Disarmed

I was swallowed by words that were none. I have viciously self-disarmed. Everything that were not right, I have overlooked. Efforts were dedicated to embrace discretion. I have mysteriously clad in another facade. Patience was all I have. I cannot be more surreptitious.

Responds to the same inquisition varied from time to time. Why are you always grey? Why am I always black and white? Come, let me help break the shell. Let me encourage. Emerge. This isn’t only about possession. I demand clarity. I am not restrained but I’m still your passenger. I could have abandoned this ride but circumstances expect me to take control and drive instead. As if all my efforts are inadequate.

Fortune tellers warned me. I never paid attention. I never shake off my obsession.

I could not swallow any more uncertainty. I could not abide to always give in and being the losing end. I would like to witness the release of efforts. Emerge.

Stay awake. It’s me who should be in doubt. And congratulations, you have passed your own test.

“But my words are frail, not audible. They do not even convince me, perhaps they are untrue.” – Mew, Symmetry
“Roll the window down, this cool night air is curious. Let the whole world look in, who cares who sees anything. I'm your passenger, I'm your passenger.” – Deftones, Passenger

The Cold November Rain

Two years had passed. How lovely.

November was cold and raining, in favour of my liking. As my body leaned against the wind my mind got blown away with thoughts of the distant future. Very entertaining indeed. Even better than the real thing.

Today could have been raining but the rain was on fire. I could have done a random thing like being there. But when the opportunity is excellent, the situation is always unfortunate. I resent these circumstances. I feel ire. Have I not always been prescient?

I’m not really comfortable with this invisibility.

Don’t sleep, there are ambiguities to contemplate and amends to make.

Drive faster.

“And so fear me, December.” – Mew, Apocalypso
“I think I’m dumb. Or maybe just happy.” – Nirvana, Dumb

Suspended In Midair: A Result of Procrastination

I am deranged. You are absolutely insane. With you it’s always the mood swings. With me it’s always the ambiguities.
As ambiguous as it may seem, it does feel safe and sickening at the same time. But then when you get down and was somehow told to sit on a swing, you got pushed too hard. Danger attacks.
Blame Arabella! She shouldn’t have let all her weaknesses exposed. Now has it ever occurred to you why she stays inside the sphere? She was blinded, mate. Her veneer may be cracked but at least she’s not playing dumb.
Oh – and of course I am offended.

I have always been put on hold. And maybe I left my emotions at home. And please do try not to enrage me with your ego in public, you wouldn’t want that and I’d be least inclined to create a scene.
If only motivation can be bought at stores. I’ll buy one for me and more for you.
Don’t mind me staring into the void. You could not exceed my prescience. Now sleep.

"The queerest of the queer, the strangest of the strange, the coldest of the cool, the lamest of the lame, the numbest of the dumb." - Garbage, Queer
"This is confusion, am I confusing you?" - Oasis, Columbia

Disclosure Desired

There comes a time in each person’s life when they have all the faith in the world that they can finally make something happen. Now Arabella has reached the point of no return. It was almost beyond imaginary.

Things she regrets saying. Sights she regrets seeing. Sounds she regrets hearing. Words she regrets writing. There’s no turning back, unfortunately.

Why are you always grey? Why is she always black and white?

Rapture was close and Arabella was hidden within discomforting silence. She doesn’t ask ‘why?’ anymore. She has been disarmed, though I haven’t. I feel numb and cold. Maybe it’s because it’s too undeterminable. Maybe it’s because of my ego. Maybe it’s because of yours. Maybe it’s because it contradicts.

How did I become emotionless, apathetic and intolerant? Or have I always been? Too much ambiguity is not that harmful. I need that luck, by the way, and everything else would be as bittersweet.

Now go back to sleep, we’ll go outside when it’s overcast.

“Cold silence has a tendency to atrophy any sense of compassion” – Tool, Schism
“As your time is running out, let me take away your doubt” – Nine Inch Nails, In This Twilight

Rage

Outta my way you prick. You've done too much damage.

Silent Treatment

It wasn't me, it was Arabella. Blame her. It was all her fault. Blame Arabella!

Oh, silence.
A silence that leaves me with the opportunity to feel the need to be motivated by a particular interrogation.
Unlike how I usually behave, I would gladly like to interfere. Mine is limitless.

There are so many things I would like to be told. There are so many things I would like to tell.

