The spiral. The bottom

(before i continue with this post i want people to understand something. call this a disclaimer or anything you want, but the one thing this is not is a cry for help. if anything, the instance mentioned below has nothing to do with depression, loneliness or anything anyone can help me with, but merely an instance, a moment wherein i saw my nadir. don't think you can help, you can't. its me, i love it and if i didn't want you to read it, i wouldn't have posted it here. so if you think you care, if you think i need help, fuck you, fuck the horse you rode in on and go remove your cerebral cortex because you ain't using it properly. )

Last night i did the usual tuesday night thing; doors. i went i saw i conquered, woohoo. the night was one of those ones filled with small shiny bits that never seemed to epitomise the moments that make a great night. but it was good enough. fun, great people, less of a headache in the morning, and no back aches, not a bad trade.
But i just didn't seem to be feeling it fully. I had no real feeling of escapism. comfortable liar played, and i went absolutely mad. i remember it playing, i remember the ecstasy that seemed to flow through me, then i remember that i had drifted away from the group i was with, but it didn't seem to matter. Maybe thats what made last night different; the fact that i didn't need to feed off of anyone as per usual. And, forgive me for changing what i wrote earlier, but i did find escapism; absolute and singular. And there is where the danger lay.

It wasn't late, and i returned home as calmly as normal, a bit aggravated that it was another night of being alone, and it was when i walked into my room that the thought hit me. If there had been no flaw to the command it gave me, i would not be here today; and to tell you the truth, i don't think it would have mattered. At least not to me.

It went pretty much along the lines of "Put a gun to your head, snap the safety off and pull the trigger." The only problem was, i didn't have a gun. Knives, swords, shurikens and throwing star, yes; but no guns.
and if the formula is not complete, the equation doesn't balance. there's no substitution, no remainder, just absolute singularity.

So i shrugged my shoulders, changed, and fell onto my bed, lapsing into dreams of Twisted Transistor in the background and too many people in the foreground.

I realize that to some this may seem like a selfish move, that although a lot may depend on me, the only thing now that has a chance of decrepifying without me is OUTculture magazine. i've left enough relays, outposts and back-up systems lying around to let anyone of my staff take over from me, and every other case of dependancy has been dealt with in the same fashion. I've made the lattice that will fall into place if i happen to leave this realm, so why in all hell should i not have free reign to say when i choose to do so. Everyone in my life may care, but do they need me? i am the negotiable card, i am not a necessity and so therefore will nevfer be one.

And that, my dear friends, is free of selfishness, free of reliability and free of dedication to a cause that is not my own. my causes will exist without me, i have made them so, my will will still remain.

That, this absolute singularity, is freedom....

(no you pillocks, i am not going to off myself anytime soon, and you can't have my job. i am still the Arturius of OUTculture, and will see it to the end, God willing)