Posted in SteelRazor

59: Blinding Carnage

Order from Chaos. Creation from destruction. Life from death.

But pain… breeds nothing but more pain. It gnaws through the threads of emotions pulled taut around the heart. It closes around my chest, with its iron fingers, and slowly crushes the poor little being that is me.

They call out to me, asking what is wrong. Are you okay? Do you have a problem? Oh, yes I do. And it’s impossible to escape. if you want to help, well… it’s far too late. My soul has fallen into disrepair, the pain and lies gnashing at it every second. At times, they let up on me, when I’m busy. But when I’m beside her, the monstrosity rears back and slashes across me with such force that it shatters my soul.

My body disconnects from my emotions. I become two separate beings – one that is fighting the relentless creature within me, and the other trying hard to veil the pain that is in me.

I cannot see the light anymore. This endless carnage has blinded me. And my last hope for resurrection has been extinguished, leaving behind the tattered remains of my final ray of light. My hope, ripped to shreds and discarded.

This is the ravaged EnglishRazor, leaving for hell.

Posted in SteelRazor

58: Resumed Pain

Once again, it is night. The time I dread the most, for the most fearsome beast I have encountered will awaken again and threaten to consume me.

As my head rests on my pillow, I prepare my arsenal for battle. An armload of songs that will bring on the hurt. The beast lumbers closer. I must act fast. My fingers fly across the screen, selecting a new weapon for tonight’s battle. These… are the same songs that roused the beast from its sleep several hours ago. But to release it then in front of four people would be catastrophic, so using my powerful will, I reined in the beast.

But now, it will not rest. The earphones are plugged. The songs are playing. And I lie and wait as the beast turns. It is confused at the new weapon firing at it. But seconds later, the song makes its impact. I flinch, mimicking the beast’s moves. It strains against the pain and fights back, crushing my chest in a painful hug. But I do not waver. The beast is too strong… I unleash a new weapon – a memory. A new but lethal one that strikes deep into the beast. As it howls, a tear escapes from my eye.

The pain is unbearable, but I throw more memories – digging deep into the beast while the songs pummel it. And I can’t take the crushing pain anymore. I cry. A river of tears flow down the side of my face, like the waterfall of hurtful memories crashing down on the beast.

Finally, it calms down. The monster shrinks, and I pick it up. My raging emotions are now calm, quiet. I caress the thing, peacefully resting. My eyes fall on my phone and end the playlist. It will be a while before my self-torture will begin again.

This is the EnglishRazor, who has painfully endured another night of suffering.

Posted in Stories

57: The World’s Greatest Composer

18-year old Amadeus Chandler gingerly removed his cherished Yankees cap and settled it on his bed, opening the window curtains. For 18 months, he had been living in a decrepit dormitory in California. It was built on high ground, giving Amadeus a majestic view of the sparkling Pacific Ocean. He was obliged to stay in the western state for his thorough geological research on the San Andreas Fault. The work was difficult – setting up seismometers, taking readings every now and then, and gathering and analyzing the day-to-day data. Truth to be told, his heart really wasn’t in it.

The sunlight shone into his room, brightening the gloomy indoors. The morning rays lit up the picture of his family resting on the desk next to his bed. He moved over and picked up the photo gingerly. It was a shot of his family back at New York City. His grinning father was wearing a tuxedo with coattails, while his stern mother was wearing a glamorous red dress that went all the way down to the polished hardwood floor of the mansion. And there he was, little Amadeus, pointing his father’s baton at the cameraman as if it was a magician’s wand. Behind them, there rested the apple of his eye – the majestic grand piano that his father had bought years ago. The memory of the grand piano made his shoulders sag. It had been a year and a half since his fingers last danced on the ivory keys of the piano. Then a few hours alter, with his meager belongings packed in a traveling suitcase, he had left for California at his mother’s urging. Mercedita Chandler wanted her son to become a world-renowned geologist, much like her father.

The teenager wanted so bad to feel those smooth keys under his grasp again. His ears yearned for each of the lovely tunes yielded by the piano. His eyes wanted to rest on the shiny instrument and find that little scratch he made with the baton.

“I cannot go back… I cannot disappoint my mama.” Amadeus hung his head. But looking at the grand piano in the picture once again, he remembered an old memory that his father had told him.

“You are a musician. That is why I named you Amadeus, after the world’s greatest composer. Our family had always been musicians. Never forget, my son. Follow your heart. Seek what will make you happy, not what will make others happy.” Beethoven had pushed his favorite Yankees cap into little Amadeus’ hands and left for Europe. Later that day, Beethoven Chandler’s plane crashed into the Atlantic Ocean.

Amadeus picked up the Yankees cap. He decided that he wanted to enjoy his life, not being a slave to his mother’s wishes. He called his roommates camping at San Andreas Fault to tell them that he was going to leave for New York. He was going to return to his old friend and resume his true nature. After all, he is Amadeus Chandler.

