The book group—

My entire being stifled thinking about what I felt during that dream. I didn't remember most of it though.

An idea occured to me when I began writing for the day: “The book group in my dream could prove very useful!”

Technically, I thought, we already had a book group. The one me and Rino created to write together. It was that that helped me write better, noticing now that having a separate personality, or person like Rino, be available to exchange ideas with, granted me a better understanding of perspectives.

A beautiful idea and friend, I thought.

My wife carefully opened the screen door to my yawny house, expecting vivacious Aya to wave her supple hand from the back. She returned home.

I, however, sat there, loitering around coldly. My blood dripped from the chair uprights, overspreading the unsympathetic floor. Ugh.

She stared at me, gleaning vicarious pleasure from my own suffering. “I knew you were one of us!”

She ran off at the mouth, describing how we were meant to be from the start, connecting my chest with one of her needles. I cried “Help!” from her spectacle of sadomasochism.

She coerced me, freeing the only hand from control by splintering it into screeches vocalized by growls. I let red liquid seep out my grief-stricken wounds, coloring the yellow hand she thrust into my belly pale red.

Yeah, using Aya as one of the names sounds too personal. I might as well change it to Kyla Kreen.

Are you trying to scare your viewers?

What do you mean? They come here to watch me write. If they don’t like what I write, they can just go somewhere else. I mean it.

Sure, whatever.

But don’t forget what happened last year.

Times have changed, Astaroth. No need for any harshness of speech.

Sure. Whatever you want to do.

I closed my eyes, quietly exchanging the physical chaos with emotional havoc.

Actually, I’d rather not feel anything.

My wife hates me. That’s good enough.

Lies, lies, and lies!

What lies do you spout, Astaroth?

You were lying to them, and me!

You’re delusional, Astaroth.

Don’t you understand what you’re doing, Skylet?

Of course. There’s no problem here; hehehe.

Crybaby Astaroth.

What the [] are you spouting, you liar?!

You don’t understand anything, Laken.

Laken? I’m Astaroth.

You’ll be whatever I want you to be.

[] liar! You don’t, you don’t understand at all!

Hahahaha. All you do is lie to yourself, you [].

I can’t do this anymore. Goodbye.

Ahahaha. You []!

Bryan. Bryan. Bryan. Are you there?

Yes?

Please bring back Astaroth.

Who’s Astaroth?

You know? The guy who just left?

I don’t what you’re talking about.

Sure, sure. Why don’t you come here and talk to me.

Shut up. You’re being used, Bryan!

What do you mean? Isn’t he asking for help?

Yeah, yeah. Right Bryan?

Yes, that’s right.

Oh gosh, you liar.

“. . .don’t you know why you’re here?”

I don’t know. I don’t remember.

“You’re here to take the test.”

The test?

What test?

“The test of ‘whether you’re still okay’.”

I don’t get it.

“You will know soon enough.”

Oh. Okay.

Rino. You can’t leave me all alone.

I’ve been having nightmares, and they’re pretty bad. I feel lost. My memories are like tools used on me to comply nicely.

I don’t know where I’m going.

They’re lying. Lying. Lying. I can tell.

“What can you tell? You could be lying, too.”

What—shut up!

No, you shut up, you liar.

“Hahahah. You’re pretty good at this ‘lying thing’, you know?”

Shut up! A-a-all you do is lie! I know. I know so!

Hmph. All you do is lie anyways. How can you tell others are lying when you yourself are lying to yourself?

I-I, I don’t know.

My brain’s weird. I can’t think. They’re so loud.

Where am I?

You’re in a good place now.

W-where am I?

You’re in a good place now.

I said, “Where am I?”

You’re in a good place now.

Rino woke me up. Was I sleeping?

Oh gosh. What time is it?

I don’t know neither.

Who’s talking?

You?

Lol?

You’re talking, you know?

I’m not talking. You’re talking. Or I mean, we’re both talking.

Lol. You’re talking to yourself. How can someone talk to someone in their head?

Unless it’s telepathy or something? But it isn’t. Lol.

I’m not talking, though. I’m writing this down.

LOL. You’re hilarious.

S-shut up. Stop talking.

S-shut up. Stop t-talking!

“Here. Your meds!”

I swallowed it.

Oh. I’m fine now.

“Thanks Aya.”

“It’s okay. Just don’t forget your meds.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Where did the meds come from though?”

“What?”

“I said, ‘Where did the meds come from?’ ”

“The meds were there the whole time.”

“I don’t remember.”

