Responsibility

The challenge is to reclaim that feeling. The feeling that we are here for something bigger than simply survival. To look at the world in opposite terms of “enlightenment”. To look at the world with a sense of beauty that was lost through the realization that we are simply organisms. Not even organisms. Parasites. We've become a parasitic existence crawling across the surface of the globe. Taking, destroying, manipulating in an effort to “develop”. The truth is, the environmentalists are wrong. The earth does NOT need us. The earth is an organism in itself. And like the human body, the earth will destroy the cancer that threatens its existence. Reset the process and start fresh. Human beings are far from the central theme of this dance with space. The earth will strike us out and we will not be missed. So the question is, once you realize this, how do you find passion. How do you find meaning and purpose and the star-burst of hope that flickered as a child. Hope that things will turn out as you wanted them to. A life rich with feeling, adventure and the undeniable thrill of growing towards something. Suddenly you make the realization that we will never have meaning. We are organisms that exist for a brief instant in the universe. And it is just as suddenly that you find yourself. Lost in a sea of confusion and wanderlust, you rekindle a brief second of childhood wonder. And it is in this brief moment that you realize, it is a necessity to reclaim the beauty and observe it in a fresh environment. The question is how?
The question of how has been corrupted in my mind over and over. The relentless pursuit of passion has has taken me to places I may never be able to come back from. Your mind is a sponge. It begins at an early age, sucking in the world around you, molding itself into a vision of its own perception. I had believed that any experience is good experience. Any idea is an idea worth pondering because it brings about a new way of looking at the world around you. The world is a dark place. Things are senseless, violent. My mind has always been drawn towards the idea that to ignore this darkness is to be naive. To disregard the vast percentage of the globe that hinges on a “immoral” way of life is to to sit pretty in a ridiculously idealistic view of life in general. In some way this is true, and I still believe this. But things have changed now. I've made the realization that life isn't simply something you can discount as a collage of experiences. Its been said time and time again that your life is a blank canvas. You throw it together piece by piece, slapping paint onto a colourless reality until it blossoms into a completed portrayal of your entire existence. The question, that has always been pondered upon, is where that piece of reality goes when our physical body leaves us. In all honesty, I cant answer this. What I can do, however, is paint a picture of my own experience in an attempt to help you understand.
In an effort to enlighten, I give you three scenes from my life that stick out as turning points in my existence and substance. The first occurred near the beginning, at the turmoil age of 17. Picture a setting sun, hanging over a barren soccer field laced with the cold frost of a coming winter, only a month or two away. I stood on this field and watched Abbadon, my uneasiness growing.
The girl was pretty, although quite a bit younger than us. The type of youthfulness that makes you feel guilty for the word pretty even entering your mind. Her small arms straining, she swung herself higher and higher, back and forth beneath the goal posts, despite Abbadon's presence.
Abby grew up as the boy with all the expertise of an adult. Living in a household of three older brothers, Abby influenced and educated all of us on the world of sexuality. At the age of 9, I had been witness to my first pornographic experience, and this was all thanks to Abby. Not only that but the first skin site I experienced? Scatlovers.com. This in itself should have answered a lot of questions for me on my experiences through adulthood. Only beginning to develop into man, I had already seen a side of sex that many people go their entire lives without knowing.
Cut back to the soccer field. The girl swinging (a stranger to us) and Abby becoming closer and closer to her, his hands running down along her body, fingers grasping at each tiny curve on her small frame. I was watching and feeling more uncomfortable with each pass the girl made under the cross beam. Abby had his hands slipping up inside the girls lime green T-shirt now, moving up in an accidental-on purpose sort of way, a seemingly innocent attempt to spur her momentum. The hungry look in Abby's eyes suggested otherwise. He stared at every movement of her body, eyes alight in a disturbing sense of desire.
Here lies the danger. Passion and desire are what stimulate human life. Reproduction holds us in a constant state of craving. As a human being, we have the gift of perception. The ability to observe ourselves and map out our progress as a constantly evolving being. As a species, we've developed into a world that hinges on more than just “sex” Sex has become something of a novelty rather than a tool for survival. And in this absence of necessity, comes the reality of corruption.
I still can't describe why I did nothing to stop him. I stood there anxiously, watching this molestation (and this was truly what it was) unfold, and part of me didn't believe it. My doubts out-weighed my motivation to stop it. The idea that this was reality seemed preposterous. Doubt and a pathetic need to please clouded my mind. It blinded me to the presence of corruption. Corruption that seeped into one of our only true drives, and split the sexual necessity into something more complicated. Abby had always had the type of personality that produced a need for his approval. Almost psychopathic, the way he could manipulate his peers into craving his attention. There was an aspect in this that tricked me into believing Abby could do no wrong. There was one other thing. And this was most disturbing.
