This is Not Sabotage

Are you in doubt? Are you in doubt just like I am?

Are you an adult? Are you an adult like I physically am? Are you an adult like I mentally am not?

While you’re so determined to be mature about this, know that I don’t want to stray. I want to stay and ride your train of thoughts and I don’t plan to take the wheel, or whatever they drive trains with. We are closer to the wall than ever before. We mustn’t run too fast or we’d smash our heads right in.

I am retaining, I am maintaining. I’ve been trying so hard to extinguish the internal fire, and now that the flame is almost gone, I subsequently keep getting burned by an external fire that keeps igniting through minor provocations. This doesn’t sound like the initial plan.

It’s the same shit over and over again.

“I used to be over the moon. I am now jaded. I used to fall head over feet. I now stand still.”

I need mental stimulation, fresh ones. Renewed ones. Intriguing ones. Exciting ones.

I’ve never wanted something rational.

Damn it, why am I always asking so much?

“Constant over stimulation numbs me. But I would not want you any other way.” - Tool, Stinkfist

Objectivity

The more time I spend to think, the more questions I come up with.

I assume you all know the phrase “fight fire with fire” – but how are we supposed to fight ice? Or is it a completely different context?

And by the way – why is it always a fight, why is it always a competition for me?

Or it’s just that I am that hard to please?

You know you do, but do you know how often you do?

If you take the time to think it's actually that simple.

What? I can’t come up with a better idea other than running useless tests.

You shouldn’t have disregarded that passage.

You know I usually try really hard, but there will come a time where I just don’t try. I am not a machine, after all.

You are the quintessence of a writer’s block.

A Void

It was awfully dull, though overcast. I had yet again been encountered by a strange cycle of emotional harassment. I managed to stay indifferent; unaware that my subconscious was writhing in pain.

Remind me again why it echoes?

Honestly, I don’t ever want to go through what those people have gone through.
Honestly, I don’t ever want to get into a situation where I am forced to go through what those people have gone through.
Honestly, I don’t think I could ever initiate.
Because honestly, I won’t ever let it fall into the void.
Because honestly, my deepest wish is for it to be infinite.
Because honestly, I have never been this sure of anything else before.

Nobody likes to have their arses bullwhipped and I honestly don’t like to use one. No, I don’t. Don’t force me.

So here, again, I am trying to avoid a void amidst my subconscious. Pull me out of this quicksand.

"I hover somewhere in between, I swear. I can't make up my mind." - Incubus, Quicksand

Absorb

I keep watering a dead flower. Anything can change. I can change anything.
I am susceptible. I’m putting a halt on this tendency to overlook things.
Since when do you get to make all the rules?
I keep watering the dead flower.
I feel erratic while enjoying the thrill of injecting guilt into your veins.
I’m always right, you see, and you know I possibly am the only person capable of handling those threats.
You should have been enlightened by now that interdependence is inevitable. And that the noose is inescapable.
So much effort is put through test. Appreciate it. I thought I was ready to self-exhaust.
It’s best to not make me want to be violent. And yes the sarcasm was always intentional.
Stop watering the dead flower. There’s not enough time to marvel in the rain.

“Leap of faith, do you doubt?” – Queens of the Stone Age, The Lost Art of Keeping a Secret

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

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

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?

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.

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