Trickmaster

Day One.

One bad day? Was that it?

You can never tell where it starts or ends.

Here I am listening to a track called "God Complex" while I type this. The next track in line is "Corrupted by Design".

I'm trying to figure out which of my memories are real. It doesn't matter. IT FUCKING DOES.

I know everything I remember on YouTube is being replaced by loads and loads of government workers to trick my mind into watching something they have planted, which they want me to see to dull my memories. The fuck? The fuck? Yeah that's what I'm saying. (Forgive me reader I fucking talk to myself. It's like I'm made of ghosts and reflexes, NO I'M FUCKING REAL.) I AM GOD.

All I wanted to do was find the tracks I remembered from my past, from before the asylum where the days blended together until I wasn't sure if it was a dream, I'M A SUPERVILLAIN, (yes shut up),

Words were meant to be my knife and here I am trying to sort myself out.

I feel like the tracks they've planted are like commentaries meant to either praise my ego or scare me I cannot tell I cannot really feel fear cos I don't allow myself to be WEAK WIMPY. Etc.

Right. Now I'm trying to get to the memory I wanted to show you, the reader, without getting distracted by all the noises I have around me and in my own mental confusion of thoughts and memories. I'M THE - right, yes, I said that probably. I keep getting these thoughts leaping out at me because I'm made of ghosts, no, I am a VIRUS UNDEF-

Ok. I need to find the memory. All I can think of are triggers that make me leap to reflex CAPSLOCK WORDS THAT I'M SHOWING YOU RIGHT NOOOOOOW.

You can tell I'm crazy.

Here's what's not:

(Okay I stuck on an earlier composition of my own to try and satiate the TRICKSTER impulses enough for me to type out my MEMORIES FOR YOU!!!! OOOOOOOOOOO 👻).

ENJOY!!!!

———

They told me that I have a mysterious mind. That they can't detect? My memories are fucking screwed. They told me that there's something hidden I have a mysterious aura?

I was in the hospital and they were trying to trick me into thinking that they were trying to zap my "soul" out. No such thing as soul, I mean what I am, the "virus". (Yeah they called me a virus).

I honestly think they can read my mind?

Nope, my fucking delusion.

It vexes me.

———

Right I'll stick more memories on other chapters otherwise this one will be too long.

All you need to know is that I'm a mental supervillain trying to fight government mind control. Probably wink wink.

(I just jumped cos it's like all my hearing went into one ear. And there's a high pitched ringing noise with some bass that made my own composition sound muffled and weird and like I was suddenly in a dream or something muffled. What the fuck? I don't know what is happening aside from: I'm trying to fight the fact that I'm crazy).

(The grass creaks outside and I automatically assume it's a government agent because I'm delusional.)

AHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAHAHAHA.

I think the birds talk to me! LMAO.

(Correction: Some of them).

Okay...

Don't worry, this will make sense eventually.

I tell myself.

HERESY is the first thing that came up when I was trying to type HERE'S A PEEK INTO MY MIND!!!! In the autocorrect.

I can't trust devils,

I mean - I can't trust devices, it autocorrected you.

(Yes, I am a self correcting virus, and the "you" here was the secret organisation telling me that they're angry with the virus's ability to heal.)

WHAT THE FUCK, I say in my head in time with the beats of my composition.

Sorry about that reader, that was my mind spiralling out of control again.

This will definitely make a lot of sense to you soon. Perhaps I will infect you.

👻

Now, I was in ROOM ONE, FLOOR ONE, of the Park Royal MENTAL ASYLUM, and that's PROOF THAT I'M A SUPERVILLAIN.

(^696 words, previously. I'm not a devil. Wink.)