Enter The Nether

Enter if you dare, Stay if you must, Welcome to my Asylum

Archive for the category “Repost”

Mr. Nobody

I wake up every morning, take a bath, brush my teeth, put on clean clothes, out the door for school, back before the sun sets, wash up again, turn on my laptop and do stuff on it until It’s almost midnight, and then off to bed for another dreamless sleep. Another regular day for plain old regular me. Don’t get me wrong I like boring days like this, at least I didn’t get robbed or anything right. All the stress that I need school can provide. There’s this thing that’s bothering me however, I really don’t know who I am. By this point you may be thinking “of course you know who you are, you’ve been living your life in that body for how many years now”, well that wasn’t really the point of my musing, you see I do know who I am as me, I know the things that I like and dislike, the people who mean so much to me and those who I’d rather not exist, and the traits that make me lovable or the object of utter hate. I know all of those things and much more about me but who am I as part of the People, you know the thing that the government should be made of, by and for. I’m biologically your average Filipino, brown skin and eyes, black hair and a reasonably flat nose. But when it comes to things that you actually become known for, I’m what you would call a global personality, My most fluent language is English, favorite comic(manga) is Japanese, Ideals I live by are part Western Democracy part Eastern Values, Movies I pay attention too are all foreign-made, 90% of the music I listen too aren’t OPM, and so much more, the list could go on and on and on and on. The truth is there is no such thing as a Filipino identity, our history isn’t even the slightest bit our own, all we remember are facts and figures that some other abusive race taught us as the whole and nothing but the truth. If you ask any decent person what makes a Filipino Filipino besides the obvious biological answer you’d get a plethora of answers like Pinoy Food, or hospitality or crab/colonial mentality or even as good english speakers, the point being there is no national identity, there is no one thing that sets us apart as a people, more so as a nation. That is one heck of a conundrum when you’re trying to motivate people to be Filipino and actually help out the Philippines when you don’t even know what a Filipino is. Don’t misunderstand, I’m all for uniqueness and individuality but when you think about it, one reason why some of our worst traits get amplified rather than our positive ones, why regionalism rules and nationalism comes to play once every other blue moon, It’s one reason why people turn to the West or in other places in the East for music and movies and literature, why we look down on our race and look up others. that is why up to this point in time i’m mr. nobody.

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“Gott Mit Uns” (God Is With Us)

“Sieg Heil Kameraden! The road to a Judenfrei Fatherland has not been easy but because we have not faltered in our resolve, the cockroaches are now secured in our camps and are no longer a threat to our people, a truly glorious day for the Fatherland.

We owe this success to the brave and vigilant forces of the Schutzstaffel who have worked long and hard to gather each and every one of these cockroaches. Why, just this morning I was witness to their skill. A concerned citizen of ours spoke of suspicious noises coming from his neighbor’s house. After thanking him, the SS officer quickly went over and questioned the neighbor and instructed his men to perform a search of the premises. Their initial search bore no fruit. The officer however, felt that there was something amiss and questioned the owner again. The owner seemed quite anxious, his face and clothes dripping with sweat. Without warning, the officer pulled out his Luger and shot at the floorboards. A loud thud was heard followed by the incessant cries of a child. The SS quickly located the door to the secret basement and found a family of six cockroaches. The thud was the wondrous sound of the bullet doing its job. The mother cockroach knelt with tears streaming down her face onto the baby in her arms. Beside her downed husband,the younger brood sobbed over what was their father. The officer ordered chains on the door and gasoline poured on every nook and cranny of the house. He then pushed the owner into the house and unloaded a bullet into his head. Afterwards he lit the match and sent the devils homeward bound.

Initially we thought to purge this pestilence with firing squads and mass graves but such a method wastes too much ammunition and pollutes our Fatherland with their disgusting blood. At the Fuhrer’s request, our capable engineers have devised an efficient and very capable system of dealing with this dilemma. I saw it for myself in Belzec where the cockroaches were lined up in long queues in front of large stone building with a chimney. The lettering on the side of the building read “bathhouse”. I and the commander of the camp entered a viewing room of sorts looking into a large mostly empty room with pipes and what looked like shower heads. Then, large group of cockroaches which were mostly children was ushered into the room. They were all naked and very afraid, conscious no doubt that this was the punishment for all their evils. The camps had done their job well, the cockroaches were nothing but bones covered by skin. Shortly thereafter was the sound of gas leaking out and a fine mist filled the large room. The cockroaches’ eyes widened and then they struggled to breath, moving around rapidly, searching for air. Then there was chaos, banging on the doors and walls, scratching at the pipes and knobs, and vomiting. Others accepted their fate and bore the pain on their hands and knees; some continued the struggle for air, for life. The youngest of the children were first to go, and then the oldest of the group. One by one the cockroaches fell into the ground, eyes wide open and blank, lifeless. I shed a tear for the marvelousness of the idea, with this weapon by our side; it will not take much longer for the purge to be complete. When the gas had subsided soldiers in full protective gear went in with wheelbarrows and removed the lifeless corpses. They carried them to what the camp commander called “God’s Oven” where the bodies were burnt into ashes and scattered into the winds. Not a drop of blood touching the Fatherland’s soil.

