The Truth is Madness

Some Chaotic Writing About My Suicidal Depression and The Autism I suspect I have.

Wed, 15 May 2013 12:47:00 -0500

I wrote this on a forum I mod and frequent. I noticed a number of users suffering from depression, and was always stuck in silence when I tried to think of something to tell them. This is me breaking that silence. Hard.

This is obviously very long, so I want to explain what it is up here. I wrote it both because I want to try and get over some fear that I have been having, and because I know there are several of you going through suicidal depression, just as I have and probably still am. I have no idea if anything here will be of value to you, but if putting my pain on display will help you in the least, I leave this here. Starts off mainly about how I suspect that I am autistic, but will work its way to the depression stuff.

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I think I’m autistic. I feel that it would explain a lot of what I’ve been through in my life, and how I am now. The idea of finding out for certain terrifies me. I feel that, since it’s been on my mind a lot lately, I will use it as an excuse for my behavior at times, and I think I already am. I often can’t tell the difference between the excuses and the real problems already when it comes to my sleep apnea and severe depression. I don’t know if finding out will make that better or worse, or if will serve any purpose at all. What do I really have to expect from finding out? Will I become a different person? Will I have had a different life? Is it good to just treat myself as someone who is not autistic even if I am? Will I be judged for even considering it as a possibility? Wouldn’t it be humiliating if I did get checked out by a specialist and I wasn’t autistic? I don’t know. I don’t even seem to have the courage to look into it, which I think is part of why I’m throwing all this up here. Perhaps I can chip away at the fear by throwing it out in the open.

I already sort-of suggested it to my mother. We were discussing about job interviews and she was going on about eye contact. I can’t seem to hold it for very long. It makes me uncomfortable, and I find it easier to concentrate when I’m not looking. I forget what she said after I said something close to that, but I replied “Or I’m slightly autistic.” She got quiet for a second and replied “Well you said that, not me.” I can’t quite tell if she suspects it too, or she meant something I can’t see because I’m too involved with thinking that I am.

Then there is mysterious_ninja. She has been popping into the IRC lately, and multiple people are frustrated with her. She is 14, severely depressed, and autistic. I look at her, what she says, and the fact that she has 4 years of high school to go, and it destroys me inside for so many reasons. One is that I see her as a myself at her age, despite all the differences. She is aware of her autism, I wasn’t. She uses pain to mask her lack of purpose and meaning, I sought as many distractions as I could from my own thoughts. She is actively getting help, I had none what-so-ever. However, through even a short discussion, I could see the similarities.

The one that stuck out the most to me was the impossible expectations for our parents. She was apparently not eating, and was actively looking for her mom to notice, because the psychiatrist told her to look out for it. I try to explain, that you can’t expect that. You have to be as open as you can. Something that stuck out to me from an episode of House MD was a line Wilson said in regards to House’s parents, which more or less went “Watches your child become crippled is hard, but watching your child become miserable because of it is another thing all together.” Not only is MN going threw the depression, and possibly the hardest 4 years she will have in her lifetime, but her mother has to coup with that as well. She has to find the strength to help her child with something she can’t even understand herself, which can lead to not being as helpful as the child desires.

I went through similar experiences with my mother. She hated that I played World of Warcraft. She wanted me to stop playing the “stupid game” and spend time with her. I was always screaming in my head, “Why are you so blind? Why can’t you see that this is the only thing keeping me alive and you are calling it stupid? Can’t you see that I spend hours upon hours getting what little social interaction I can get from it that I couldn’t possibly acquire in real life? That I was able to forget who I was, the future people seem to expect me to have, and the numbing social anxiety that I experienced on a daily basis while I played the game? Why can’t you see past yourself and see what your child is going through?” She couldn’t because she is human. She isn’t going to look for the terrifying possibilities for my actions, she will look for the simple ones that are just frustrating.