I can not yet tell if it was intentional.
I'm sorry, I don't know how to respond to that particular kind of joke.

Go away, stranger. Leave that man alone. But aren't you always there to spoil the fun?

"What am I to do with all this silence?" - A Perfect Circle, A Stranger

Blockage

Isn’t it ironic that what’s been keeping me sane all this time is the inherent freakishness? In fact, it’s the very thing that got me excited in the first place.

Why do I have to see what I don’t want to?
Does every question need a reason?
Do I need to give reasons to ask questions?
Can we quit playing dumb already?

The fact that I’m always right makes me laugh maniacally – and writhe devastatingly. Have I delivered perhaps too many ambiguities? I beg your forgiveness, I unwisely thought it was amusing. My mental clarity had long since dulled.

This disappearance is very, very discomforting. I only sleep when there’s nothing worth staying awake for. And oh boy, have I been held in slumber. I won’t be surprised if I start seeing double, because my head literally aches out of (perhaps) exaggerated anxiety.

Don’t tell me you don’t realize what you already know.
Don’t get fooled by your own tricks.
Whatever you do, don’t tell anyone.
And that character you like to play… I didn’t get to know its name yet.

Or maybe that unusual development was only imaginary. It was all in my head.

Don’t mind this post. It has nothing to do with you. Go back to sleep.

“No one ever died from wanting too much.” – Garbage, The World Is Not Enough
“I’m not, not sure, not too sure how it feels to handle everyday.” – Silverchair, Miss You Love

I don't feel alright

I'm not usually this obvious.

Even Better than the Real Thing

At this point it has appeared in most dreams I have had. It feels safe and sickening – as if being suspended in midair. It was just like in the movies. Revelation, revelation, don’t you strangers all wish for a revelation? I know I do.

It perpetually seizes so much the attention of my seemingly warped mind. I have researched thoroughly and no, there is nothing it can hide from me.

I wish I could conspicuously exclaim it out, like IN YOUR FACE.

On second thought, let the questions remain. It wasn’t meant to be understood anyway.

“Like the dream you know one day will come to life. Try to hold on just a little longer, stronger.” – Faith No More, The Real Thing
“It really, really, really could happen.” – Blur, The Universal

Sleepwriting

It’s astonishing, how our minds tantalize us when we’re half asleep. The sights you see. The sounds you hear. They feel so genuine yet incessantly bizarre. Your pupils dilate as you fall into languidness, constantly transfixed by your surreal surroundings.

I feel nervous for no reason. Like I have said, I have given so many hints. I have elaborated, explained, enlightened, through unspoken words, about the thing I think about during my sleep. You didn’t pay attention.

I would be willing to stay awake much longer than I usually do. I would be willing to stare all day. I would be willing to follow. If there are chances, I would.

I feel obliged to behave as such. Or maybe I was asking too much. I am pushed by the affliction which it has become. Aha! We all know it knows no boundaries. They formed simultaneous distractions – and contradictions. Those paces are slow but indefinite (all puns intended).

Oh well what can I say? I’m in no position to be demanding. It was an inevitable mistake from the very first. It’s not easy living a contradiction. Apart from this and my vanity I barely speak of more. Isn’t it ironic?

I stared at my ceiling for hours, muttering. I considered each and every possible step but none of it is sane. I wish I believe in magick.

Don’t think I have never thought of revelation. At times I wish those strangers could read beyond my words. But then again we all have come to know that when every word unfolds, I will be disarmed. Now I wouldn’t want to be disarmed, would I? I might as well draw a line across my face. I want to keep the questions coming. No, I need to.

I have to go back to sleep so I can contemplate some more. Strangers, stay strange. And sober.

“There is a dream inside a dream, I’m wide awake the more I sleep.” – Marilyn Manson, The Reflecting God

The Chasm of Hypocrisy

Shut up, if you feel nauseous then get out.
I do not want to hear your arguments.
I’m the one who’s always right.

What kind of answer do you expect to hear? It’s either an ass-kissing, pleasant yet hypocritical answer or an honest, straightforwardly bitter harsh answer – though I would prefer not to give any.

I could lie and make up a story like you would probably do, but it’s just not my style, is it? I keep changing sides; I can’t even talk to myself without anyone listening anymore.

Learn to choose, just like you have to learn to choose what to hide and what to show.

Don’t give strangers reasons not to ask questions. After all, they’re strangers, they should be asking questions. Don’t put yourself in such a futile position. Ignorance is bliss and you, of all people, should believe that.

