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Alex's Asylum
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So, you actually want to get a feel for who I am? You're an idiot. But hey, idiots will take over the world. And when it happens, remember you heard it from me first.
What's your name?
Come on. Are you really that stupid? It's called Alex's Asylum for a reason, nitwit.
Where are you from?
A nice little place I like to call Earth. Really, you should come visit some time. It's quite nice.
How old are you?
I hate nothing more than when people judge me by my age. But we'll play it your way. I'm between 13 and 16. Yeah, I'm not one to give blatant answers in case you haven't figured it out.
What first inspired you to write?
My first book was a little thing I wrote in second grade called An Elephant Named Stinky. Don't comment. I never really wrote much until my family got a computer in fourth grade. I started a chapter series that involved all of my peers in a melodramatic recess type thing which was a war. Everybody got weapons like dodgeballs, jump ropes, hockey sticks, etc. It was interesting. I've been writing ever since.
What inspires you to write now?
It depends on what I want to write. If I'm feeling a suspense, depression, or whatever story boiling, I go watch an Anime like Serial Experiments Lain. If I want to write something a little more light hearted, I go and inhale some peanut butter and sugar.
Name one word that describes yourself.
Hmm. Toughy. Either 'sacrastic' or 'pyromaniac'. Take your pick.
Is it true you've set a taco on fire in the microwave?
Why does everybody ask me this? But, yeah, it's the honest to Greg truth. I set a taco on fire in he microwave...when I was six...with a babysitter. It has two holes in it to this day.
Any other near death experiences?
Loads. I once nearly chopped my finger completely off with a razor blade when making a bottle rocket. That was the rocket I nearly blew my arm off with as well...
Who do you look up to in life?
Oh quite a lot of people. I'm relatively short.
Any hobbies besides writing?
Oh, you know, the usual. Finding new ways to get out of straight jackets, frying my eyeballs by playing videogames, setting the living room couch on fire, beating the snot outta my drums, blaring my Japanese music, watching Anime, and being an all-around menace to society.
Any other interesting facts?
I'm a soon-to-be drummer of a band, I have a pet snake named Trogdor the Burninator, A Lord of the Rings geek, an internet addict, and a complete arsehole when I really want to be.
You don't seem to have much writing posted on this site.
I had loads more on my Tripod site, but they unfortunately banned me for reasons still unknown. Stupid hackers. Anyway, Freewebs only allows so much content. I'll try and see if I can weasel in a little more in the coming weeks.
I found a grammer/spelling mistake in your writing!
Okay a.) I don't really give a crap, B.) It's spelled grammar you incompetent frogwalloper, and C.) I don't really give a crap. Capiche?
Your writing sucks.
Hey, if the world didn't suck, we'd all be floating off.
Nice.
I try.
Got a question or comment? Poetry/song/story requests? Say so in my Guestbook! Or E-mail me at potionmaker@msn.com
You can also check out my Livejournal at http://www.livejournal.com/users/dark_talisman/
I am somebody who has two main personas. One is insane and weird, trying to live life to its fullest. A person people can laugh with but never truly get to understand. The other is deeper and more philosophical, yet I try to hide this side. I try to hide a lot of myself. Whenever I'm angry, I smile, whenever I'm sad, I laugh. I can't let people see I'm hurt. I can't let them see I'm distressed. I can't let them see. I've always hid my feelings. I've always hid my lusts. Nobody has seen me cry…in fact, I don't even remember the last time I have cried. Is this scary? I find it to be.
I'm like a chameleon, always trying to blend in with the scenery. I just want to press my body up against a wall and watch as others pass me by, never noticing. I want them to understand that I'm invisible. This side wants me to camouflage myself and take to hiding. Just run away. Run away from everything. It would be so much simpler. Yet, the other side wants me to be in the spotlight, wants me to be known. Wants everybody to know my name.
Alex
My name is Alex.
Do you know that?
I disguise myself with so many masks. Has anybody ever seen the true me? Do I have a true me? Have I even seen the true me? How funny is that, not even knowing the real me. It's like I've gotten so used to pretending, that I don't even know reality from imagination. Is there even a difference? Maybe I'm simply here, placing virtual things in a real live world. But now the question is, which world is real?
My world
This is my world.