I never said to anyone that I wanted to disappear. I never said that I wanted to go into an endless sleep. I never said that I had no reason to continue down what I only saw as an endless struggle for the sake of surviving. I was empty, and without purpose or meaning. I didn’t want to take my own life, as I felt I would be judged incorrectly. That I was seeking attention. That I was being dramatic, weak, or cowardly. Hell, I feared anyone knowing about it at all. I just wanted to quietly slip away. As if I never existed in the first place. No fuss. No pain. No anger. Just gone. I also didn’t want my parents to suffer, which I believe ultimately is what kept me away from it, and why it is so frustrating that I was that lucky, and so many other suicidal people are not.

I spent my entire public school experience just working on blending in. Being a ghost. I wanted as little attention as I could get. At times. I know now that couldn’t be entirely true. I wanted to be noticed at times, I needed it. I was human, not a ghost. Domesticated pets need attention to survive, and people are just as in need of it. We seem to be social creatures in nature. I just didn’t want to be… too noticed. I always liked the idea of school uniforms, because then it would have been so easy for me to blend in. One thing I’ve noticed about myself is I seem to reflect the way the people around me talk and act, to an extent. I think that is how I often coped with how I was, and why I still don’t have a handle on communicating in a group of several people. It’s easy enough to reflect one or maybe two people, but whole groups take time, and it becomes impossible for me with complete strangers. I just stay quiet. Quiet and still, trying to get through it, giving myself the excuse that interrupting is just a big pet peeve of mine.

I might not have ever really had a voice of my own, as I didn’t know what it was. I think that is what drove me to writing, as I get a chance to find my own voice. My own words. My own way of speaking. Not a reflection of someone near me. This is just a side note. Something I’ve noticed.

I’m not sure where to go from here. I have more things that lead me to believe I’m autistic, and more experiences with my suicidal depression I would like to share. I want to share them because I never have anything to say to suicidal people. I don’t know why I’m still here. I just am. What reason do I have to talk you out of what I wish that I had the ability to do? I seem to have gotten used to living without purpose, and have even starting hating the idea that there is a meaning to life. If there is an answer to “What is the meaning of life?” what purpose does it even serve? We don’t know it, and go on anyway. I’ve started to believe that we have to create the answer for ourselves. Find anchors to keep us from drifting away into the endless slumber. Not just one, but several meanings and purposes. The one that I have always had is my parents. I love them and would think myself a monster for even consider putting them through my suicide. Then there are my distractions. Video games, anime, movies, music, the internet, work, masturbation, and whatever else I can use to keep screaming so hard that my lungs hurt down to only once every few months.

I did eventually seek help. I had to. I was in my first year of college, and had survived high school on my own, but I was just numb. The walls I build up to keep the numbness have their week points, and they come crashing down quickly when it came to things involving my twin brother. Several of the worst, excruciating, painful, and destructive experiences of my life where caused by him, and not even remotely on purpose. He was living normally, and that may have been the root cause of my hatred towards him. He would do average teenager things, like have some real friends, some fake friends, parties at the house while the parents were gone, have sex, drink a bit, and just experience things. I meanwhile was just there. In my room. Wanting to forget. And there was this staggering, unavoidable reminder that I was abnormal. A reminder that I was less than him. A child compared to someone the exact same age as myself. Which is and was untrue, but emotions are irrational. And mind would go beyond irrational. I listened to him lose his virginity. It happened at the house while my parents where gone and he had friends over. They were loud, and the house was quiet, as we live in the country. That was easily the worst night of my life… and I can’t explain why. Perhaps some of the reasons I already mentioned explain it, but I just avoid thinking of it. I felt like I had another person inside my body while he was having a party. He had a great number of people over. I was just inside, trying to stay calm. I watched an episode of House MD, and then I had nothing to help. I was just there, sitting in hatred, rage, and other emotions I couldn’t explain and I had no idea why. I was okay with it in my own rational. If he wanted to have a party, fine. I will just take no part in it, as I don’t won’t to. But I couldn’t control myself. I felt like I wanted to kill everyone there. Just lose myself to my emotions to see if I could obtain some peace. But I had no desire to do this at all. It all felt like a foreign entity had entered my body and was driving me towards this. I tried beating my fist into the wall, cause some pain that I could deal with. Slam by head against the counter top in the bathroom. They were often things that I did. But I still couldn’t cope. I was just losing my mind in my room, trying to keep myself sane, which wasn’t possible. So I did the right thing. I ran away from the place. I got in my car and drove as fast down the interstate as I could, sobbing at fantasies that I was creating in my head. After several hours, I got back home. Still people there, but was more able to cope somehow.