As I stared at the events before me, I felt something. Abby had lifted the girl off the bar, and was rolling her along the ground now, laughing as if it was all a joke. His hands were pulling her shirt up, making a show of tickling her but exposing her tiny, undeveloped breasts. As I watched this, as I watched the girl's face change from a look of excitement, to a look of confusion, before sliding into a look of pure fear, I grew hard. My feeling of unease and dread grew into utter fascination. I stood here, my jeans bulging outward as Abby dragged the girl into a face-down position, her face smearing into the grass, speckles of green and brown mixing with her moist cheeks. She was crying. She was crying and I continued to stare intently. I gazed with keen interest into those eyes, my dick swelling completely as the blood of my soul filled its unbiased perception. Glistening. Trembling. Fists clenched. The girl's actions were synonymous with mine, yet we stared at each other from worlds away. Abby was yanking her jeans down around her ankles now. Her tiny legs exposed in a way that spoke of complete innocence and infancy. As I licked my lips, leaning unconsciously forwards towards the scene unfolding in front of me, the girl opened up her pretty little mouth in such a way. The entire world dropping away, allowing me this one moment of dopa-mine infused ecstasy. It was at this moment, as I began to walk, working my across the field towards her, that she began to scream.
This is the reality of life. Your mind is a dark void, a empty cavern that interprets each piece of information making its way through he darkness as something that can be applied to your existence. Within this darkness is a layer of consciousness that can be picked at, prodded at and dragged into the light. Exposing it as an element of desire or personality. The information entering this cerebral mass is your responsibility. How you perceive this is integral to everything. There are aspects to your own understanding of this world that may never been visible to yourself, until one event triggers an entire mindset that can alter the very fabric in which you base your life on. One miscalculation leads to an entire lifetime of corrupt perception. Weakness. Sorrow. Pleasure in such a way that you'll never be the same as you once were. Welcome to the beginning of the rest of your life.
Flash to my middle ages. Adoring wife, handsome son, house, picket fence, all that shit. Laptop open in front of me. Tie thrown across the bed in my haste to get under the covers, the familiar and comforting glow glaring across my face. Poised on my stomach so I can swell up behind it, my hands perfectly positioned and available. Wife out, kids at the babysitters. This is my time. My fingers shake with excitement, flying across the keys as I open my tabs, each one adding an extra security blanket to crawl into and hide from the world. This was a daily occurrence now, rushing home to capture the empty house. Ushering the dogs outside to allow myself guilt free enjoyment. This was my world, my existence, the one thing I looked forward to at the end of the day. Unhealthy? Definitely. But I was going to stop, of course. Next week, or tomorrow. Not today. Not today when I needed this so bad. It was a stressful day. And one more viewing couldn't hurt. I went through the necessary process, making sure all of my tracks were covered. Luckily, my interests lay in deeper places than Google. Like a dribble of water, glistening in the sunlight, I ran down the side of the internet iceberg, down the nooks and crannies that touched the daylight, down until I hit the surface. My dribble of water became an anonymous piece of the liquid. Translucent and anonymous, it enveloped the mass of ice sagging into the blackness. From there, I followed the ridges and infinite pathways, descending across the ice until I settled in my world. A snowflake on the surface of an indistinguishable sheet of ice. The sheet of ice formed a minuscule area of the chunk that symbolized the rest of the web. And from this anonymous perch, I could watch.
My tabs were filling my screen now. Pinkie, Chlorocandy, PredatoryHighway. These were my drugs. These were the images that relaxed me, pushed the world's issues away and allowed me to truly live in the moment. My eyes were set in a hardened stare. Taking in every second of video as my erection pushed hard at the cover of my laptop. I gripped it with both my hands, ceasing the clattering of the mouse and keys to allow the chosen one to play. The grand master of the hour. Toiling through millions of JPG's, GIF's and video clips, my stiff dick finally grabbed the one it needed. This was it, the clip to end all clips. Until tomorrow.
The girl was obviously pre-teen, probably around 8 or 9 years old. She was naked except for a diaper, ridiculous on a girl her age but it only high-lighted her innocence. I licked my lips and grunted softly, my hands working up and down on my dick. I didn't even need lube. The amount of pre-cum leaking out of my tip was more than enough to do the job. I wriggled under the laptop, waves of pleasure moving across my skin, goose bumping it sweetly.
