subliminal messages

CAUTION: This story is more of a therapy for me to get over the remains of my fears of sabotage and death than for the reader, so read on ONLY IF YOU’RE INTERESTED. Otherwise, go do something else. There, I warned you.

A teenage boy sits at home, sick from school, browsing the web when he encounters some disturbing content. The blood drains from his face as he frantically scrambles for the tiny boxed X in the corner of his window. It’s over in a millisecond, but not in his mind. His screen goes blank but the sights and sounds are burned deep into the inner regions of his brain. He will never be the same again nor will his world around. Blaming his bad luck, he tries to rationalize his traumatic experience. Nevertheless he eyes his computer warily one last time before shutting down…

Two days later, he is once again situated in front of his computer, alone at home, sick from school, again. Determined to beat his newly acquired fear, he attempts another brave venture into the depths of cyberspace, hoping that ample exposure to safe, humorous content will be his cure. As luck would have it, his luck is bad once again. And as a result, he is once again hit with a more disturbing set of sights and sounds to add to his quickly growing fear. Events repeat themselves and bad luck strikes again, much like the behaviour of lightning, in the same place with the same conditions. Needless to say, his fear becomes a full blown phobia that soon consumes most, if not all of his waking thoughts.

At school, his friends immediately notice a radical change in the boy’s demeanour after his more than slightly disturbing experiences. Interestingly enough, it is the ignorant who strive to share these experiences of fear and utter horror, “just for the hell of it”. All the boy speaks of is the sheer terror of his experiences and all the others ask of him is the link?!

“Hm... They deserve it.” he thinks to himself.

The night is Saturday, 2 days/nights after his second attack and 4 after his first. “It’s 10 pm; do you know where your children are?” He is scared to even look at his tattered image in the mirror. Now, he is scarred beyond repair.

Earlier that day, he was trying his method of ridding himself of his fears once again when he finally admitted defeat after being bombarded with horrible screams and images of abominations too graphic to describe. On the edge of insanity and in the middle of paranoia, he tries in to clear his mind of these haunting thoughts. It is in the quiet yet frightening loneliness of silent meditation that he admits to his fears. It is also the very confines in which he has a revelation.

“I just want to get mugged at knifepoint, to get cut enough to wake me up.”
- This Week the Trend - Relient K

Frankly, I don’t know what compelled me to write this slightly over the top interpretation of what happened to me but I’d like to think of it as a chance for me to share my thoughts. If you don’t like this post, well… I guess you’re shafted because it’s a little too late to un-read my story. All I can say is sorry for eating so much of your time. This story is more of a therapy for me, like I stated at the top, so if you’re angry at me and want a refund on your last 10 – 100 minutes (depending on your reading speed), I’m not liable for your wasted time... pfft, sucker.