In between those two events is when I had my breakdown. When I couldn’t be numb and hide my pain from everyone. I thought I heard my brother having sex again while our parents where gone, and started losing my mind. I wanted to get back at him, but not in a violent or truly problematic way. So I tried letting the air out of his tires. Just the idea seemed to had calmed me. While in the middle of doing so, he caught me. Demanding an explanation, I tried dismissing it as just a prank. He persisted, and I couldn’t come up with any lies. I ended up leaning on the hood of is car, telling him I hated him, but I had no idea why, then proceeded to start sobbing uncontrollably while letting out that I had wanted to kill myself for years. Any questions he had after that I could only answer with “I don’t know” or whatever nonsense reasons were rolling around in my head at the time. I went inside to try and take control, which I couldn’t, put on some sunglasses and went to the class, asking my brother not to say anything. He said he had already texted our older sister while I was in the house, but I just went on to school. I didn’t answer my phone when it range, I just went to class, keeping the glasses on and obviously not able to focus, but stayed until I could leave. My parents where there when I got home, and I unwillingly discussed it with them. I had made it through what I had felt was the worst of it, but there were reasons at the time that made me more sensitive to the situation, that I won’t bother going into detail. Basically, an attempt at starting a relationship (Which I had only attempted twice before, neither really even started, and nor did this one really) had left me feeling used and humiliated, but I was immature and had poor social skills, so it wasn’t like I was blameless, but afterwards I still had bottled up feelings that didn’t help me deal with the pre-breakdown.

That lead to me eventually having a few sessions with a “retired” psychiatrist, which I both enjoyed and was surprised by. The main surprise being that he seemed to talk a lot more than I did. Would tell me and discuss interesting things, which ranged from his opinion on the two halves of the brain idea, to just telling me the origin of the word “boss” for a reason I have long since forgotten. What I got from those sessions was fairly simple, and I think planted a seed in my mind. Basically, I needed to pursue passions. A good relationship, career, friends, sorts of things that aroused that emotion. Which seems obvious and inane from what I just listed, but it was just the seed. Depression is emptyness. Like in the recent Hyperbole and a Half, everything is nothing. Passion is the opposite. It drives you into living, waking up, and working in ways that don’t require purpose. The passion is the purpose. Passion is the anchor that keeps you here. And like everything else, I feel got lucky with it. During my internship at my college’s IT department, I think I was happy. I felt passion in the work I was doing. It didn’t seem meaningless, and I didn’t even search for the meaning. It didn’t feel like a distraction, but hell, maybe it is. Passion could just distract the depression the best way I have experienced.

Not to say that I am rid of it. I don’t think I ever will be. I am still numb, as I fear when my brother visits. He has a military career, and lives on the other side of the country, so I never have even the slightest bit of contact with him, so the walls of numbness remain strong.

I don’t know if this will mean anything to anyone else. I don’t know what will happen after I post this. I don’t know if anyone will bother to read it because it is so long and poorly written. I just felt, as I said before starting this, that I wanted to have something to say to those on here facing depression. I want to put my own pain on display, so maybe it can help somehow. Maybe you could learn from it. Maybe you will be even more frustrated because all I said really only pertained to me. I felt I had to say something, because I’m still alive. I’m working and keeping myself up the best I can for some reason. I wanted to try and find that reason, if it exists, and pass it along to those who need it. But that is all I feel I can say. Good luck finding your purpose. I feel that mine is the guilt I feel. I feel that my good fortune MUST go to some use. I want to help who I can because I am able to. Tossing it away would just be selfishness, and I don’t want to see myself as a monster.

Gonna go cry for awhile and/or try not to. I don’t know.

iu2: Coffee stain portrait by Hong Yi Amazing! To hell with...

Mon, 06 May 2013 17:43:22 -0500

iu2:

Coffee stain portrait by Hong Yi

Amazing!

To hell with putting something like this on the designated reblogging… blog. Hong Yi has to have a bit of madness in her to both think this up and execute it in such a fantastic way.