The girl was tied to a wooden table, spread eagle, her extremities growing purple with the tightness of the bonds. As the struggled, arching her back and attempting to pull out of the knot, tears ran down her cheeks and she weeped silently, as she had to with the gigantic ball gag that had been forced into her mouth. Her face was a portrait of confused fear. It was present in her eyes as they darted back and forth, attempting to register and put a name to her predicament. Too young to understand the darkness of everyday life yet, the girl remained in a permanent state of dark wonder. And then the man entered. I was inches from the screen now, my hands working up and down, up and down. Naked except for a red gimp mask pasted onto his face, the man was ghost white and hulking. He was as erect as I was and his member was gigantic in comparison. The term baby holding an apple was never more true than the creature that sat poised between this man's legs. With the man continuing to walk towards her, I saw in the girl's face everything I craved. As the girl's eyes took in the erection, the mask and the man's clenched fists I saw a change in her that I needed. As the man approached her, closer and closer, I clambered toward my own explosion, holding off and calming myself to delay the inevitable. The man was almost within touching distance, placing both fists around his cock and directing it down towards the girl. The girl's eyes widened and I saw it. Understanding. The girl had comprehended that the unthinkable was going to happen. It was at this moment that I came, spraying frothy, sour smelling cum across my chest as I exhaled sharply. This was it. The point of my existence. The moment I looked forward to everyday. Somewhere it all went wrong and its fallen apart in front of me, shards of my life laying around my feet as my erection points defiantly towards the sky. Fuck this. If this is life than why do I feel so dead? So completely and utterly empty.
The well had flooded the day I allowed Abby's actions into my conscious being. My pores soaked it in and unlocked something that had been locked away. It possible I could have gone my whole life without wakening this side of me. If it weren't for Abby. That's never for certain though. All I know is that my complacency brought me to a point of no return. A spearhead smashing its way through my normalcy I had hoped to achieve. Welcome to daily struggle. The mind has infinite folds and grey matter. Your memories, your personality, your own reality runs through these channels like an ever changing river. Stones and twisted, dead trees are thrown into the water each moment, and it is up to your own intuition to clear these obstructions, smoothing them out and carrying them on their way. The little girl in the playground had been my log. Sweeping its way down into my soul, the girl had entered my mind at a very impressionable state of mind. The log had become water logged, given weight and power by my unrelenting curiosity and desire to please. As it slowed, it became embedded in the mass of mud hidden just below my stream of consciousness. This mud formed the basis for the rest of my instinct driven life.
Walking. Its how I spent most of my time during the last moments of my journey. Attempting to pull a shroud across my mind, losing myself in the monotony of putting one foot in front of the other. Around and around, my circle small and worn into the concrete floor like a snail trail of shit, tracing out the pointless existence of an undeveloped species. Naked except for a pair of grey, non descript boxers, I walked with my head down. My head no longer succumbing to dizziness after its daily cirlce conditioning. I had done seven circles tonight. Usually I was up until seventy or eighty before I had shut down enough to sleep.
It was at this moment, just before lights out, that my life flashed before my eyes. As the deadening sounds of the cell block streamed into my peripheral's, I heard the cage door slide open behind me. A violent screeching of metal accompanied by the sounds of multiple footfalls. I turned, and as I took in the men standing in my doorway, I thought of my last moment in the free world. The last moments that led me to this point.
Wife out of town with the kids, a house empty for me to lap up as much pleasure as I could that night. Streams upon streams of video open and waiting on my laptop. Something was different tonight though. I was in the dream state, my body and mind running on autopilot as dopa-mines flooded my system, blacking out any inkling of reason. This dopamine surge kept me coming back to sin. A peak of pleasure, a drop into crevasse of despair and an empty hole signaling me to do it all again. Fuck this shit. Fuck this pleasure deprived, dulled down need for pleasure. An addiction. A curse. A plague. Nevertheless, it held me by the throat tonight, and its grip tightened the further I plunged into the abyss, my fingers tapping down into the darkness in search of more. It gripped me tight enough that anxiety and second thoughts were no longer applicable to my diseased and delirious mind.
The addicted mind is a terrifying thing. It precipitates actions that are completely warped in comparison to your former self. Your personality no longer belongs to you. It belongs to the stimulant. An in a world of over stimulation, the results of this are horrific.
Before I had a chance to gauge my epiphany, I had closed the laptop. Fully erect, I stormed down the steps, unaware of my body and numb to any feeling of movement. I was black out and glassy eyed, intoxicated on my own search for ecstasy. Pulling my coat on, I leaped out the front door, pulling at my crotch in anticipation. My dick bulged beneath my jeans, pressing tightly against the inside of my zipper.