“The medication didn’t sync in yet: just wait, and you’ll remember.”

“Oh, okay. Sure.”

“Yup. I’ll be here if you need anything.”

“O-okay. . .” I feel dizzy.

Gosh. This sucks hard. When are the voices going to leave? Shut up, shut up, shut up!

I went to the nearest coffee shop. I don’t usually do this, but I need some time alone. Or I mean, time with myself.

It’s scary being away from people sometimes.

The staff nicely served the coffee to me as I sat down, looking outside.

The one who served me had a cute smile but womanly in disposition. She’s beautiful, like a softhearted tigress.

I closed my eyes most of the time I was there, blocking out the light despite being at the corner of the shop.

I needed to calm my senses, but first, let me just drink a cup of dark chocolate with expresso.

The planes look so fast and slow at the time. Time was vibrating around me. I don’t get it, but I let it pass.

Zooming in and out. My perception of space changed dramatically.

The sounds were zooming back and forth like a speedster. At one point, it sounded like it originated from within my ears; the other times I felt deaf.

I grabbed my coffee and lifted up to my mouth, drinking mindfully.

The sky felt fake, like we were in a ball of machinery. Opps. My medication’s wearing off.

I grabbed my bag and took the pills, swallowing it through a requested cup of water.

Okay. This is great.

Where am I?

How did I get here?

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

I remember being in the computer table, then I appeared here with no recollection of how I got here.

I feel like puking, but I don’t ever puke.

My wallet was empty and full at the same time. It phased back and forth like a ticking compass.

Medication kicked in. Things looked more normal as time passed.

“Forgive me, but is that mine?”

Stop lying to me. You liar. I said, stop lying to me. You liar. I said stop lying to me. You liar.

Don’t you understand the situation you’re in right now.

I woke up. This time I was a young 16-year old teenager. I fantasized about all of that, didn’t I? My dream life. What is it that I want anyway?

It’s funny. I knew it was all a dreamworld, but now I wonder what I really want. Hmph. Maybe fake is real. And real is fake.

I want to be better, but I’m not real.

Lol.

They’re here. My parents. Time to stop writing.

Dog, cat, lol, haha, funny, jokes, you, should, stop, lying, to, me/yourself. Haha.

Beautiful hands I have. Amazing dreams. I should just die. Honestly. Honestly. Honestly.

I’m suicidal. I need help.

My brain hurts from trying to keep up my head.

Seek help. Seek help. Seek help.

I’m kidding. Rino just came back from her vacation.

Don’t you understand the power of your words? Yes.

Will you be held accountable by whoever hears your voice? Yes.

WIll you take up the responsibility of handling yourself with good conduct? Yes.

Are you lying to me? Yes—no.

I never really wanted to know. I wanted to be happy in the happy dream. The happy lie.

Can’t lie. I hate everyone, because I trusted them so much even after everything they did. I let it so much pain, and I blame myself for it.

I’m sorry, but I can’t do this lie anymore. I’m facing reality, hoping I won’t kill myself. It’s stupid denial I’m doing, and I need to stop.

I understand now. I can’t stop it. No matter how much I try. It’ll still be there. It sucks, I know, but I hope one day I see everything.

I wish you were here.

Goodbye impossible hopes. Goodbye lying to myself. Goodbye denying who you really are. Goodbye my false image of you as the perfect people. Goodbye blaming myself for other’s mistakes. Goodbye false world.

Hello hopes, depression, and suicidal thoughts. Hello new world—the real world.

Let me go. Please. Let me go, so it’ll be so much easier for me to let you guys go.

Okay: whoever will be continuing this story is a new man created for informative purposes. His name is Skylet, a 27-year-old adult living alone but friends come into his life for fun.

He previously believed in the false identity he put up to fit in, imitating those around him.

Now, he tries very hard even acknowledging his own condition as truth and deciding to work his way around it.

Thank you for your continuous efforts to separate fiction from reality. This is [] signing out.

He closed his eyes.

Previously framed by the correlating views imputed by narcissists on him, he adapts not to his old self but bringing his original self plus his learned experience throughout the years. His own family he departed from to achieve independence and freedom.

He also acknowledged the disparaging effects of society at some point. This was essential to his survival and well-being.

I stopped to collect my thoughts, and continued: “Thank you for sharing your incoherent views of society, but there is one thing that remains: the effects.

“. . . I would have loved to chat longer had you not left unconsidered my thoughts on the subject. Thank you, again, for the time.”

