thespookycampix Halloween Special: Campix’s Story
The following story deals with mature subject matter some may find disturbing. Viewer discretion is advised.
I've always been scared of the dark. It's not something I really felt I had to admit before now, but since it's Halloween in two days, I figured that I should just come out with it now. In Blank Space, it's never dark. There's no night or day here. We don't sleep. Or, we can, it's just...I don't sleep.
I used to sleep so much. Time went by so slowly and so quickly at the same time here. There's no sun, or anything, and I didn't even know whether the clocks were right. Even now, the ones that I made just...they don't seem to apply, ever. So naturally, the easiest thing to do to pass time was sleep.
Soon enough it gets easier for you to sleep when it's so bright. If you're talking philosophically, the brightness doesn't even mean that it's bright at all. I'd use the word 'bleak'.
But I used to sleep a lot. Then I found tumblr.
And now I don't sleep. Ever.
I need to see everything. I need to look at my askbox over and over and over, I need to immerse myself in this little window of the real world, tinted through a lens I can't even see anymore. I was scared of this site five years ago. And now it's all I care about. The fact that I am showing up in the real world at all is thanks to tumblr.
But there's no one here. You're all words. All of you. Every single one of you is just a collection of ones and zeroes. None of you are real to me. The only people I have is two alternate versions of myself, an old woman, and a kid I nearly doomed. And this is all I'm ever going to be living like.
Thoughts like that can really do a number on someone's psyche.
Sometimes things go black. I don't know whether I'm blinking or not. I'm chained down, screaming out for anyone to hear me, recognize me, know I exist, and all I'm seeing are hearts. Hearts like eyes showing that there are people watching, people seeing me, but they don't say a word. Hiding behind a window. I'm screaming at them, trying to talk, connect, do anything, but I just see more hearts. More eyes. More silence.
There's an imposter living my life, typing these words, pressing the 'post' button. There's an imposter who I talk to each and every day. I call him my best friend. And he is. But he's taken my life as much as I've taken his, and I'm speaking through him. I have no voice. I have no autonomy.
You're all ones and zeroes, I'm all neurons firing in someone's brain. You're reduced to digital code, I'm reduced to electrical signals.
Or is it the other way around?
I haven't slept. I need to see the hearts. The eyes. I need to come to terms with having nothing and everything but it just won't happen. I feel a sense of death creeping up upon me but there is nothing. Everyone here is me. Everyone, in a single colour, outlines on a white backdrop, they're all figments of Multi's imagination.
I want to make some sort of sound. I want to yell. I want to let out cry after cry after cry for help but nobody comes because I do not have a voice. I have no paws to run, I have no eyes to see, I have no ears to listen.
I have no mouth and I must scream.