Since Abby, I had never experienced a physical representation of my urges. Tonight would be different. I knew where I was going. I was going to a place once reserved for my “shower time”. My own personal strip club. Where the internet and a screen were absent. This place dominated my daily grind. Fantasy. Fantasy drove me to her.
Tonight I would feel something concrete beneath my fingers. 2D concepts had invaded my mind for years. The misinformation my brain had absorbed on a skewed idea of sex and reproduction had run its course, and this was where it came to a head.
Across the street, down a small hill and straight through the playground to a large brick house. I had passed by here hundreds of times, each time trembling with the thoughts running through my head. She was a beautiful specimen. Just on the cusp of puberty. Too young to hold the complete maturity of an adult body, but old enough that her small curves gave off an enticing tease. She was of the latch key variety. Parents out for the majority of the time. A single child of a broken home. I had observed her, staring out my own window at the glow of the upstairs, each pane of glass lit up on weeknights, only one lit up on a night such as tonight. A Friday, where cocktails held more sway on the parents than their own child.
Desire surging through my veins, I walked towards the house, eyes locked on the upstairs window, the comforting glow like a beacon in the darkness, a porch light drawing me in. I was shaking now, my hands and penis tight. There was no rational thought anymore. Simply lust, greed and absolute sexuality. It was this moment that pooled into my head as my last clear memory. As the men entered my cell, darkness shrouding their faces, I could see myself entering the backyard silently, cutting around the house as I used the bushes as cover. I lifted the latch of the fence, my mouth literally salivating. I was in the cover of the backyard and this intensified my perversion. She couldn't see me, was oblivious to the danger, and I had all the time in the world. All the power and opportunity. I crouched beside a basement window, pushing sideways at it, only to have it slide open easily. Even better. Even fucking better. Silently I slid the window open completely. Feet first, I slid onto the basement floor. My shoes silent on the carpet. Up to the main floor. Following the kitchen to the next set of stairs, I crept upwards towards the light. The light was coming from beneath the doorway ahead of me, directly across from the top of the stairs. I moved closer and closer, careful with my weight on each stair. Teeny-bopper music drifted from beneath the door, covering any ounce of noise I made.
I finally made it to the door, my had reaching towards the knob. My adrenaline was intensified, beads of sweat causing my grip to slide across the cold metal of the handle. In one violent motion, I gripped the knob, turning it and throwing the door inwards........and then I felt the first pain in my stomach.
I was on the ground. The smell of sweat and blood suffocating me as I lay on my back , a blur of orange movement above me. Men on top of me, canvas sneakers raining down on my head, in thick, devastating blows that sent lights exploding through my vision. The pain in my stomach worsened, a sharp, searing burn careening into my abdomen as sharpened steel entered me over and over. This was it. It came down to this. A lifetime of habit broken by the violence of shear helplessness. My vision blurred and the pain began to subside. I felt myself growing further from my body, the environment of the prison falling away to be replaced by ink. A black ink spreading itself through my brain and flowing into a concentrated dot at the stem of my existence. It brought to mind the feeling of sand flowing across my entire body, the pressure of it forcing me downwards. Blindness, pressure and a freeing sensation. As if I was freed from the restraints of a physical body. I moved through this pressure, direction and awareness ceasing to exist. But something was here. Something left over from my life. That crumb of soul I had left, it glimmered beneath the surface of the abyss. I could feel my need, my craving, my unrelenting, disgusting sense of desire. Anxiety blossoming into depression sliding downward into complete self contempt. This was the compounded emotions of my life and they were still here. Still here in my lifeless existence. An existence packed to the brim with the concepts and values I based my entire being on. Without my physical body, all I had was a free floating, uncontrollable flow of thought and emotion that clung to the experiences I had as a man. An experience based on corrupted pleasure, void of thought for others. A sexual addiction that drowned any conscience I may have had. Warping my perception into that of something worse than an animal. A fiend. A need for the sexuality parasite to consume innocence. I'm not a religious man, but where I reside now can only be described as hell. A hell created by my own action and inaction. My lack of responsibility in molding my own brain. Imagine a mental disorder that lives on for eternity. All the terror and complete helplessness inside consistent stream of desperation. I built this for myself. And in building it I damned myself to a sort of hell that exists beyond the reach of rationality and reasoning. This wasn't hell of comprehensible design. This was a hell void of substance and logicality. It was a hell of consciousness.