Tremendous news for me!

Tue, 23 Apr 2013 07:40:00 -0500

After roughly 1 and a half years, my best friend has made contact with me again. Happy, happy day.

The Truth and the Shape-Shifter: The Odd Dream

Sun, 17 Mar 2013 09:43:00 -0500

Okay… going to share the dream I had yesterday when I slept for 14 hours because it is too weird to me not to share.

tldr: I don’t always dream, but when I do, I fall in love with a shape-shifter and see some shit.

The dream starts off with my and my twin brother (I have a fraternal twin brother) going to an apartment (Which according to my dream brain: My sister owned, but didn’t use and just let people stay there) and it is maybe about 9PM and I will have to be at work in roughly an hour. We get there and there is a woman there… the best way I can describe it is say you take a Collector from Mass Effect two… but give it a soft human skin body and face, but sort of maintain the head shape and eyes. The next bit is somewhat blurring because I don’t think anything actually happened, but some of what I remember is she starts to look more normal looking, but she is covered in tattoos that are moving and changing as I look at her (she is shirtless and sitting on my lap for some reason as I watch the tattoos move around), she had an unspecific accent that I think was suppose to be Romanian (I don’t remember any talking happening, so my brain just decided she would have had an accent), and I find out that she has a boyfriend and is leaving town tomorrow.

Now for some reason I am completely in love with her. Like, so in love that eventually when I woke up I was very sad and depressed that she was a creation of my dream brain… Though I have no idea why. But anyway I go to work and am obsessing over her while I am there. When I got off of work and go to my car I run into a group of people (lots of men and woman my age or a somewhat older) that my dream brain decided I recognized immediately because we were such great pals at some point. They want me to come with them to see this movie with them which had a very sci-fiy title and I would have apparently love to come see it with them, but I told them about the woman I had just fallen in love with and how I just had to go see if she was still at my sister’s place so I could see if she was all that serious with her boyfriend. So they let me go, and it cuts to the morning in a small kitchen where apparently the group of people are all waking up with hang overs and start arguing with each other.

Now it goes back to me (And it is the middle of the night again), and I’m running around in a place trying to turn the lights on, because it is pitch black. I try several switches, and none work until I find a bigger white one and press it down. The lights come on and apparently it is a restaurant that my sister owns/lives at (The living space was like… in the back and not part of the restaurant at all). I leave immediately as I realize my mistake, and soon end up at the apartment and I’m struggling to turn the lights on again. I’m stumbling around the house and end up in a small room with a working light, but it is clear that she isn’t there. I don’t really remember what happened after that, but it involved a couple of old people very similar to Whitey and Eleanore Duvall from 8 Crazy Nights being that the apartment with me.

I am aware that I am not posting at all. Having a bit of a dry...

Mon, 03 Dec 2012 03:19:11 -0600

I am aware that I am not posting at all. Having a bit of a dry spell in more than one area in my life. Will try to at least gets some drafts going soon. Here is some inspirational reggae from Matisyahu in the mean time.

Marathon Live Streaming Today!

Thu, 25 Oct 2012 08:50:39 -0500

Marathon Live Streaming Today!:

I normally don’t advertise my streaming sessions on here, since I do that pretty at random since I have to be in the right mood to do it. And it would clog up my blog since I don’t post that much. Today, however, I am doing a marathon stream for a good 15 and a half hours, going to at least midnight in central time. I’m well equipped with energy drinks, nuts, soup, and other goodies. And the pants will remain off.

Stream is up and running right now. Will be going until at least midnight, maybe longer depending on if anyone is even around at that time. It should be a good time for me at least, so feel free to drop by for even a second.

I even have a list of games that you can request for me to play and rant while playing if you would like. Here is the list.

hardingmeyer: (9-2012) oil on canvas 120x150cm _ _ Would like...

Wed, 05 Sep 2012 11:58:41 -0500

hardingmeyer:

(9-2012)

oil on canvas

120x150cm

_

_

Would like to point out that this blog is one of my followers. I find that to be insanity. Here is a person(s) who create beautiful works of art, and I write silly stuff and recommendations for anime and video games. I have other blogs that mildly baffle me in the same way… I’ll be sure and reblog some of their stuff as well. Oh. An idea struck me while writing that. What better way to thank the influx of new followers than to reblog some of their stuff and write about them a bit? I could do that.