But it’s a cycle, so just you wait.

I told you so.

Warning Signs

Strangers brag about their negative traits, and I come up with a list of my own:

I am arrogant.
I am vain.
I am egocentric.
I am always right.
I am out of place.
I am fake, even faker than you.
I forgive, but I don’t forget.
I flee from my responsibilities.
I blame others.
I manipulate situations.
I hate strangers.
I am apathetic.
I don’t socialize.
I don't empathize.
I am a hypocrite for hating hypocrites.

But above all, I am honest.
I told you I was arrogant. No, I warned you.
Get used to those.

Some Stranger Demanded a New Post

It’s not like I’m some kind of writing machine, lad.

Oops, pardon my sarcasm. I thought no one reads this piece of shit blog.

What’s today’s theme?

Death? Entertainment? Deathtertainment? Dead people martyred on TV?

I still don’t get how people turn death into something profitable. That’s what you get if you die and the world is watching. Your relatives then turn your funeral into some kind of show. Isn’t that just sick? Aren’t funerals supposed to be sacred? Am I exaggerating? Imagine a worldwide live broadcast of strangers and freaks spend their worthy savings to see you get united with earth.

All the more reasons not to watch TV. Without any disrespect to the late King, I didn’t watch the funeral – for this very reason.

Fuck the media. (How ironic. Someday I’ll be working alongside the media. Ambivalence? Yes, get used to it.)

“If you die when there’s no one watching, then your ratings drop and you’re forgotten. If they kill you on their TV, you’re a martyr and a lamb of god.” – Marilyn Manson, Lamb of God

Think about it and go back to sleep, strangers.

Yes, it’s all part of the idealism.

Turn Ego into Something Beautiful

Okay, strangers. I have recently found out that these writings could actually generate feedback; meaning some strangers (who cared) actually read this armory of words of mine – quite unexpectedly. But then they would ask me “Why?” – and I would say “Just because.”

No, strangers. It has no purpose. It’s pure ego.
Why bother, then, if it has no purpose?
Well – why not?

When you’re half asleep, you start to write about things that only make sense if you’re half asleep. Then when you’ve completely woken up you’d realize, “What the fuck?”

Why are people doing what they’re doing? Why are strangers so strange? And I shiver by even the slightest sight of a writing of it. Distractions and contradictions.



People have been suspecting, but let them ask questions. Let strangers be strange. Let the people whom I gravitate towards be even stranger. I have discovered that physical contacts can be mentally damaging. Then I found myself waking up muttering to the very thing I muttered just before I fell asleep.

It’s a cycle, it’s not like I can predict it.

You would never think this could cause so much rapture, would you?

Then again, ego is only a matter of perspective. I will be disarmed when every word unfolds. The end is nigh they say, now go back to sleep.

Unity in Absurdity

Have you not been aware that we have much in common?

Why are people doing what they’re doing?

Why are strangers so strange?

Election Day

No, I didn’t vote for either of them. After all, to be neutral is a choice, right? Skeptical as always.

Why?

Well – none of them was satisfactory to me, and if whoever’s elected is going to be a mistake, I don’t want to be one of the people who voted for that mistake. I don’t want to be a part of it.

I hate politics.

It's Called Neuroticism, Lad.

…and I’m not getting rid of it.

I’m at the peak of weariness, my otherworldly being is at stake. I’m not planning to rid the disease that I’ve created myself out of several emotional avalanches. At least not for now.

Do you know that things start to get bad when you lie to yourself? That’s why I don’t. And I chose to bear all the consequences caused by not lying to myself. Confused? Good.

I’m still busy composing words that could enlighten you. I don’t think I’m qualified to join your parade – I never was qualified to join anyone’s. Thus I embark on my own. But being on the right track doesn’t mean you know where you’re going.

I want more than just observing from behind the stained glass. I carry my torch everywhere I go, but everywhere I go I see grey. I feel massive thuds in my organs. I have hours to spare. I have been through in-depth contemplations. I’m not going to burn all the evidences – but I am not leaving traces. I’m accustomed to that.

A million words I have written in the subject of this matter. It has become the one thing I usually mutter just before I fall asleep. I have given so many hints, but they were just not paying attention. They were too busy being realistic – but then again, shouldn’t we all?

