3.
[ TAKEN FROM FOIA REQUEST #5501, PROP. OF LVPD]
“There are those who claim not to take a moral stance on the subject matter they cover, and who are very successful in their fields. This is because they are in immoral fields.”
∆•Δ Anonymous
To the DA(_) whom it concerns:
I didn’t want to be here.
I was born anyway.
What did I do?
What had I done in my previous life?
To come into this world so full of fear and rejection.
To inspire these feelings so strongly in others.
Who were my parents?
What was their combination that yielded such as me?
Δ
I don’t remember my earliest years but from what people tell me I was a terror,
a hard baby, full of colic.
I cried all the time and no one could soothe me.
While I sucked in as much life force as I could every chance I got, ravenously, mercilessly, I refused any true solace because I didn’t want to be here.
Never, anywhere I was.
Always looking at the clock ‘twas I, in the good times as well as the bad.
Couldn’t wait to get out of here.
(And go back where?)
Even when I got older, when I had the experience to know that things were different, that same, what I call, Sense of Defeat, stayed with me.
I had already fallen.
To be the Qing of This World?
I told myself to cheer up.
But I couldn’t even pretend to believe.
The truth is always the most obvious thing.
Δ
It’s there for all to see.
The bitterness stayed inside me, followed me around, was there to chastise me every time I had a pleasant thought.
Something always wanting to run away.
Always the Not Wanting the strongest most natural urge I had.
Even when I had cast aside all doubt, all morality, all circumstance, even then my physical body became my super-ego, betraying me constantly.
There was something inside me but the reality of my birth had put me in opposition to it at a cellular level.
I couldn’t will myself into another Me and eventually you just give in.
☻ ♔ ☹ ♛ ₢
Every time I relaxed, the rug was pulled out from under me at the last second.
Always a joke. Always a trick.
Played by who?
Looking back these moments seemed to occur solely to trick me, to make me think things might be different, only to pull the rug at the last second, at the very moment I relaxed.
It was a message sent by the universe telling me that I didn’t belong. But why? What had I done?
The Real World® was telling me I had to be a certain way. This is Your Life©.
ThisYet I could not accept the lot life had provided. It was too fucking terrible. It was the worst hell of all. It was dying to tell me that it was me who had to decide, never it, because it would fuck you and kill you in the most fucked up way imaginable,
a way designed just for you.
Your Life.
Δ
I was told that it was me who was the problem, that I viewed everything from too personal a lens.
I demanded too much of everyone I came in contact with. I essentially had no empathy.
But THEY WERE WRONG. I knew the truth.
Being an outcast gives you an amazing sensitivity and insight into the motivations of others AND WHAT IS THAT, BUT EMPATHY?
& believe it or not despite my natural inclinations I knew what it was to like to like something that other people liked, and how good it felt to like something in a communal way.
To be a part of something.
To share that like with others.
I experienced it early on and I thought everything would be fine.
I didn’t want to be an outcast, I would have been fine being average. But no matter how I tried to explain this to others BUT my very existence was always the strongest argument for the opposite position.
And people are so easy to shock. So easy to bore.
Too aggressive for the jocks. Too goth for the goths.
We can’t see ourselves when we speak to others. We only see through our own eyes.
I wanted my words and my actions to be judged, not my appearance.
Then I would pass by a mirror, or a twisted piece of metal,
or the dark pool of some pondscummed lake, and in its gnarled reflection
I would see a monster.
After the insanity of repeating the same mistakes for years I realized finally that I’d had it all wrong.
I figured people liked things the way I liked things, because of the way it made them feel.
But they didn't. They liked it for some unknown, unknowable, unspeakable reason.
A reason I wasn't allowed to know.
My way was perverse. Wrong.
To have your excitement, your creativity, your confidence, snuffed out like that...
It had to be on purpose, had to be an insult aimed at me personally for something that had happened, something I’d done (but what?) and yet when I dared mention it, I was always met with this amnesiac indifference like they didn't even know what I was talking about.
They’d never paid any attention or cared to begin with.
It was all me.
It was all in my head.
They didn't tell me this, of course, they expected me to know.
They'd have me believe that what I thought was divine connection was in the end laziness on their part and sentimentality on mine.
That’s all ☻.
Have you ever said hello to a friend or an acquaintance only for them to look at you with 1000% conviction like they’d never seen you before in their entire life?
Once I realized this, saw it clear as sunlight on a cloudless winter mourn, from then on I knew I would never be on the winning side again.
& to be on the opposite end of popular opinion every time, so naturally, so It wears on you.
There’s no momentum.
There was cause and effect before. Then something happened and everything lost meaning.
Wires were crossed and any logical connection was disrupted.
Every now and then I get some static, a jolt of electricity throughout my whole body, a faint noise coming from my stereo, but these are just ceaseless whispers that quickly fade away.
(I listen to another voice now.)
For no reason at all the people around me who I took for friends were pissing on the altar of our very connection, in favor of such garbage. And this wasn’t even the extreme stuff. How was I ever going to connect?
I would have to concede more and more of myself and it would never end. I realized this early on.
The cord was cut.
I was in this world.
So I stood still.
And watched the world drift away.
Δ
It was assumed I should accept this fate as an objective fact and if I complained or even politely pointed out the clear hypocrisy of the matter it was me who had sinned
and it’s so funny because I had to live each moment of every day in this place, being offended and disgraced and looked at like I was the worst kind of freak even by the freaks and the complete no accounts, the biggest dorks feeling sorry for me, making me sick, but they couldn’t even handle it for a second!
They had no idea what it was like to be me.
If they breathed the air at my level for even a second their lungs would burst into flames
and they would drown in fire.
[DOCUMENT ORIGINAL (MISSING) INCL. SIGNATURE IN BLOOD; SENT TO CL FOR BLOOD, DNA, FP. (NO MATCH)]3. [ TAKEN FROM FOIA REQUEST #5501, PROP. OF LVPD]
There's so much to dive into... but I have to get going.
