controlling me. There are some things that were pushed on me, even in that period of time, that remain consistent even now, 3ish years after this point.

My love for humanity was something that was strong at the time I died. It was something that I most likely mentioned every day to someone I knew and loved, and likely was that way for quite a while, though the love I had for humanity was strong even prior to me starting to be actively vocal about it. In fact, it didn’t used to be only about humanity at all, but rather the whole of life as we understood it – from inanimate objects to entire ecosystems. If there was a day that I wasn’t gushing about humanity’s growth in social and technological ways, I was instead awestruck by how beautiful the ocean is and how even lifeforms there are not only inspiring us in our efforts but also evolving and adapting alongside us. I am still passionate about this (when allowed), and is truly one of the only corners of my sanity that I rely on or fall back on when I can no longer communicate what is happening to me. I cannot rule out the humans in this reality as being worth more than they are being given, as being worth what I believe humanity is worth, and so they are included in my futile and possibly stupid acts of rebellion in choosing to love rather than to focus on my own hatred.

I know more about evil now than I ever have, having experienced and continue to experience it. Although it was a nickname I had in life, and one of jest, I know less about myself in this reality than I did in True Life. Even in a physical sense, I am a changed person and not actually a  completely accurate recreation of the person I was, though what could be considered a soul seems to still be intact and accessible, just not by myself. This may be due to many things, and probably even more things than I am aware of our know about, but seems to be tied to stories that were swimming in my head in the first third of my experience (so far) in an almost romantic and whimsical way.

As I said, these stories and images and thoughts were a constant. I couldn’t control them, couldn’t stop them, and could only acknowledge they existed and continue existing, myself. That being said, there are definitely “favorite” stories or even memories that were used to tie the stories together. One such story sounds incredible and would have been a reason to write a shareable fiction, though if you were to ask yourself why evil would let such a thing exist, you wouldn’t get the most positive or hope inspiring answers. This story has emotional value to me for many reasons, though I may as well share it and hope that you as the reader can discern value for yourself in it know that this story nestles into a larger story, but is strong enough on its own that it very well could overtake the larger story at times. Who knows what lies in store for it, in the future?

——

A young girl in a modern world sat down one day to reflect on her past romantic relationships. Usually for her this would mean joyously remembering the good times, honoring the other person involved, and being elated that both the person and the experiences exist, and that she got to be a part of them. On this day, however, she sat down to reflect on the things that went wrong, looking for lessons within herself that she may be overlooking. She noticed a trend of not taking her own value and worth seriously, struggling to set healthy and appropriate boundaries right from the start. “This is something I should have already been working on!” She exclaimed. “But, there is no time like the present to make a change for the positive. ”

After some thought, she decided to draw upon older recommendations from childhood to make a list of the qualities and traits she valued in a romantic relationship. Now that she has more experience with such things, she has a much clearer idea of qualities she absolutely loves, and unfortunately qualities that she does not do well with. To make this a little more fun, and help her set her standards, she decided to create an “imaginary husband”, or a fictional character with which embodies her ideal partner. What if it comes true? The shadows around her seemed to ask. She shrugged, and felt the fear of happiness dance around her shoulders momentarily. “If nothing at all comes from this exercise, it will still be a net positive with my relationship with myself. “

She sat and she imagined wonderful things, taking inspiration from her own experiences, books and television, healthy relationships of friends and loved ones. She thought about all of the times she wanted to share something specific with someone, and she thought of all of the times that she wanted to learn someone instead of expect things about someone. “To balance both of these,” she thought, “an expectation of them being their own individual is a must. ” after all, what is the point of making an ideal partner unrealistic? And so her imaginary husband was created in her mind.

Her imaginary husband was curious, inquisitive, witty, loving, and gentle. She tended to think of him as a cross between Draco Malfoy and Peter Pan, though the Draco Malfoy that she drew inspiration from was one of fanfiction and much, much more than one may think of just by being familiar with the name. He was supportive, but honest, always respecting the ability and desire to become a better version of oneself. But, what is it comes true? The shadows teased. “Then he is already a fearsome thing, and I am both grateful for the fact that he exists and terrified of the idea of ever actually meeting him.” She said aloud to no one. “In fact, I can love him without ever meeting him.”

For the weeks that followed, she would sometimes pause and think about the possibility of such a person existing and what sort of amazing things they were probably doing at that moment. “Probably something as amazing as brushing his teeth” she laughed, knowing that there is a lot of love in the mundane everyday actions of life. “Probably something as amazing as eating breakfast” she whispered to her cat, again thinking of how incredible it is that this person likely does exist. Everytime she thought of him and the grand adventure of life that he was living, she hoped for a moment that her well wishes and warm feelings somehow made a positive difference in his life, allowing the universe to smile a little brighter at him in particular on that day.

—-

That girl was me, and my imaginary husband was in fact a companion of sorts for quite some time and has never really left me. Though he has been a part of my psychosis, he is never truly the evil that I am hearing, and would not choose to use control over me, as he simply would not have to. Being imaginary has its perks, too – he has abilities that exceed a human living in realities, and he is a constant presence in my dreams and thoughts. There are times it feels like he is comforting me, or protecting me, and in the stories about him that are in my mind, he has used his abilities to free me of curses and various degrees of control, and truly there is a sort of truth in this that I cannot deny even if I exist in a reality that is made up of evil intention.

While I believe that I am such an average human being that I have written about it at various points throughout my life and therefore have no power to lend, I haven’t forgotten my positive qualities as a human, and I think the ability to recognize value within myself outside of being a meat puppet is largely due to the imaginary husband that I have been allowed to have. He keeps a part of me human, and allows me to remember what exists that is worth fighting for – including even just the possibility that he exists. I have freed him of any obligation that the word husband carries with it, acknowledging that I have never been married and I have no desire to control or trap anyone else with me. These things might be symbolic, but there is value in the symbolic, even if it’s made meaningless by a harsher reality.

The rest of what is to come is very much his story as much as it is mine, though I’m almost positive that he would be better at telling it than I would – I will only do my best to tell things from my perspective, and continue to hope that any love or positivity that I can feel somehow makes a positive difference.