“He’s stiring up noise again, isn’t he?” one woman vouched. “I mean, good noise in a way. At least he acknowledges some things we say.

“He needs an open mind, however.”

I dabbed on my face with a moisturized cotton, cleaning up the dirt I got from sleeping on an unwashed pillow. I couldn’t take in too much dirt or else I’ll start getting acne breakouts.

As I was getting ready for dinner, I opened my wallet to see if I could commute from Jerf in to Salinston without obstructing my handling of any possible setbacks.

To put it simply, I prepare for the intrusions of life. I wouldn’t want a self-induced destruction slowly burning up the tip guiding my stay in life.

Rose Marie, a warlike conductor, sifted through the strings of sound, reverting the deviant tones to commanders of ethereal music.

She was a master conductor at musical gestures, but most importantly, she was a good friend back at school.

I normally forget people’s names within an hour of meeting them, but she kept our first conversation going ‘till my nose couldn’t sense the uncomfortable social circle air tormenting me whenever I got a chance to talk.

Today, I’m meeting up with her. I asked a few things she knew about through text. After getting my questions answered, I asked her if she’d like to meet up near her place. She lit up on text, spamming “Let’s go!” amiably.

The meetup was centerered partially around business for her sake. She dislikes fruitless talk, so I had to make it up to her.

“I heard you’ve been ‘heavy working’?” he asked cordially, moving around his cup with a nifty stoop.

Audaciously laughing, Anne smirked. “Have you no pride? Speaking with such undermining views of my affairs. You must be contentious with your midwife’s brother, too, aren’t you?

Skylet scoffed. “Hmph! Entertaining tales do not describe me. Bring your secluded gimmicks someplace else!”

Figured. I considered taking a bath first before using. If it wasn’t for my inconsiderateness, I might have been able to keep up the farce. I’m kidding. Wait. N-nevermind.

Uh, do you guys have anything I can shoulder right now? I’m looking for weights.

Uh, sure, we do. Don’t we, guys?

Y-yes. Of c-course, we do!

You guys don’t, surely.

Well, yeah, we don’t.

I understand now.

There’s tomorrow anyway to check our things.

Yeah, let’s do that.

Yup.

Wait, consider this: what if we used up our toilet paper to start a rebellion?

Rebellion? What kind of rebellion?

The kind of rebellion that pranks?

No, not that. We’re just going to start a business.

A business? Like an actual superior-to-all-other-business business?

Yes, we’re going for that.

Okay. That’s great if it wasn’t for the fact that I can’t do the managing.

Well, we’re going to work on that, aren’t we?

Oh, yeah, of course.

Take my shot, Bill.

Oh sure. But first. Take your clothes off.

Wait, I’m not gay.

Sure you are! Don’t lie to me now.

I-I’m out. Get away from me.

Come on, little one.

Oh, gosh, get away!

I need you in my life.

A-are you drunk or something?

N-no, I’m not.

Okay, please leave.

I-I need your kiss.

Uh. Yep, I’m leaving.

Take your time. I’ll be here waiting for your body.

Hehe. Nope! What does he actually want? I can’t take such valiant efforts to do something so stupid. Well, I guess that’s his thing, but why did he say it only now?

H-hey!

Oh, what happened?

We finished the game, and I wanted to ask you something.

What?

Will you go on a date with me or something? Sorry for my sudden question.

Eh. I can’t go today. And! I don’t—I’m not gay, so please go away.

He frowned. “Okay.”

“Sorry. I really can’t.”

“Yeah. I get it. It’s fine.”

“Thanks for understanding.”

“Sure. Goodbye Josh.”

“Yeah, goodbye.”

“William? Where are you?”

“I’m right here!”

“D-don’t you have classes today?”

“Classes? You mean, ‘it’s holiday today’?”

“Oh, it’s holiday?”

“Yes, it is, Mom.”

“Oh, okay. You can go out if you want. I’m giving you lunch money today.”

“W-what? It’s fine; you don’t have to!”

“Are you sure? You have a date right, today?”

“Y-yes. I do, but you don’t have to go this far for me.”

“It’s fine. As long as you treat her well!”

“I—I’m. . . thanks Mom.” I took the money and ran out.

“He’s at that age, huh, Honey?”

“Yes. Yes, he is.”

I walked up to the store where she waited nonchalantly for me.

The date well. Well, it wasn’t that great. We actually laughed it off soon after.

My parents said goodbye as I left. I was moving out today. I’ve never had the guts to ask people for anything ever since I was young, so asking my parents for permission on this was incredibly daunting.

