DEMA

Migraine

28th of February, 3001
Am I the only one I know?
Waging my wars behind my face and above my throat?
Shadows will scream that I'm alone.
Alone.

Spring hates Dema, it refuses to grace our walls, and instead the weather continues it's icy persistence.
I don't rembember who I used to be.
The memories of my time outside the walls are fading more and more every single day.
The old Clancy is Dead.
I don't even dream of the people I killed anymore.
I don't rembember their names.
The letters also lay forgotten, locked away.
Keons brings me on a walk every Sunday after church.
He soothes me, tries to heal the deep, dark suffering inside of me.
I wonder does he know that BlurryFace is part of me.
Without BlurryFace, there is no Clancy.
The fire inside me has finnaly been snuffed out.
I was starting to adjust, starting to forget, with the help of Keons, alcohol, and the cities structure.
Then another letter came in my door.
This one melted my brain like acid on plastic.
It read:

To refer to Dema as m[y] home has never felt accurate.
Dema, t[o] me, has simply been the place that I've existed, or, the 'slot' they've put me in.
I've heard stories abo[u]t the ide[a] of "home," and its depiction has always seemed warm f[r]om the storyt[e]llers's de[s]cription.
[T]here was a romant[i]c ownership of the p[l]ace they inhabited that I admired, but cou[l]d never relate to.
Thi[s] place, my p[l]ace, however, s[e]ems devoid of the romance and wond[e]r that the old stories tell.
But somewhere between the iron order and infallible [p]recis[i]on of Dema, a hum of wo[n]der exists.
It's this quiet wonder that my mind tends to [g]ets lost in.
This hope of discovery alone has birthed a new version of myself; A better version, I hope, that will find a way to experience what's beyond these colossal walls.
Singed, J,,,,

I stared at the letter for a long time, some of the letters had brackets around them.
A secret code?
I wrote them out, one by one.
"You are still sleeping"
I stared in wonder at the phrase.
I was brought straight back to the time I first encountered the Banditos.
They told me, "We were here the whole time, you were asleep... Time to wake up."
I had never understood what they meant by that.
And I still have no idea.

1st of March, 3001
I've got a migraine.
And my pain will range from up down and sideways.
Thank God it's Friday 'cause Fridays will always.
Be better than Sundays 'cause Sundays are my suicide days.
I don't know why they always seem so dismal.
Thunderstorms, cloud, snow and a slight drizzle.
Whether it's the weather or the letters by my bed.
Sometimes death seems better than the migraine in my head.
Let it be said what the headache represents.
It's me defending in suspense, it's me.
Suspended in a defenseless test.
Being tested by a ruthless examiner.
That's represented best by my depressing thoughts.
I do not have writer's block, my writer just hates the clock.
It will not let me sleep, I guess I'll sleep when I'm dead.
And sometimes death seems better than the migraine in my head.

That letter made me dream of Josh, all the memories of how I murdered him came flooding back.
It was the most tortoures night of my life.
I never knew which way was out, once it was on, it was on, and that was that.
The umbilicus was a faucet that fountained rabid blood, and I spun on my wheel like a laboratory rat.
I was an electrical storm on the bathroom floor, clutching the bowl.
My blood was full of gags and other people's diseases, and my monstrous little memory had swallowed me whole.
the urge to kill somebody was basically overwhelming.
I had such hard blues down there in the supermarket queues.
I had a sudden urge to become someone, someone who had started out with less than anyone I ever knew.
He walked shyly and softly to the hole to drink.
Come as far as the edge of my blood and then swim, and in the bathroom mirror I see me vomit in the sink.
And all through the house we hear the hyena's hymns.
Josh luaghs, we saw each other in half, and all the stars are splashed and splattered across the ceiling.
I wake up, I was dreaming, but the bathroom is still covered in blood and vomit.
"Don't you want to forget them all?" asked BlurryFace, diverting my eyes to a bottle of spirits.
I could never break the cycle, not like this.
I feel worse then ever before, death begging for me.
The pain and sickness that alcohol brings upon me is not worth it anymore.
I should just die.
If I want to do it, I should go to the store to buy some rope.
But I can't go out, not in this state.
I rip one of the bedsheets from my bed and tie it the ceiling to create a noose.
I welcome death like an old friend.

2nd of march, 3001
I am not as fine as I seem, pardon?
Me for yelling, I'm telling you green gardens.
Are not what's growing in my psyche, it's a different me.
A difficult beast feasting on burnt down trees.
Freeze frame please, let me paint a mental picture portrait.
Something you won't forget, it's all about my forehead.
And how it is a door that holds back contents.
That make Pandora's box contents look nonviolent.
Behind my eyelids are islands of violence.
My mind's shipwrecked, this is the only land my mind could.
Find, I did not know it was such a violent island.
Full of tidal waves, suicidal crazed lions.
They're trying to eat me, blood running down their chin.
And I know that I can fight or I can let the lion win.
I begin to assemble what weapons I can find.
'Cause sometimes to stay alive you gotta kill your mind.

Keons didn't need a key to enter my home.
He knew I was in danger.
He walked in, and the noose unwound, letting air fill my lungs again.
"Oh Clancy, what tortures you my young freind?" he asked, embracing me.
He was calm, soft, and healed all the painful thoughts that had been at the forefront of my mind only moments before.
"Keons..." I asked him, "can you... Are you able to... Make me forget things? I no longer wish to rembember my time outside the walls, it's far too painful."
"Alcohol won't solve your problems Clancy."
"That's not what I'm asking."
"It will kill you without warning."
"Please keons please make me forget!"
I begged him, falling to my knees and pleading repeatedly.
"It's for the best" he said, before placing too hands on the side of my face and closing his eyes.
My mind felt clean, refreshed, beautiful for a moment.
"thankyou!" I cried to him.
"It's not permanent Clancy, you need to learn how to deal with your past mistakes."
"I know-- I just-"
"There are teachings at church that can help you."
"Why are you helping me? What's in it for you?"
"Because I belive that nobody deserves to be treated the way that Nico treated you... And, I think, with the right teachings, you could do great things if you would work alongside us."
"I could work alongside you?"
"I'm still waiting for Nico to decide on an answer."
"I see."
"I care for you, my son."
"Were you there the day I was brought to Dema? Do you rembember anything about who I am? Where my name came from?"
"I cannot tell you."
"Then... Please leave."
"That is how you repay me for saving your life?"
"I didn't want you to save my life."
He left abruptly after I said that.
Blurryface left me alone that day, and my mind felt refreshed.
It was the first day in long time where I didn't drink, and I read over the letters from J,,,,
There might be hope in this world yet.

3rd of march, 3001
I will say that we should take a day to break away.
From all the pain our brain has made.
The game is not played alone.
And I will say that we should take a moment and hold it.
And keep it frozen and know that.
Life has a hopeful undertone.

Today the vulture that has lived in my roof the last few months mysteriously vanished.
He felt like a dark looming shadow.
I went to the supermarket to buy food, so I could cook.
I saw the girl who lives next door standing by the refrigerated section.
She looks at me as if she can see BlurryFace or something.
The citizens of Dema think Clancy is Dead, so she definitely doesn't know who I am.
Maby she's just odd.
Doesn't make her altogether too different from myself.

Am I the only one I know?
Waging my wars behind my face and above my throat?
Shadows will scream that I'm alone.
But I know we've made it this far, kid.