Chris I

Hello.

I know you’re watching me. You’ve been watching us. Judging us, maybe even laughing at us. But I’m the one who’s watching you; laying on your bed and reading into my thoughts. Or perhaps on a chair staring at a computer screen. One must ask what you’re doing in your life? Ask yourself, why are you subconsciously wasting it, letting it slip by. Have you ever had a thought that was your own and not one influenced by others? Why do you keep yourself in such a negative headspace? I see you, but I cannot read you and that frustrates me. But don’t let my questions get in your head. I don’t mean any ill will and by any means would want to exacerbate anything that might be going on in your life right now.

I’m just curious.

See, I wasn’t born right in the head. Ever since I can remember I’ve had this itch to find out everything I could possibly know. This made me feel weird, isolated and detached. It’s hard for me to make friends, let alone talk to people. They don’t understand me.

I don’t understand me.

Once when I was a child I let out a thought that put concern on my parents. I was taken to a psychiatrist where I was deemed a prodigal savant. Surely this was a blessing on any parent but they were also told I was on the spectrum. They were told I wouldn’t be able to connect to other humans and could never understand them emotionally.

The sadness my parents expressed that day was the first time I felt anything.

My parents wanted me to be this prodigy who advanced through life at an early age. I just wanted to have a normal life, to be a normal boy. I would always see how much fun all the other kids were having at recess while I was stuck in the corner observing the patterns of all the clouds. That was envy.

That’s when I made my first friend, Cody. He didn’t care that I hardly moved or talked, he just stuck to me, then eventually, Emily did too. Because of these two, I was able to convince my parents to let me live a normal life.

So I hid.

Now my mother is in the kitchen making a phone call to her business to get a logistical issue sorted out. My father is sitting on the reclining chair watching ‘Altered States’ with me. We live in a two-story house with a basement that my father uses as a home theatre. The two make good money although they’re hardly ever home. It’s not a loving family, but I’m okay with that.

Still, they’re good people who tried their best.

What about you? How is your relationship with your parents? I hope it’s well but statistically speaking that isn’t the case. We get so caught up in our own lives and we get used to them so much that we forget they’re people too. They have thoughts and emotions and we often take them for granted. We like to blame them for messing us up but we don’t stop and think about how it affects them as well. Sure you got your outliers who are just shitty parents for the sake of shitty parents but I’m not talking about them. It’s important to have a good relationship with the people that gave birth to you, it builds the foundation for all your future relationships. One of the common denominators of Darkwood is the lack of involved parents. Over half of them work in Seattle and usually spend some nights there. It makes Darkwood an exceptionally good place to get fucked up.

See this is the downside of being on the inside while trying to look out. Think of it as living in a box with no windows, doors, no exit. Not even an ounce of a hint that there is anything outside, yet I still try to look outside of it. But you can, because you’re outside my box and can look it. You have the right models and tools to measure and understand this box. You’re the observer.

This is the universe.

This is the easiest way I can explain it.

Yet it doesn’t solve my issue of trying to understand what I am. A lot of the time I don’t feel human and an unknown force is pulling me towards places that shouldn’t exist. Towards people that shouldn’t exist. And out of everything I have seen and observed all I can think about is: Ellie wasn’t supposed to die that night.

And yet here you are, friend. You want to know about it too. You have been observing us all this time and want that closure, the same as we do. Emily blames the jealousy, Sara blames herself for ignoring the cries for help, Andrew thinks it was him and acts like he doesn’t care, and Cody blames himself for being such a headfuck towards her.

And I just watched it all happen, didn’t do a thing.

I was there when she was drunkenly pulled the gun out of her purse for just a single second as if she remember she had it. I understood what she was going to do, and I didn’t say a word.

Is the sin also mine to bear?

A lack of empathy is what some people call it. Yet they’re wrong because I can feel it. I too feel guilty that I didn't do anything to help Elizabeth. I only pushed her further down the spiral. If I told you that I can’t sleep because of it, would you believe me?

Tripping balls is what everyone is thinking that I do when I get trapped inside of my head of mine. It’s an easier explanation than trying to convince them that I can see them as an observer, just like you see me. It’s maddening. Most of the time I feel like I am insane, that I’m just a fish trapped inside this bowl of mine. Something that’s trying to make sense of something I’m unable to describe. It’s not omnipotence, but rather an emotion of seeing things where they are heading.

Like reading a book.

Watching a movie.

But not playing a video game.

So let me tell you this. I’m not actually on any drugs when they describe me. Although I have experimented out of curiosity, it’s not something I do. The most I can manage is marijuana but only because it mellows out these visions of mine.

Although I see where things are headed, I cannot see where I am being pulled. Like I said before, something is taking me to the unknown, and lately, it scares me that it’s getting dangerous. I could debate you if this is predestined or through free will since it sort of just happens.

If God does exist, I would like to ask why it’s pulling me towards this woman with the white eyes and what does it have to do with Grace Ciotta. I would like to ask why it’s pulling us all towards this singularity.

Father turns off the TV and it pulls me out of my head.

Until next time.