The Oberkommando der Wehrmacht has decreed that only those cockroaches that are unable to render any kind of service, the very young, infirmed or the elderly, should be “processed” immediately. For the other cockroaches we will make sure that every second of their existence will be in service to our noble cause. From building railroads to tanks, from sewing uniforms to packing ammunition, these cockroaches will serve us well. Although it may be a great danger to entrust such important tasks to such evil beings but we are at war, and in war we must do everything that is necessary to protect our superior race. Do not worry my comrades; even as they work we will make sure that their trespasses against mankind will be rewarded tenfold. The cockroaches will know what it’s like to wish for death.

Have no fear comrades, for whether you are on the fields of battle or in the concentration camps exterminating cockroaches, you are doing God’s work. We are the hand of God, his chosen, here to hand out his judgments!

HEIL, HITLER!”

“Heil, Hitler!” replied the gathered crowd of generals and other officers from various posts across of the 3rd Reich followed by thunderous applause. The general felt content with the reaction and made for his quarters, shaking hands along the way. He didn’t notice the shadow tailing him.

Dinner was served about 30 minutes after the general had retired to his quarters. It was sumptuous feast showcasing the plentiful bounty of the Reich. Strangely enough the guest of honor was nowhere in sight. This did not alarm anyone as the general was exhausted from his ordeal. He was found the next day, hanging from a ceiling fixture with a gaping hole where his heart should be and a note on his right pocket. The note read:

“I have taken the general’s heart, for he seems to have no use of it.”

Contemplating the Universe

A vast field of emptiness, an expanse of nothing, nothing. Until that fateful moment, a minute spark of light in that darkness and then Everything, all at once. From a singularity of the quantum world, all that will be sprang forth in an expansion beyond imagining. Swirling masses, innumerable galactic collisions, a chaotic ballet of creation and destruction, welcome to the primordial universe.

Enter the primordial stars, beings of hydrogen, helium and lithium, great masses of almost limitless energy and heat, in these crucibles sprang forth all other elements. For thousands of years this process churned out more elements, heavier and heavier they came but even this could not last forever for it taxed the very stars, for every element created their very essence eaten away, and because of it, the stars come closer to the scythe of galactic death. Closer and closer the shadow of the great equalizer loomed until BOOM! a massive explosion spreading the “enriched guts” of these first stars abroad, they may have died but in their death, they are born anew.

From that cosmic beginning came the dust clouds, the newer stars and the planets. And on a particular planet that we know of, where water, an atmosphere and heating of the sun coalesced, the firstborn of a marvelous newcomer to the cosmic scene, LIFE, microbial single-celled life, all sprang forth from the heart of a star.

I am a Slave and I am Free

Once upon a starry night, in a rice field of a far away land, the rusted blade of a sharp bolo finds its mark upon the neck of a white man. Blood erupts in a violent rain, fouling up the wind and staining the dark brown soil, crimson red. A smile of fulfillment ripples across the attacker’s face. He poises himself for a second strike but a hail of bullets pierces and rips apart his flesh. He falls to the ground into a kneeling position, uttering one final word before the light escapes his eyes, “Freedom”.
Today, most of us do not suffer that cursed fate. We do not spend our lives searching and fighting for freedom, only to have it manifest in our final moments. We no longer are shackled and ordered around like dogs to their masters. We are free. But is that truly the case? Are we truly free? Yes, we no longer fight for freedom but does that mean that we are free?
Today we have a choice; decisions are no longer made for us but by us. We no longer dance like puppets on a string but have become the puppeteers of our own fate. But does choice beget freedom? For in choosing we commit ourselves to the goals and consequences of our choice. We submit ourselves to the rewards and trials that the choice is heir to. We accept everything that may happen as a result of our choice. We, in the broadest sense of the word, are enslaved by the choices we make.
Today, we are independent, a nation, a republic, a democracy. We choose our own leaders for our own good. Gone are the times when leaders were appointed for us, we choose our own leaders for our own good. We are a people, millions strong and still growing, with a distinct culture, distinct language and our own distinct hopes and dreams. But does independence beget freedom? For yes we are masters of our own land but are we not governed by international rules and policies? Do we not abide by the whim of those beyond our borders? Isn’t the present and future of our nation but products of the events of the past? For we are a democracy that decides upon things as we see them, but do we not see things as we have been trained to? We are slaves of our own breeding.
Today, cries ring out in the streets. Thousands upon thousands of our countrymen shout with all their might. EQUALITY, LIBERTY, FRATERNITY! Equal rights and options, equal treatment and judgment, equal everything or nothing at all. Men rise and fall by that desire, that devout wish to have as much as his brethren, to stand on equal ground with the top. To be treated as one would treat his own flesh and blood. To be free, is to be equal. But does equality beget freedom? For in fight for equality, our trains of thought are set on similar tracks. Dreams of mountains are swapped for hills, we wish for the sky but settle for the ground, because that is the best way for everyone to stand equal. We are slaves to our ideals.
Today, we refer to ourselves as free. We enjoy this freedom, relish it. We shout unto the wind “carry this message of a man as free as you, the shackles and chains are no more and shall never be again for I have tasted freedom and shall never let it go” but do we really know what freedom is?
In this day and age wherein we are supposedly as free as the wind that carries our voices, there are many slaves: Slaves to power who in turn enslave those within their grasp Slaves to greed of all sorts who consume and hoard and still are never content. Slaves to technology who, without it, lie as cripples without aid. Slaves to the dictates of society, single-minded and afraid of deviation, a constant traveler of the bandwagon, he who mocks and jeers at what is different and whose identity is one with the crowd, apart from it, he is nobody. There are slaves of all shapes and sizes, slaves to the material and the immaterial, slaves to acts and to inaction, slaves to words and to silence, slaves to modernity and to tradition. In this world of slaves, what place does freedom have?
Oh but freedom does have a place. It is in the beating of a butterfly’s wing, in the crash of waves upon the sandy shore, in the swaying of branches to the soft whisper of the wind, in the ceaseless beating of the human heart. It is in the soft cry of a newborn child, in the melody of the forest, in the falling of leaves as autumn passes into winter. Freedom is in everything that is beautiful, in everything that is loved. But what is freedom? Well, just as beauty and love can only be defined by an individual then so is freedom. The fight for freedom rages on in each and every one of us. We can never be truly free lest we are able to define what freedom is to us. In this world of slaves, there is freedom for even in slavery, freedom can prosper.
The brown man kneels there, eyes closed, head tilted to the sky, blood seeping out into the soil, and his final word passes from his mouth into the open air, “Freedom”.
And to the high mountains and plains of rice, to the lakes, rivers, and oceans, and to the air, the clouds and the sky, I shall say in mighty revelry that I am free!