Would also like to say that these paintings really are beautiful. I have no way to convey my appreciation for it in words, as I’m not quite an art person, but if I had a wall that didn’t already have stuff on it, these would be a strong consideration for occupying that space. Hmm. That compliment seemed very underwhelming… Well, people will be able to see for themselves how great these paintings are. They don’t need my input to appreciate it.

Whelp. Got another good influx of new users, and I’m not...

Tue, 04 Sep 2012 09:51:38 -0500

Whelp. Got another good influx of new users, and I’m not posting anything again. So since I don’t really have anything to write about at the moment, how about I share a song or two that I have been listening to lately? I need more of Beck’s music. Is a great artist.

Again, I don’t reblog much at all. Try to create content....

Mon, 27 Aug 2012 10:09:28 -0500

Again, I don’t reblog much at all. Try to create content. I had to reblog this though. I just… had to. GET YOUR ASS BACK FROM MEXICO WOMAN!

I did a bit of work on an old post I made about Mushi-shi

Sun, 26 Aug 2012 07:50:54 -0500

I did a bit of work on an old post I made about Mushi-shi:

I’ve been rewatching the series again because it has been long enough for me to once again enjoy the beauty of this very well made anime. In an effort to get more people to watch it, I have this post which I wrote awhile back, but from reading it again, it needed work. So, I did some touching up, mainly in the part that I try to explain Mushi in a sensible way that isn’t paraphrasing what Ginko says about them. Hopefully this will inspire me to soon make post just like this, but better for Cowboy Bebop and Monster, as those 2 are probably the only animes that I love more than Mushi-shi.

Thank you so much for reblogging the picture of my hair! :-D

Wed, 22 Aug 2012 22:39:48 -0500

You’re very welcome! And thank you for having amazing hair.

One of my favorite levels/songs of Sound Shapes.

Mon, 13 Aug 2012 08:50:00 -0500

One of my favorite levels/songs of Sound Shapes.

The Truth Advises: Do not try bread and butter pickles. You...

Sat, 11 Aug 2012 11:51:51 -0500

The Truth Advises: Do not try bread and butter pickles. You may think to yourself “Why am I eating ‘kosher’ food? I’m not Jewish. What else is here?” Don’t reach for this monstrosity of that bares the name pickles. Pickles are suppose to be delicious. These are only fit for the spawn of Satan. Slowly placing them on the tongues of the eternally damned; making them beg for the lava pits.

Damned things ruined 2 perfectly good sandwiches… 2 because I was worried it was the tomato slice the first time. How foolish I felt for thinking that after I ate a slice by itself and had my body reject it by immediately vomiting up as many internal organs as it could.

Time for a not so quick recommendation. Sound Shapes. I both...

Fri, 10 Aug 2012 21:51:00 -0500

Time for a not so quick recommendation. Sound Shapes.

I both found out about and purchased this game yesterday. I love it. It is a platformer centered around creating music, and it creates some beautiful music, through the great help of I’m a Robot and Proud, Beck, Deadmau5, and Jim Guthrie. I wish I could buy the soundtrack and listen to it all day. Another thing I love about the game is the various art styles, which provide the perfect feel for the level and the music. During my live playing of my first go through of the game, I had to stop and take a short period of time to appreciate the wide smile on my face. It is fun, innovative, and plain brilliant. Another game a PS3 owner must acquire sooner rather than later. There is also a level creation feature, but the game has only been available for about 3 days, so the community has yet to build anything respectable from the handful that I played so far, but if Little Big Planet is any indication, great things will come.

For those who read this and do not have a PS3, I highly recommend at the very least watching some of the gameplay, either on Youtube or on my livestream channel.

Here is the launch trailer, if you wish to see the general look of the game and some of the gameplay. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MnAqTfOD674

A Game at Dinner. Another Story from The many books in Elder Scrolls.

