Invisible Ink

What is the secret to breaking through everything?

Addictions and bad habits are traps. They hold us and deny us our freedom. They prevent us from doing the necessary stuff that life throws at us. We're allowed to continue living because it benefits the parasite. It's sad, really, because some of us go through life without ever knowing of it's existence. It emits an analgesic toxin that allows us to stay in denial.

I find it okay to allow a separation between myself and my parasites. It's so easy to identify with and falsely believe that you are the bad one, that you could have taken measures to have prevented the infection. Unfortunately parasites are part of the natural world, as natural as living and dying, and I know that I'm just as vulnerable as anyone else.


Certain times I minimize the severity of my situation, making excuses. The habit requires a continued existence and has the ability to manipulate it's host to insure nothing comes in the way of that. Help is for crazy people, and you're not crazy right? So I've tried handling it on my own, only to find in the end that it is impossible without assistance. It preys on your fears. It reminds you that you're afraid of how others perceive you. As a people-pleaser, it's almost impossible for me to make really difficult decisions.

The entertainer is naturally a people-pleaser. It's what seems to drive him.

I say I don't care what others think of me, but it has to be a lie. It's something I tell myself over and over, trying to convince my psyche to believe it. The truth is that I have no idea how to fully be 'normal.' Does anyone really? I know that I try to conceal my flaws. My invisible ink only appears under specific conditions.

Society seems to frown upon originality and uniqueness. It's a foreign invader! As I grow up I notice myself hating current music more and more. Every generation seems to do this. New things are alien to adults. It's something you can't fully understand unless you finally reach that point. "If it ain't broke, don't fix it," is for comfort. I've yearned to understand this world, to come up with the answers to the questions. It's frustrating to find out that the old method, the way you used to live is no longer applicable and you have to adapt yet again.


Quiet Cabin
by Deede Denton

There's a quiet, cozy cabin in the woods that I've been searching for my whole life. Every time I think I've finally found it, I then make a futile attempt to keep it forever. I fight nature and always end up losing. Trees fall on the roof. Termites eat through the walls. Flooding, tornadoes, forest fires, grizzly bears, earthquakes, avalanches, blizzards, and the occasional volcano eruption. Eventually I'm forced to move out with tears of sorrow and discouragement in my eyes.


Time traveling to the subjective past can be an unhealthy addiction. I've used it as a coping mechanism, a means of escape, the euphoric rush of a fantastic and ideal world that no longer exists. It has it's place, much like the infinite future trajectories. It's not often that I arrive exactly at the location I previously visited in my mind, since the iterations of the future are mind-bogglingly numerous, though it can get pretty close. The time travel practice can provide us hope and temporary relief, but with anything like that you have to be careful not to exceed the recommended dosage or else you'll suffer the consequences.

And by itself I know that this activity is not a cure for my parasites. Just a tool, not the solution. Help is a tool. Ultimately though, only I can purge them from myself.

- Ether