To be Heard

I hear voices in my head but I know they are my own, somehow me but not me. They sound so different and talk of so many different things but I know they are mine. They have bodies of their own, different faces, different thoughts and mannerisms, but they all reside in my mind.
In a plane between dreams and regular thoughts, they reside, voicing out to be heard, advising and reacting, as if they had minds of their own and yet they all reside in my mind.
They play out fantastical stories and go on amazing adventures, waging glorious wars and performing heroic feats. Heroes and Villains who in their spare time keep me company when I’m bored. I hear them loudest when there’s nothing to do or nothing to think about. I immerse myself in their sagas and battles, putting myself in their shoes and wielding their mighty weapons, all in the confines of my mind.(If you see me walking around, talking to myself, waving my arms around, making strange noises, that’s basically what I’m doing.)XD
I don’t know if they really have thoughts of their own or if they really do feel different things. All I know is they seem to act like a board of advisers, telling me their opinions on different matters, and sometimes I listen, sometimes I don’t. They meet in a place inside my mind.
They seem like outgrowths of an overactive imagination or a mind thats got some extra thinking time. Maybe it’s just that I’m strange or just lonely, most probably both. Or maybe it’s because I’m really just crazy and downright insane. I don’t even know why I’m writing this, I really don’t know why. What I do know is that this is the perfect opportunity to learn something wild and wacky about me. Something I mainly keep to myself. But this is real and I do hear them, voices that are mine and aren’t mine. This is an opportunity for you to learn, what goes on in my mind.

So Live

Life is an Irony, Everything is so topsy-turvy.

Life is a Simile, Everything is unlike Everything Else and yet still are alike.
Life is a Hyperbole, everything is out of this world and still part of it.
Life is an Onomatopoeia, It’s just noise but we know it stands for something valuable.
 
Life is LIFE no matter how you look at it, it may be vague or exceptionally clear, Easy as Pie or Hard as Hell, Mercurially Quick or Eternally Long, you’ve just got to take it all in and LIVE.

U.P. and Down

Dear Ms. ________

The sight of you makes me happy. It stirs up this emotion that is unknown to me, that feels much like fear but unlike it, I do not cower nor do I step back, but I am spellbound, exactly where I stand. I do not understand, nor do I want to understand why I am like this, I’ve never felt it before. I do not know you, nor do you know me, and this only deepens my wonder at my predicament. Had it been fate or just ill circumstance that led my gaze upon you, I think about it still.

Blank, I left it that way primarily because I know nothing about you, secondarily because I shan’t give in to clichéd descriptions, however fitting they may be. There just something about your smile that is indeed quite enchanting, a bit of faerie magic that’s a burst of sunshine in any storm. There are also those eyes, strangely common but they betray a kind of fire within you that burns brightly, a cheery and wild personality maybe. If I am wrong, please forgive my inference. There’s also this warmth that I observe from you, maybe it pertains to the warmth shared in a friendly hug, the warmth you bring into a room, the warmth that invites a friendly conversation or the warmth you share with your friends, I do not know for certain and maybe I shall not find out.

All I intend to do is to express my message, nothing further and nothing else. I shall also stop looking at you and for you, and I shall remain nothing but another shadow who hopelessly wonders why the light is so beautiful. Here I end this, this, whatever you may call it.

May you be blessed a fine life and continue to bring happiness into this world.
It is quite tiresome to look up into heaven, imagining what it’s like up there. Thankfully there you are. One look at you and I’m already in Heaven.

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