The Blurryface Effect

The Trees, They Awake and Clouds Anticipate

      We came home smiling and bawling with laughter. The night had come faster than the sun, and we had spent the whole day having a blast. I was happy, and I was good. My joy overcame every other feeling. My meds started working again, of course with higher doses, it does have its pros and cons.
Pros: happy, healthy, no more blurryface. Clarity of mind.

Cons: loss of appetite, headaches, stomachaches

      I lost weight. Josh was always worrying about that, but truth was, I was the best I had been in a long time. We looked out for each other, and we were creating more content. I got overexcited about sharing these ideas. It was almost as if I was draining a little strand of Him with every song, and trapping him inside the digital storage space, like a leaf to a scrapbook. He was fading, and fast. By the time I had started the last track, which had been half finished from a few years ago, I was ripping handfuls of him out, lines at a time. I put every last string of his essence into the album. I based everything on him. His little plastic cage. A polycarbonate prison. Compact into digital megabytes of data. He was nothing but pixels of information to me, and to my computer. It was now, I felt, I could look him directly in the eye. I could slap him in the face if I wanted to, but I didn't. I was too busy. I had a plan, and I needed every last piece in place, before I could try. It was only then, I knew for sure that I could destroy him for good. I needed to make sure that he could never get near me, and hurt me or anyone I cared about ever again. So I began.

     I pieced strings of his voice. I drew what I saw from my metaphorical standpoint. After all, he was me, and I was him. He looked like me, but with blood red eyes. His neck and hands black, because of the noose he had tied around my neck, that had left ebony encrusted scars. We were connected, so any scar on me, appeared on him. His hands and mine were midnight, for the punches he threw, and the fists he had clenched around my wrists so tightly they broke. His scarlet top hat was replaced by a withered out beanie. That was more, us, anyway. His face was a molten array of white splotches, and red patches where his right eye and his mouth were. I was left eye dominant, and he blinded the rights and wrongs of me. He muddied the words that fell from my mouth with sour taste, and foul meaning.

      I filtered the remnants of his presence onto a Twitter page. Fragments of the  beckoning words he used to whisper in my ear, now nonsense to anyone that hadn't heard before. I poured every single tear, drop of blood, and bead of sweat into the final entrapment. 

        People caught on, and a fire was started. People questioned. People theorized, and some, even solved. People got it, and with enough time, more experiences popped all over the world. People telling the tales of their own demons. Their own Blurryfaces. People of all shapes and sizes got together, relating and connecting. Stories told far and wide, and came back around again. More people accumulated. I wasn't alone, and neither were they. We stood together. We were one.

      I felt the most relief I had ever felt in my life, like an army of elephants had been taken off my back, and the weight could no longer hurt me. I felt light as the plume of a dove. I was at peace. Regaining bits of myself day by day. Recovery. Reconciliation. Redemption.

    I gained parts of myself I had long forgotten to exist. And slowly, ever slowly, did I finally pick myself off the floor. I had an army behind me. Ready to fight the war I had started. It was only a mere matter of hours that the true final battle would begin.

      I closed my eyes and swallowed. Looking up to the ceiling, I pressed the back of my head to the wall. This was it. This was going to end. Once and for all. I was going to be ridden of the demon that had taken residence in my brain for far too long. The ghost would no longer haunt me. I was going to be set free, among thousands of others, and when we did we were going to storm out like a swarming flock of doves finally released from a century of captivity.

Today was the eve of the day that was bigger than us.

They must open there eye to him, I told them they must.

        The whole world was readying itself for a revolution. The trees were awake, and alive, and the clouds began to anticipate the timeless tempest brewing in millions of hearts around the planet.

This was it.

It was going to end.