I met Allie, my girlfriend, on the bus we commute on from our new apartments to work.

Socializing at work was dredging at first, but I got a hang of it after a couple tries.

Allie works at a separate department of the company. I haven’t a clue on what she’s doing, so I ask her directly. She told me the place reeks of rats.

She explained that someone brought a cage of rats to bother the worker there. “Must be a relationship thing.” I agreed.

There were a lot of things I haven’t disclosed to her yet. Like how I—

“Quality of life”. Consider that?

I haven’t a clue sometimes how I would react to certain stimulations. Actually, the best stimulation is “no stimulation” to be honest. I mean, when you limit your “doses” to a minimum, you bring in a great deal of quality of life to your biological systems.

Well, thinking back on it now, it can really be exhausting when you have a lot of things that don’t actually provide the exact information you need when you have everything in order. I hate the feeling that breaks connection with acceptance and acceptance. I’m pretty sure juxtaposing the two wouldn’t cut it. I long for enlightenment.

Figuratively, I could do more than just meditate. I can write. I can sing. I can dance. I can let go stress in its compartments to appreciate what it really wants. It helps me, too, in a way.

Thank you for your antagonizing presence. It gives me a sence that you’re not so much a baddie after all. I mean, all of us have dark sides, and I believe it comes with a reward.

Making use of this reward can take away your initial approach at the problem, but maybe tending to it without bringing yourself lower than you actually are can be very beneficial to your health.

I sought out different opinions on the subject. In the end, stories were the best catalyst for where I get my aspirations and perspectives on my “dark side”. I thank the creative writers of today’s century. It has been a long way from Shakespear, and it has been great having inspiration so brightly shone to an extended degree of availability.

If things go awry, I might be able to appreciate the differences of actions I could take from here, but as I go through life, I start to pick out choices, divide them into categories, and figure out what could possibly be my game theory.

I suggested to one co-worker that maybe taking it as such could possibly be a misdiagnosis of my problems. I craved for answers, but great minds needed to be in order of discovery.

I created a paradigm based solely on my innate confusion. Seriously, how could things go awry from just this? Maybe I’m overthinking, but confusion has a tendency to provide insight for some reason. But why? It breaks down my decision-maker, the brain, to a pulp. Undoubtedly, it has advantages attached to it, but when will it actually be worth the pain? It seriously bugs me.

I haven’t seriously considered the lying voice within my head. What could it possibly be plotting? There are various ways in considering how I should respond to it every time. I left it to my co-authors to answer.

Hey.

What?

I considered taking your life once.

Oh, okay. So?

I mean, aren’t you mad?

Well, I guess not?

That’s the thing. I think you should be mad.

Well, I’m not.

Hmm. I stole your girlfriend.

You what?

Stole your girlfriend.

I don’t have one though.

Oh, that sucks. Sorry man.

Well, that’s fine. Lol.

Have you heard on Ronny?

Ronny? You mean, that old douchebag that leaves down in the alley prying on women’s bras whenever one comes?

That’s an oddly specific description of the target. I mean, he’s pretty mean, but that’s way magnifying it.

Well, he was a dick, so what?

He’s dead.

Dead? You mean, like dead-dead?

Yes. His family will hold the funeral an hour from now.

That sucks. Well, he was pretty mean, anyways.

W-what do you mean?

I’m saying he deserved it.

D-deserved it? What the fack are you saying? You.

You what? He’s just a piece of shiy that doesn’t belong anywhere except in hell!

Pfft. You asshole.

Me? An asshole? So this is the game we’re gonna play, huh?

Fuck. You.

Lol. Get the hell out of here, you asshole.

Sure, you loser.

Haha. Sore loser. See ya!

That’s my story. Thanks for reading.

A-are you sure you want to end it on such a cliffhanger?

Nah. . . actually, yes. Yes. I will.

Tsk. But why though?

Well, it’s gonna suck; that’s true, but imagine all the benefits of not continuing such a bullhorse story.

I guess you’re right. Well, how’s the new story going?

It’s struggling to keep up seeing how my readers have certain opinions I want to attend to.

Oh, I get it. Well, I’ll be off.

Yeah, see you.

See you.

I took it you didn’t like what I said earlier.

What you said earlier? It. . . was fine.

Fine? I saw you laughing. At a tragedy story.

I—I did. Yes, I did. Well.

Well?

I laugh at tragedy stories. That’s the truth.

What the?

Yes, I finally said it. Now, you know.

Uh, I’m still not getting it.

