DEMA

Redecorate

2nd of January, 3001
There was a wonderful structure to the city.
And it put my cares to rest.
Why do I kneel to these concepts?
Tempted by control, controlled by temptation.
'Stay low' they say.
Stay low.

Today I tried to clean my apartment.
I failed.
I went to the corner shop and bought a pre-cooked dinner.
I sat and ate it alone in my room.
These walls are my new prison, leaving them seems fruitless.
How weary, flat, stale and unprofitable seem to me all the uses of this world.
I am an evil person, who has done evil things.
Every night, before I go to bed, BlurryFace describes in great detail exactly how I killed the Banditos.
Exactly how I killed Josh Dun.
But last night, I got to see it with my own eyes.
He played me a slide-show, I got to re-live it all again.
He told me he plans on doing this every night from now on.

3rd of January, 3001
Taking inventory of his life.
Seeing snapshots chronologically in line.
Something told him he should look around and tidy up.
He collected many things but never quite enough.
Tried looking at it from a new perspective.
Flat on his back but he still heard the directive.
Orders from that corner where that shadow always lived.
Never asked permissions he just hopes that they forgive.

Maby if I write about myself from the third person everything will feel less real.
When I arrived in Dema first, I wanted nothing more then to wake up and find myself in Trench camp.
I no longer wish for that.
I want to get a job, the Unemployment sallery here isn't very high, and I want to buy new clothes.
But I don't know where to start, or if I even have the energy.
My days are spent locked away in my room, regretting everything I have ever done, regretting the fact that I was ever even born.
I wish I could just forget everything, or wake up as somone else, or go to sleep one night and never wake up at all.
I talk to BlurryFace when I am lonley, but he doesn't always listen.
He prefers to be the one talking.
I wish i could have even just one night where I stayed asleep.

4th of January, 3001
Blankets over mirrors, he tends to like it.
He's not afraid of his reflection.
But of what he might see behind it.
He had plans to change his name.
Just not the traditional way.
Haunted by a couple big mistakes.
He covers all the dents with the way he decorates.
Then one night he got cold with no blankets on his bed.
So he ripped them off the mirror, stepped back and he said...

I looked at myself in the mirror, all the black had faded from my hair, it was white again.
I got dressed up, it was a Sunday, time to go to church.
I was slightly disappointed that my number wasn't called out, part of me really wants to die.
Maby I should just do it myself.
After church I bought alcohol.
I had never had alcohol before, I never had anyone to drink it with.
But I don't need anyone to drink it with.
The spirits were warm and burning, and I drank slowly at first.
The more I drank, the more my problems seemed to shrink, clouded by a faint dizziness.
The more I drank the more I forgot who I was.
I sped up with every hour.
By the time morning came I had thrown up so many times I had lost count.
I promptly fell asleep after that, and I actually slept for the first time in over a month.

With the bells and the whistles scaled back.
Like an isolated track.
And he feels trapped when he's not inebriated.
Fair to say he's fairly sedated most days of the week.
He might have made it if he lived on a different street.
I repeat, scaled back and isolated.
He says he likes an open schedule but he mostly hates it.
If you run in to his room, take a breath before you break-in.
Put your ear up to the door, tell me can you hear him saying?
I don't want to go like this.
At least let me clean my room.
I don't want to leave like this.
'Cause the last thing I want to do is.
Make my people make decisions.
Wondering what to do, oh.
Should I keep it on display.
Or redecorate?