Thu, 09 Aug 2012 11:56:03 -0500

A Game at Dinner

by An Anonymous Spy

A spy’s observations upon poison making and a dinner party

Forward From The Publisher:

The history behind this letter is almost as interesting and dark as the story it tells. The original letter to the mysterious Dhaunayne was copied and began circulating around the Ashlands of Vvardenfell a few months ago. In time, a print found its way to the mainland and Prince Hlaalu Helseth’s palace outside Almalexia. While the reader may conclude after reading this letter that the Prince would be furious about such a work, impugning his highness with great malevolence, quite the reverse was true. The Prince and his mother, Queen Barenziah, had it privately printed into bound copies and sent to libraries and booksellers throughout Morrowind.

As matter of record, the Prince and the Queen have not officially stated whether the letter is a work of pure imagination or based on an actual occurrence. The House Dres has publicly denounced the work, and indeed, no one named Dhaunayne, despite the suggestions in the letter, has ever been linked to the house. We leave the reader to interpret the letter as he or she believes.

— Nerris Gan, Publisher

Dark Liege Dhaunayne,

You asked for a detailed description of my experience last night and the reasons for my plea to House Dres for another assignment. I hope I have served you well in my capacity as informant in the court of Prince Helseth, a man who I have stated in many previous reports could teach Molag Bal how to scheme. As you know, I’ve spent nearly a year now working my way into his inner circle of advisors. He was in need of friendship when he first arrived in Morrowind and eagerly took to me and a few others. Still, he was disinclined to trust any of us, which is perhaps not surprising, given his tenuous position in Morrowind society.

For your unholiness’s recollection, the Prince is the eldest son of Barenziah, who was once the Queen of Morrowind and once the Queen of the High Rockkingdom of Wayrest. At the death of her husband, Prince Helseth’s stepfather, King Eadwyre, there was a power struggle between the Prince and Eadwyre’s daughter, the Princess Elysana. Though details of what transpired are imperfect, it is clear that Elysana won the battle and became Queen, banishing Helseth and Barenziah. Barenziah’s only other child, Morgiah, had already left court to marry and become Queen of the Summurset Isle kingdom of Firsthold.

Barenziah and Helseth crossed the continent to return to Morrowind only last year. They were well received by Barenziah’s uncle, our current king, Athyn Llethan, who had taken the throne after Barenziah’s abdication more than forty years ago. Barenziah made it clear that she had no designs on reclaiming the throne, but merely to retire to her family estates. Helseth, as you know, has lingered in the royal court, and many have whispered that while he lost the throne of Wayrest, he does not intend to lose the throne of Morrowind at Llethan’s death.

I’ve kept your unholiness informed of the Prince’s movements, meetings, and plots, as well as the names and characters of his other advisors. As you may recall, I’ve often thought that I was not the only spy in Helseth’s court. I told you before that a particular Dunmer counselor of Helseth looked like a fellow I had seen in the company of Tholer Saryoni, the Archcanon of the Tribunal Temple. Another, a young Nord woman, has been verified to visit the Imperial fortress in Balmora. Of course, in their cases, they might well have been on Helseth’s own business, but I couldn’t be certain. I had begun to think myself paranoid as the Prince himself when I found myself doubting the sincere loyalty of the Prince’s chamberlain, Burgess, a Breton who had been in his employ since his days in the court of Wayrest.

That is the background on that night, last night.

Yesterday morning, I received a curt invitation to dine with the Prince. Based only on my own paranoia, I dispatched one of my servants, who is a good and loyal servant of the House Dres, to watch the palace and report back anything unusual. Just before dinner, he returned and told me what he had witnessed.

A man cloaked in rags had been given entrance into the palace, and had stayed there for some time. When he left, my servant saw his face beneath the cloak — an alchemist of infamous repute, said to be a leading suppliers of exotic poisons. A fine observer, my servant also noticed that the alchemist entered the palace smelling of wickwheat, bittergreen, and something alien and sweet. When he left, he was odorless.

He had come to the same conclusion as I did. The Prince had procured ingredients to prepare a poison. Bittergreen alone is deadly when eaten raw, but the other ingredients suggested something far deeper. As your unholiness can doubtless [sic] imagine, I went to dinner that night, prepared for any eventuality.

