A heart of rage (M.H.T.M #1)

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by NotHyperion

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Aion

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I wondered if 'raging against the dying of the light' was the way out. It always sounded so clever!
But if you fight fire with fire, don't you get a bigger fire? God damn, I'm so philosophical. I made mistakes, that trouble me. I think everyone at some point thinks the mistakes they made are bigger than "normal people's mistakes", and they feel they are different. Truly, that only happens because the person perceives the consequences differently. So I guess we CAN say their mistakes are different even if it's the same mistake?
Anyway. My mistakes were worse. They took a toll on me. Or maybe I was broken from the start, who knows, who cares.
I walk in the empty city, that is purposefully empty. I wonder if I think, if I think that it's empty cause everyone died, or because I simply wanted to and had the power to build it.
The same power that brought to life the awful evil that began haunting the city. I mean, shit, how does it all work?
Interesting, how I used to draw him to get attention. It was so cool and edgy, that kind of thing you draw to get attention, but even said attention is imaginary, because you only imagine someone will find it someday and say "ooooh they used to draw this". But you know that ain't ever happening, even if there was a bullet in your head and blood all over the page, they still wouldnt read it and say "ooh, they used to draw this". So why do it in the first place?
It's your mind taking the risk, the intentional risk of destroying it self in exchange for some satisfaction. imaginary satisfaction, like I said.
An endless loop! Why does your mind do it? do humans love self destruction? oh, wait, haha!
of course they do.
Who are YOU?
I don't remember inviting you on my fancy building. I didn't even design it manually, but I guess it's there. The whole point was having no one in it.
now that I think about it, will I ever get to explore it all? do I even want to? What am I so attached to here? I guess... it's mine. Maybe?
ANYWAY, what I was saying. Who the hell are you, and why the hell are you kicking me out. You know this is mine right, isn't it what I just said?
You have to be mine too, then. right?
Then please let me stay. You realize I can't get here more often, right?
well, what can you do...I hope I don't see you again. Or maybe I do, just to spice things up in this place. this place that's supposed to be empty, you know!
Now, risk won't leave me alone. and I'm awfully tired of being happy with self destruction. To bad the little sketch I used to do became a piece of digital vectors. I guess it's impressive I managed to do it digitally, but you know what it means, right? it gets bigger. And I am saying it NOW, but believe me, I didn't know what it meant.
I get back in the city, finally. Its funny, cause I always adore it, but it is always different. I guess the concept is the same. No one has ever set foot in it, aside from me. Not without my approval, until that girl showed up and kicked me out. What the hell.
She is my heart. and she is here now. And I'm starting to like it. I realize no one can read your mind, or your dreams for that matter, so who cares?
If I walk around murdering everybody, thinking of awful crimes, no one will know. So I can just do it. And my heart is now with me.
I wonder if she has something to do with that lovely white haired chick. Or if she is the pills.
Holly shit, is she the pills?
no, that's the white haired chick.
My heart is different... I won't even say "maybe" its my mind speaking to me. that's literally what it is.
But what is it saying?
Heart, mind, it's not the same, yet the heart manifests in the mind. Does that make sense?
well, that's what this girl is.
And I've gotten into the habit of talking to her. She is super smart. Does that mean I am? God damn, this is so stupid.
I miss Indigo...the white haired chick, you know?
Yes, I started taking the pills, but she was there before that, you know? she was the bad girl, not in a sexual way, but in a villain way, not everything is sex, you know?
She was the bad one, tormenting me for what I did. Or for what I perceived I did, which is different for everyone. Now she is gone, but the guilt is not.
And even though she was the boss, she made my life brighter.
I wanted to be with her all the time. She was always so mean, but she taught me things, and I admired her, which is all that matters. I loved her. Not in a romantic way. in a friend, way. She was my friend.
And not even her showed up in the city.
Now this girl...this one is different.
What part of "she is my heart" did you not understand? I know you understood it, but how else am I supposed to repeat "she is my heart" without it sounding too repetitive?
It's not a metaphor. even though "heart" is a metaphor, cause I'm talking feelings, not organs. But what I mean, is that, "she is my heart", it's not a metaphor. She is my feelings. Manifested.
And it that's how she manifests, it is damn messed up, I'll tell you.

So, while it goes on in my head, out here, I hurt myself. Or at least I tell people I do. And I do, sadly, she was right, "emotional pain is worse than physical pain sometimes". I was soooo TOUGH that I would always say, "nope, that's idiotic. emotions aren't real", yah know, edgy shit.

My nights aren't good, and no, I'm not going gentle into them. I am raging. But not because the light dies, but because it comes back out again. Each time. The light that died was the one inside my chest. It isn't my heart. My heart is there, so, SO desperate, that it had to invade the city, kick me out back to reality, and show me that the heart does matter, and that without it, life will be this miserable. But you can't throw things into black holes without them disappearing for ever. But is anyone even certain about that, like, 100%?
nope. And I'm not either.
So I keep bleeding, crying, screaming, and fighting this thing, not because I want to, but because I feel like I have to. So maybe someday, one will look at the little sketch and think "ooh...he doesn't draw that now. and it makes me happy."

NO one wants you here. not even me. stop killing me.
My heart is on my side now. Even though I disregarded it and threw it away. I need it now, but it can't help me, cause I can't help myself. It is hard. And I keep bleeding, crying, screaming, and not wanting to fight this thing anymore.

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