Apparently that part I wrote about not wanting to stop writing was so spot on I immediately wanted to start writing this post right after sending out the previous one. So, you want to know how you can become a PLAYER. I'm assuming you are wondering just how you can jump into this fast-paced life of terror and insanity with the rest of us, otherwise why would you be here (if you're here to laugh at me you might as well hit the follow button, it's only going to get worse from here).
In order to become a PLAYER, you need to have that special something that sets you apart from everyone else who is set upon by a towering no-faced man (DON'T LOOK). Something which lets you live to see tomorrow. I know it sounds cliche, but this kind of life isn't for everyone. There are people who tried to escape it, and failed miserably. I don't really have any truly special skills; I don't think having ADHD is a superpower, but in this particular case it might be keeping me sane. Or not. Based on what I know about my disability, I tend to not remember things I consider boring while I latch onto things I find truly interesting. Not things other people try to force me to like; I have to personally enjoy it a lot for it to get to the level where it's an addiction. At least that's what the nurse says.
In my mind, it's less a weapon and more a defense. See, if the guy (WHO ISN'T THERE) is only made stronger by thinking about him, I've got him beat... well, kinda. I mean, I still think of him (it (WHATEVER) ) on occasion, since it kind of hurts not to think of him after awhile. That's when it becomes really hard to sleep. I had one of those nights last night, as I previously mentioned. The 15th, when I started this blog, that was one of the larger spikes. One of the reasons I kept writing was when I did, the pain went away. I only just remembered how badly my head was pounding when I sat down to start writing. I'm feeling a lot better now. I wonder what might happen if I stopped writing altogether...
Owdamnownocrapubiyvfdjyhdsmvssssssssssssssssssssssd
OK, I'm leaving that in there. I don't remember hitting the keys exactly for them to make out "Ow damn ow no crap" and then spew gibberish, as much as I screamed "Ow damn ow no crap" while my head felt like someone blew a dog whistle tuned to a freuency the human ear could hear. People are looking at my funny in the library. I'm gonna cut this here and post then move somewhere else. Will write later. Maybe. Yes. I will. Damn.
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OK, I didn't post this yet because I had to close up and get out of the library. People were staring, and I didn't want to draw too much attention. Moved out to the courtyard to get some fresh air. Nice and calm out here.
Alright, so no quitting I guess. Looks like I'm sticking with this for the long haul. Great. Lovely. I wanted to do some writing awhile ago, and now I have a real purpose to do so. I'm leaving the top part unedited since I believe it should be preserved as it happened. It could be important.
11:20 AM. I wish I could type faster. Not out of fear, just because I type slow in general. I can never get what I'm thinking down fast enough when I use a pen or pencil, and typing seems to be a bit faster, but for some reason my fingers can never seem to keep up. I come up with something I want to write or say or do, and one second later, poof, it's gone.
Back on topic. Lesson one: Do you have that special something? It's not a skill. It's not a talent. It's will. Will is that defense which allows you to look into that nothingness, stare back at those whipping tendrils (ohgodicanseethem), and say no. You are not going to do this to me. I am not going to let you take my fears and use them against me. No. I am in control (onetwothree) and I will overcome this obstacle (onetwothree) and you are NOT going to hurt her AGAIN!
...Shouldn't have said taht. Nope. But I'm not going to censor myself, either. In the interest of preserving information which may beocme important someday, I will leave that unedited. It seems like he (they (IT?) ) wants it there. Maybe that is my special something. That I am unafraid of showing my true self now. In the past, I would have flipped my lid over those two typos, but here I am, J. Conners, not giving a damn about some squiggles. Mistakes happen. Sometimes you can't corect them. Sometimes...
sometimes you have to live with the choices you make.
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