So at the end of 35 I said I would be including some weird shit in this (currently bi-)weekly. And then I realised the full ramifications of doing so. And so decided not to.

Which leaves me with somewhat of a dilemma as to content. So I'm going to go in for some more of that hypothetical hoopla that I used oh-so effectively back in 33.


=BEGIN HYPOTHETICAL=

Everyone has fucked up thoughts; what would it be like to kill a person? What would it be like to fuck the remains? What would it be like to -------------- ------- and ----- and ---- ----- of ------- ------ ------ -----?

Nothing wrong with that. We can't control those strange little thoughts that bubble up occasionally from our subconscious. So no harm done.

Problems start to arise (at least for me) because I enjoy such thoughts tremendously. In my weaker moments (ie - most all of the time) I experience great pleasure from such thoughts. Won't go into details. That's part of the thing that I don't want people knowing. But, suffice it to say that, if I thought anyone else had such thoughts, I would quite cheerily kill them. From a general sense of disgust and loathing.

Now this has been with me for quite a while now. And, when I've hinted at in the past, friends have told me that so long as I keep my thoughts inside my head then it doesn't matter. 'Cos, as I said, we all have weird thoughts. It's what we do about them that counts.

Bollocks.

At the moment, I have near-full control over myself. I stop myself doing things such as those thoughts that I have. But what about the future? See, I've been going on about this for the last year or so, and it's continuing to happen and I'm cracking even more under the pressure of it all; I'm losing that control. My greatest fear (it's a new one, folks!) is that I'll lose it completely. My control. And then I'll regain it. And I'll have done something, that was in my head, in the real world. And there'll be no going back.

Do not dismiss this as me being all self-involved and the like. It's a very real danger. What stops people killing other people? The law? No. If someone wants to kill, the law is the least of their worries. What stops people killing is the desire not to.

Which is what stops me doing what I enjoy so much in my head. Whilst I may love the idea in my weaker moments, in my stronger moments I am disgusted by what I think (Hence the self-loathing). As I said, they are the thoughts I would kill someone else for having.

A few months ago, I was walking home and I saw someone in front of me. And instead of cutting off the thoughts as soon as they began, I let them do their own thing for about ten minutes. And it was fun. I can't stress that enough. Instead of feeling revulsion at what I was thinking, or at least guilt, I was simply blissfully happy.

Which is another reason to worry. If I was simply concerned about losing control for a short time, doing something unforgivable, and then coming back to my senses, that'd be bad enough. With the guilt and self-loathing and prison etc. But there's more. What I'm worried about is losing control, doing something unforgivable, regaining control and then choosing to continue behaving in that way because it makes me feel so damn good.

We are all of us capable of some really bad shit.

Evidence that I'm losing control? That I'm not just speaking bollocks? Can't explain it really. If anything, I'm even more controlled when I go outside; to school or wherever. 'Cos I don't want to lose it when other people are around. But at home, when I'm on my own... I can't stop saying stuff or punching stuff or smashing stuff or moving around or thinking sick thoughts. On Tuesday, on the way home, these images kept appearing in my head and I wanted them to stop; they weren't enjoyable anymore and I kept trying to make them go away and I couldn't and they kept appearing again and again, all different, always getting worse. I had to keep repeating a license-plate number over and over in my head to try and stop the images but all that did was imprint that number over the scenes. I was gibbering at myself and tears were falling down my face by the time I got to my door and people by the ice-cream van looked at me strangely. I keep losing control of my face; making strange grimaces and ticks before realising it. I keep singing louder and louder when I don't want to. It doesn't really sound like much. And as I say, I'm okay most of the time, when there are people around. So it's more a future fear; that if trends continue I know what I'll become.

So that's the problem. What to do about it?

Well, there are blatantly some deep emotional problems going on there; whilst most people may have the odd bizarre thought, most people don't worry about doing those things for real.

So when you do, seeking help would make sense. Which is being done.

So why did I even mention this?

Good ol' reason number 1 (thanks to Gareth for this): If any of you feel the same then at least you know you're not unique and that millions of others have felt the same way before you.

Good ol' reason number 2: I was going to tell you the actual thoughts that I have, but then decided not to on account of the effects that would have.

Good ol' reason number 3: Typing it out, even in this ambiguous manner, does actually make it easier to cope with in my head.

Three's enough.