Still busy inventing phrases that could enlighten you. Phrases of thoughts that could only be conceived by such idiosyncrasy.

Whatever I do, I should leave a gap – and so should you strangers. It’s true that striving in this realm had given nothing but insanity, trauma and wild mood swings, but aren’t those my fields of expertise? Things start to scare me at this point, because people made me believe that I don’t have much time left. But I’m bound by circumstances and as far as I know there is nothing I can do that is sane.

If I am not to be given that particular option, then it’s my burden to bear. It’s a path that I would have chosen.

If it’s going to be an infinite endeavor, I might as well somehow be told by now.

Still trying to create subtle struggles that could enlighten you. But here I am, writing a blog that no one reads.

But it’s all in my head.

This isn’t about what you think it is. I’m trying not to sound delusional. But then again it’s only a matter of perspective. Strangers, you are free to interpret this in any way your strange minds would like to.

And I will be disarmed when every word unfolds.

Hush now, go to sleep.

Ambivalences and Double Entendres

I have nothing but good intentions. While I was out there, making people’s amends, I hope you were in your best consciousness to realize that I was out there, making people’s amends.

Did you know? Sometimes, holding yourself back for other’s advantage is necessary. Or was it me who always sacrifice?

Gullible? Or overly understanding?

It’s funny how one tiny itsy bitsy “mistake” can turn one’s respect to others into resentment. The way I see it, egocentrism is acceptable as long as it doesn’t affect others’ objectives. To live a life driven out of “impulse” is not really how I would picture ideal.

People are not that tricky to hide things from me. I know all the theories, I’ve been there before, I’ve done those before. The ability to read beyond words is essential.

Have you ever been stabbed in the back? Have you ever been stabbed in the front? If you have experienced both, then you might realize that they don’t actually much differ. People who stab you in the front might as well stab you in the back too, and that should be just obvious. One can’t be too careful, strangers.

I did not intend to create such contradictory.

No, I don’t share.

No, it’s much more elaborate than that.

If you feel like you understand but unsure of any of what has been written, then I have successfully done my job. I will be disarmed when every word unfolds.

Go back to sleep, strangers.

Hello, stranger. I don’t think we’ve met before.

The first things of everything should be introductory, so here goes the introductory first post.

My name is Reisha Annabelle Sinulingga, but for some reasons people call me Manson. Most people often fail to see how pleased I am to be called by my real name again. Omega is an alter ego, if you’d say so, though I cannot tell which one of me is the alter ego. I can’t believe how fake I am. Anyway, Omega was of course inspired by Marilyn Manson’s fourth studio album Omega & the Mechanical Animals, and the intriguing philosophy behind it.

I have just turned 20. I have spent 12 years of my youth studying in Bakti Mulya 400, and I’m currently a striving Advertising student in STIKOM The London School of Public Relations Jakarta.

I have a family and I love them. I manage a band and I love them. I have several close friends and I love them. But don’t get me wrong, of course everyone is a stranger.

I am nervous, awkward and obsessed. I’m fond of perfection. I get cranky during my not-so-occasional sleep deprivations. I am not the most sociable person yet strangely enough some people find me very friendly. I often still surprise myself by what I’m capable of doing, but I’m very observant at some points so everything should be alright.

I enjoy music, it’s always a good manner of escapism. I enjoy solitude. I enjoy reading the dictionary. I enjoy reading a dictionary while listening to music in my solitude.

I have been careful enough not to indulge myself in any manner of today’s youth hedonism. Of course it’s tempting, I’d be lying to say I was never tempted. But out of indelible idealism I will always try to preserve my lifelong sobriety for God knows how long.

I have not decided what this blog is going to be about (and probably never will). But whatever’s written here, they were once in my head. Of course I have stolen lines from famous people (preferably musicians), but then again, those lines were once popped into my head too, weren’t they? I have a habit of writing down whatever is in my head (including famous people’s lines) – whether it be thoughts, lyrics, obsessions, or any thing/word that popped into my head – though usually they would be on papers. But papers get lost at some point in their worldly existence, so, yeah.

I’m a total neophyte in this blog thing, but am eager to share my ambivalence through such virtual means. I accept comments, insults, protests, kudos and anything from any of you strangers who would care – but then again, you’re a stranger, so what do I care? *another line from famous musician stolen

One’s mind is what intrigues me best and I appreciate every opportunity to exchange thoughts with people alike.

So long, stranger.

Reisha