All of Prince Helseth’s other counselors were in attendance, and I noticed that all were slightly apprehensive. Of course, I imagined that I was in a nest of spies, and all knew of the Prince’s mysterious meeting. It is just as likely that some knew of the alchemist’s visit, while others were simply concerned by the nature of the Prince’s invitation, and still others merely unconsciously adopted the tense disposition of their fellow, better informed counselors.

The Prince, however, was in fine mettle and soon had everyone relaxed and at ease. At nine, we were all ushered into his dining hall where the feast had been laid out. And what a feast! Honeyed gorapples, fragrant stews, roasts in various blood sauces, and every variety of fish and fowl expertly and ostentatiously prepared. Crystal and gold flagons of wine, flin, shein, and mazte were at our seats to be savored as appropriate with each course. As tantalizing as the aromas were, it occurred to me that in such a maze of spices and flavors, a discreet poison would be undetectable.

Throughout the meal, I maintained the illusion of eating the food and drinking the liquor, but I was surreptitious and swallowed nothing. Finally, the plates and food were cleared from the table, and a tureen of a spicy broth was placed in the center of the banquet. The servant who brought it then retired, closing the banquet hall door behind him.

“It smells divine, my Prince,” said the Marchioness Kolgar, the Nord woman. “But I cannot eat another thing.”

“Your Highness,” I added, feigning a tone of friendliness and slight intoxication. “You know that every one at this table would gladly die to put you on the throne of Morrowind, but is it really necessary that we gorge ourselves to death?”

The others at the table agreed with appreciative groans. Prince Helseth smiled. I swear by Vaernima the Gifter, my dark liege, even you have never seen a smile such as this one.

“Ironic words. You see, an alchemist visited me today, as some of you already doubtless know. He showed me how to make a marvelous poison and its antidote. A most potent potion, excellent for my purposes. No Restoration spell will aid you once you’ve ingested it. Only the antidote in the tureen will save you from certain death. And what a death, from what I’ve heard. I am eager to see if the effects are all that the alchemist promised. It should be horribly painful for the afflicted, but quite entertaining.”

No one said a word. I could feel my heart beating hard in my chest.

“Your Highness,” said Allarat, the Dunmer I suspected of alliance with the Temple. “Have you poisoned someone at this table?”

“You are very astute, Allarat,” said Prince Helseth, looking about the table, eying each of his advisors carefully. “Little wonder I value your counsel. As indeed I value all in this room. It would be perhaps easiest for me to say who I haven’t poisoned. I haven’t poisoned any who serve but one master, any whose loyalty to me is sincere. I haven’t poisoned any person who wants to see King Helseth on the throne of Morrowind. I haven’t poisoned anyone who isn’t a spy for the Empire, the Temple, the House of Telvanni, the House of Redoran, the House of Indoril, the House of Dres.”

Your unholiness, he looked directly at me at his last words. I know that in certainty. My face is practiced at keeping my thoughts from showing, but I immediately thought of every secret meeting I’ve had, every coded message I sent to you and the House, my dark liege. What could he know? What could he, even without knowing, suspect?

I felt my heart beating even faster. Was it fear, or poison? I couldn’t speak, certain as I was that my voice would betray my calm facade.

“Those loyal to me who wish harm on my enemies may be wondering how can I be certain that the poison has been ingested. Is it possible that the guilty party, or dare I say, parties were suspicious and merely pretended to eat and drink tonight? Of course. But even the craftiest of pretenders would have to raise a glass to his or her lips and put empty forks or spoons in their mouths to play the charade. The food, you see, was not poisoned. The cups and cutlery were. If you did not partake out of fear, you’re poisoned just the same, and sadly, missed an excellent roast.”

Sweat beaded on my face and I turned from the Prince so he would not see. My fellow advisors, all of them, were frozen in their seats. From the Marchioness Kolgar, white with fear, to Kema Inebbe, visibly shaking; from the furrowed, angry brow of Allarat to the statue-like stare of Burgess.