Do you know that?
People look at me from a variety of perspectives, judging me on the stupid things. I try to pretend I don't notice, force myself to believe I don't care. Wouldn't it be nice if we didn't have to worry about all the pressure in the world? Wouldn't it be nice to feel comfortable being ourselves? But our society has been too blind to the true beauty of people. We classify beauty as our genetic make-up, how we dress, what style of hair we have. Isn't there something deeper? Doesn't beauty have more to do with confidence? If you're beautiful, it's because you believe you are. And you want to know the harsh reality? It's because of our judgments on "beauty" that Earth isn't safe. Nowhere is it safe.
Am I beautiful?
I wouldn't know.
I don't even know myself.
And you want to know the sad, sad truth? I don't think anybody rightly knows who they truly are. Maybe everybody is just like me, with so many masks and so many different costumes. Is it even possible to take off our disguises and see the true us? Maybe. But if it is possible then it's most likely far too difficult for anybody to attempt.
Will I ever see the true me?
Maybe.
Will you ever see the true me?
Maybe.
Will either of us ever understand the true me?
No.
I'm laughing, but I want to cry. Why can't I weep? It disturbs me how I can't let myself feel the way I know I need to. It frightens me how easy it could be for somebody to take advantage over me because of this. I'm afraid that if I just keep bottling up this emotion, one day I'll explode. What then? What then?
A tear.
Oh yeah, I've heard of those.
What are they again?
Is it so bad that I want to cry? I want to slam my fist in the wall and listen to the cracking of my fingers as they each brake. I want to get so enraged that my nose bleeds and feel the thick, warm liquid flow across my face. I want to touch the flame and smell the burning of my own flesh. Is it so bad that I want to cry?
Can anybody hear me?
Can anybody see me?
All I really want…is somebody.
Can it only feel good when it hurts? Is that the way life works? I wouldn't know. I don't seem to know much. So many questions. Is it just an endless display of inquiries? Will there ever be an answer?
Do you know the answer?
I don't.
I don't even know the question.
Has it ever occurred to you why we're even here? If God—if there even is a God—put us here, then why? What good are we to him? I feel as if I'm a lab rat—a guinea pig—just part of some twisted experiment. I have read Genesis. Isn't it strange how it goes into great detail of how God created everything yet it fails to exactly mention why? Why? Not everybody was born for a purpose. Not everybody is going to make a difference. So what's the point? Why so many unanswered questions?
I only want to know.
Don't you?
Or is it that I'm the only one without the answer?
kaze ha tomari kotoba ha
yasashii maboroshi
kumo ha yabure ashita ha
tooku no koe
tsuki ga nijimu kagmi wo
nagareta kokoro
hoshi ga yurete koboreta
kakusenai namida
Why do people continue to pretend that this world has a future? Why do they continue to create a perfect life? It won't happen. It never will. We all will suffer at one time or another, guaranteed. It's harsh, but it's the truth. Why won't anybody expose me to the truth? You're too young to understand. Don't worry about it. It's nothing…really. I want to know. Let me know the horrors of this sick and twisted world. I know not all of it is good. I know that already. So why can't I know?
But that's the thing: nobody even knows. Why? We're too afraid. Don't let us into this new philosophy that things aren't like we portray them. We're too afraid. Don't expose us to the truth. Yet, somehow we still manage in this world without the truth. Clinging on to some make-believe possibility, we don't have to worry about silly things like the truth.
"It's wisdom to recognize necessity, when all other courses have been weighed, though as folly it may appear to those who cling to false hope."
~Elrond
J.R.R Tolkien's Lord of the Rings
Maybe I'll just continue shielding my mind to the truth. We'll all just keep on blocking out the horrific images. We don't need to be pained. Life is already too short.
I just want to cry.
Is it so bad that I want to cry?
Go away. Let me weep with dry tears.
I don't feel like anybody. I'm like a shadow, following others and their orders. Does anybody ever get annoyed with their shadow? Should I stop following them? When a shadow quits following its owner, it becomes nothing but blackness. Am I nothingness? Possibly. But only because I choose to be nothingness. Why can't I just be like everybody else? Why? Why?
What's my name again?
Thou who steals any of thy works shalt pay for thy Olde English lessons. © 2003 All rights reserved
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