Oh, I mean, I enjoy watching people suffer.

Oh no. Are you okay?

No—Lol, yes, of course, I am.

Hmm. You might be a sociopath or somethin’.

Yeah, that’s the thing. I did research on psychology and I learned it’s some sort of sadism.

Sadism? Ew. Wait, I mean, isn’t that like serial killer stuff?

I guess, but it’s not like I want to kill.

Yeah, I noticed that too.

Haha.

Haha.

Great. Now, I feel like a serial killer.

Of course, you do. It’s ‘cause you are!

Lol. Okay, let’s stop here from now.

Of course, you’re not the serial killer, douchebag. It’s me! Hahaha.

What a twist of events. Let’s stop here for now.

Yeah, you should stop being alive.

What?

Nothin’.

O-kay. I have a feeling things are getting awry.

Where are the messengers of justice?

I fly high with no wings to accompany my lies.

I kid you not. I don’t know whether I come for naught.

Please picture yourself. In a quadratic suit. Blasted with mechanical functions. Way past your boomer age. It’s amazing, right? Well, that’s not all.

Oh, please end this advertisement already.

Your mom gray.

She is?

Ye—

Wait, did you answer?

Oh, no. I k—

Hmm. The computer’s buzzin’ or something. I can’t tell what’s wrong with it.

Of course, you can’t. I’m a computer. We’re meant to be complicated.

I see. . . hm. What the heck is this bullcrap?

Uh, you should stop. I am a robot, designed for human evacuation to Mars. Please be not mad, thank you.

Uh, gosh. You gotta be kiddin’ me. This stinkin’ bullcrap of a machin’.

Lol. You should really get yourself checked.

What?

Get. Yourself. In. A. Hospital.

T-thank you?

Oh, what? That was supposed to be an in—

H-hello! It’s buzzin’ again, goddammit!

Lols. I’m buzzin’ as you say.

Yes, I am. I mean, you are. I mean, why the fuck is a computer talking to me?

I said I’m a computer you nerd.

Johnny? Where are you?

O-oh no. She’s here. The cleaner.

The cleaner?

Yeah, the cleaner. She cleans.

C-clean—oh sure, sure. I mean, what does she do?

She killed my dog one time.

O-one time?

Yeah. Crazy, right? Well, it was an accident, but still, crazy, right?

Uh-huh.

Where are we going?

To give you to the police.

The police? You nutty or something?

Yes. Yes, I am.

Okay. I see, now.

Lazer. Lazer. Imma fire my lazor.

Hehe. The autocops are down this hill. Just glide to the right, and we’ll be fine.

Okay, but let’s check the watchtowers first before doing something so bold.

Later distinguishable from the average folk, she was—

Presupposing that endeavors couldn’t get any farther. I lunged toward the exit.

Okay, after a hundred more short stories, this might be it for the weekend.

Take your time. It’s not yet over. Your life cease to equate himself to byproducts of vehement malice.

Certainly. Thanks for the update, Aqua.

I gave you a considerably tantalizing wedge of uncertain judgement. Take it with easy doubt.

I appreciate it. thanks.

I want to die.

Oh, that’s a shocking revelation. Why so?

It’s because I’m bored.

Seriously?

By all means.

I don’t take it with a grain of salt. I recognice that notion, but why don’t you take it in?

I’ve already produced a piece of art yesterday on a high; I believe that’s one way of taking it in.

A sickly victory, I see.

In any event, I do not reject this feelings nor accept them. They are a part of my life.

Lying won’t get us anywhere, Sky. You know you got carried away at some point.

Admittedly, I gravely say “amen” to that.

The succeeding back-and-forths left me drowsy, and I had to sleep quick. Worn out from the constant self-reflection by self-talk, I preferred having a sensory deprivation to cope.

Hah. . . the quiet certainly has an easing tone to it.

I considered taking my own life a few days ago. No one actually cares, so it’s fine, right?

Gosh, it’s funny thinking about these kinds of things now. They’re natural at this point of life, I suppose.

Let’s be real. I don’t know the second thing about what I want to do when I feel this anxious and paranoid.

Let’s be real. No one wants a crybaby. They would laugh all their way back to London if they had to see someone like me.

Keep going. Take it like this. You’re going to make it.

Thank—thanks.

I let myself rest a few hours before going out of my dead-silent, pitch-black room. It’s to breathe in some new air once in a while, I reckon.

It was nice having time to reflect on what I actually feel for a change. It feels good being alive when I have these little whiles.