I couldn’t help thinking then, could the Prince’s entire counsellorship be comprised of nothing but spies? Was there any person at the table loyal? And then I thought, what if I were not a spy myself, would I trust Helseth to know that? No one knows better than his advisors both the depth of the Prince’s paranoia and the utter implacability of his ambition. If I were not a spy for the House Dres, even then would I be safe? Could a loyalist be poisoned because of a not-so-innocent misjudgment?

The others must have been thinking the same, loyalists and spies alike.

While my mind whirled, I could hear the Prince’s voice, addressing all assembled: “The poison acts quickly. If the antidote is not taken within one minute from now, there will be death at the table.”

I couldn’t decide whether I had been poisoned or not. My stomach ached, but I reminded myself it might have been the result of sitting at a sumptuous banquet and not partaking. My heart shook in my chest and a bitter taste like Trama Root stung my lips. Again, was it fear or poison?

“These are the last words you will hear if you are disloyal to me,” said Prince Helseth, still smiling that damned smile as he watched his advisors squirming in their seats. “Take the antidote and live.”

Could I believe him? I thought of what I knew of the Prince and his character. Would he kill a self-confessed spy at his court, or would he rather send the vanquished back to his masters? The Prince was ruthless, but either possibility was within his manner. Surely the theatricality of this whole dinner was meant to be a presentation to instill fear. What would my ancestors say if I joined them after sitting at a table, eventually dying of poison? What would they say if I took the antidote, confessing my allegiance to you and the House Dres, and was summarily executed? And, I confess, I thought of what you might to do me even after I was dead.

I had grown so light-headed and filled with my own thoughts, that I didn’t see Burgess jump from his seat. I was only suddenly aware that he had the tureen in his hands and was gulping down the liquid within. There were guards all around, though I never noticed them entering.

“Burgess,” said Prince Helseth, still smiling. “You have spent some time at Ghostgate. House Redoran?”

“You didn’t know?” Burgess laughed sourly. “No House. I report to your stepsister, the Queen of Wayrest. I’ve always been in her employ. By Akatosh, you poisoned me because you thought I was working for some damnable Dark Elves?”

“You’re half right,” said the Prince. “I didn’t guess who you were working for, or even that you were a spy. But you’re also wrong about me poisoning you. You poisoned yourself when you drank from the tureen.”

Your unholiness, you don’t need to hear how Burgess died. I know that you have seen much over the many, many years of your existence, but you truly don’t want to know. I wish I could erase the memory of his agonies from my own mind.

The council was dismissed shortly thereafter. I do not know if Prince Helseth knows or suspects that I too am a spy. I do not know how many others that night, last night, were as close as I was from drinking from the tureen before Burgess did. I only know that if the Prince does not suspect me now, he will. I cannot win at the games he mastered long ago at the court of Wayrest, and I beg your unholiness, my dark liege Dhaunayne to use your influence in the House Dres and dismiss your loyal servant from this charge.

Publisher’s Note:Of course, the anonymous writer’s signature has not been on any reprint of the letter since the original.

Don’t have anything to post again. So here is more music....

Wed, 08 Aug 2012 16:40:00 -0500

Don’t have anything to post again. So here is more music. I won’t cry listening to this… but my eyes get pretty watery.

This needed to be on my blog.

Tue, 07 Aug 2012 11:51:02 -0500

This needed to be on my blog.

Hmm. Wonder what would happen...

Mon, 06 Aug 2012 11:43:37 -0500

My PSN ID is spenckem.

You should add me, random Tumblr person.

One of the songs I must say that I love and keep forgetting...

Sun, 05 Aug 2012 11:51:31 -0500

One of the songs I must say that I love and keep forgetting about. I should watch this movie. Only watched it back in grade school, when I couldn’t understand anything if I tried. Now I can really know what is going on and appreciate it!

myampgoesto11: Oh hey 13,000 followers, endless...

Sun, 05 Aug 2012 08:23:44 -0500

myampgoesto11:

Oh hey 13,000 followers, endless high-fives!!!

I don’t have anywhere close to that, but I just acquired a 50th follower and I wish to celebrate it. So, I am slightly high jacking this endless highfive to pass it along to my followers.

… Would good to mention myampgoesto11.tumblr.com, as well. Since it is a brilliant blog. One of the best on Tumblr. Check that stuff out.