=END HYPOTHETICAL=


Speaking of the hypotheticals in 33. Did any of you notice how, over the next two weeklies, the hypothetical situations became reality? It's just like DC Comics and Kingdom Come!

What?

~

A few years back, Mark Waid and Alex Ross produced a four-part Elseworlds title called Kingdom Come. It was set in a future where the majority of Earth's population had become superheroes. Or at least super-powered beings. There were all the greats; Superman, Batman, er... Wonder Woman! Anyway, everything was extremely screwed up and dark and evil and most everyone who read it, loved it. Now DC Comics, they weren't too happy with this. A whole bunch of the characters they'd spent the last sixty years or so working on had been completely altered. And mostly for the evil. Something bad for superheroes (in their own opinion). So they made numerous statements to the effect that, "No, Kingdom Come will never become the 'real world' of the DC Universe."
    It's a few years later. What's happening? The history of Kingdom Come is becoming more and more the history of the DC Universe.

~

What was the point of all that (other than to demonstrate my ridiculous amount of knowledge about the comic book industry)? I dunno. Just seemed like something to write...

I haven't liked this weekly so far. I've written it in between 1:20pm and 2:45pm, because I don't know where anyone else is, and those that I do are elsewhere.

I've completely sidestepped the reason for writing it that I said in 35. That I was actually looking forward to saying before I realised the impact it would have.

I have nothing about which I feel passionate enough to rant about in great depth or verbosity.

Ensconced Vitriol!

Just a couple of words I knocked together yesterday, because I liked the sound.

Tubular Bells!

Another two.

Ian says that if I want to be happy I should find someone to love who loves me. Bollocks to that. Anyone who loves me as I currently am would have to be pretty fucked up.

Hey! See what I meant by my mind being fucked up, now? No, of course you don't... on account of my ambiguity. But at least you get a hint at my reasons for my thinking so. As opposed to what seemed irrational whinings before.

Thank you to Jenny for Planetary and Beautiful Girls.

Get round to printing bug, you lazy arse. That's for Ian.

Make a goddamn place on the school website for me to rant in! And use JavaScript to build your pages! That's to Robert.

Offer to take over the freaks webshite! All of you.

I realise that in 35 it may have seemed that I'd forgotten that all teenagers feel like shit and that my problems were all the same kind of puerile nonsense as the rest of you. I hadn't. I was just cutting loose to get back into the habit.

Goddamn I'm angry. With all the things that I've done that make me cringe. Why did I do them? What was I thinking?

See, whilst I know that everything that I'm going through has been, or will be, gone through by millions of others, that doesn't make it any less painful.

Just in case any of you thought I meant that.

The act of realisation doesn't do a damn thing.

Was talking to Richard earlier. About how self-obsessed, self-pitying weeklies can get muy boring, both to write and read. About how, if you want to maintain interest, it makes good sense to offer answers.

None.

Tim lent me a book. Which kind of helped, but only kind of.

I've argued that, if you ever feel like killing yourself, you should simply pack a bag, get some money, and buy a one-way ticket anywhere in the world (preferably far, far away). 'Cos there's a whole world out there that you haven't experienced yet. A whole world in which there exists the possibility for you to be truly happy. Most people don't bother with it; they settle for what they have or for what they can acquire through little effort. That's what I'm doing and what you're doing. And we do that because it's easier than living. But if you ever want to kill yourself, just remember that. That there's a chance out there. Fuck university. Fuck a good job. What's the use of these if all they do is allow you to continue living in a place that makes you sick in a style that's destroying your soul? Get rid if them. Running away is only a defeat if it's from something. If it's to something then you're far braver than most all the people in the world. What we have is a given. What we have we can envisage. We can feel and see and touch and taste and smell. What we don't have, we can only imagine. There's no guarantee. It most likely won't happen. It won't happen. But there's shit to be done.

I've got £120 together. I'm going to sell my comic collection for at least £500. I'm going to apply to university and get a student loan of a few thousand. I'll have at least £5000 by this time next year. Then I'm gone. And if I'm not? Then something seriously wrong or something seriously right will have happened.

Going to university to learn filmmaking? Bollocks! I want to tell stories? I need to live first!

I'll be 19.

A man.

I can fuck my own life up now.

I see people all around me who make me want to kill them.

So I have to get away before I do.

I can last another year.

Unless, as I say, things get seriously wrong.

Or seriously right.