Posted in SteelRazor

56: Claustrophobia

I’m home everyone, after a very tiresome day with my annoying little sister (no, not my biological sister). She dragged me around with her friends, made me carry the take-out bag from some restaurant, I forgot which one, and otherwise made me feel left out. But… it’s meh. Like my motto goes, “no hard feelings.” Hard feelings will make it difficult to communicate with the person you cherish.

Right! Enough chessy stuff. (Get it? Because Cheska, cheesy… Chessy? Ugh… that was bad even for my standards.) When I got home, I charged my phone right away (I ran out of battery in Rockwell) and checked my Messenger and WordPress. In Messenger, three messages: one from Cheska, one from Ella, and another from How Dip Is Ur Luv (groupchat name; long story). Anyway, I noticed that nii-chan had posted a new blog post about himself again, which was quite intriguing. After a few minutes, I was delving into his latest post about claustrophilia – the opposite of my claustrophobia.

So? What if I already have hemophobia? There’s no rule against having multiple phobias, is there?!

If claustrophilia is the attraction to closed spaces, then claustrophobia is the fear of closed spaces. I have a bit of that, though I can ride elevators well (as long as it ain’t full). To be honest, I have no idea where my claustrophobia originated, must be from a bad event during my childhood that I can’t remember anymore.

What does it feel like to be claustrophobic? I’ll explain it in a given situation. For example, you and your friends are going to La Salle for CS training, and you’re seated in the back row, and you’re so cramped there you can’t even move your legs, your claustro-fear will kick in. (See what I did there? Legs? Kick in?) To me, it feels as if my lungs are filling with something solid and I can’t breathe properly, and I have an almost irresistible urge to thrash around to make more space. As I grew older, I managed to control this thrashing, but the urge is still there whenever I’m in a cramped space. In an attempt to make more space, I push against the car windows and lean back in my seat to make the illusion of a wider area in front. Or I can just close my eyes and focus on my breathing. The latter usually does the trick.

So there you go, nii-chan. What a claustrophobic person has in mind. Sometimes, it’s cool to have a best friend who’s your polar opposite, because you get to see things from a completely different perspective. Well, this is your claustrophobic EnglishRazor, closing in. (Bad pun.)

Posted in SteelRazor

55: A Suicide Note

A cheerful day, my loyal subordinates. Yes, anyone who reads this is now under the domain of my powerful empire, etc. All that gibberish that I would have said… if I was sane.

Truth to be told, my sanity is long gone. I began losing it when my life began going downhill. That would be… Grade 8, yes. It continued to slope down, pulling me with it. But sometime during Grade 9, the fall stopped, and I found myself on level ground again… but not for long. And since then, the slope has become steeper and even more treacherous. Whenever I look down, I see the gaping maw of pure darkness that will soon swallow me.

In a nutshell: I am suffering from depression.

Alright, stop smirking and saying “Tss, he thinks he’s the only one. I’ve suffered worse.” I wasn’t saying any of that. And my depression is different. Somehow.

I control my depression, forcing it to make me suffer more than I should. Even greater suffering and pain that I find comfort in. To be honest, I would rather get hurt than to be happy. Happiness never lasts long, and when it ends, there is a void that fills its absence. But in pain, well… it’s always there. It doesn’t go away. All things yield pain.

Instant death or clinical death is not the only form of suicide, I say. The death of one’s soul, leaving behind an empty human shell, is suicide.

Picking off the hurtful words thrown at me by people, stabbing it a bit deeper into my soul. Replaying all the memories that I cherished so much, leaving me with a painful crushing sensation in my chest. Standing in the shadow of my friends, slowly getting eaten by the darkness below me.

Ah, that’s enough crap for today, I guess. This is your pain-loving SteelRazor, taking a short rest.

Posted in SteelRazor

54: Shake

It’s a calm midnight here, everyone. Like what you might expect, yours truly is having trouble sleeping again. I kept turning in my bed, trying to find a comfortable position in vain. After an hour, I gave up and listened to music.

My mind drifted quite far, my mixed feelings acting as a sort of beacon for my thoughts to home in to. When mind and heart are one, well… I’d say there’s no escaping the turmoil released. As the heart lets the churning emotions lash out, the mind burrows deep into the recesses of the brain, hooking up old, rusty memories, polished to painful vividness. For another hour, I lay in bed, helplessly replaying the hurt-filled memories I had worked so hard to bury under piles and piles of lies.

It shook me bad, and a very recent memory surfaced-the movie San Andreas. It was about how the San Andreas Fault in California generated an earthquake with a 9.6 on the Richter Scale and spawning a massive tsunami that devastated the already-devastated city. As an aspiring geologist, I took it upon myself to learn much about earthquakes as early as Grade 6.

The planet’s crust is a thin layer of rock floating on a sea of magma known as the mantle. But the crust is not one mega-sized shell covering the mantle. It is divided into several partitions, known as tectonic plates. Our country is situated at the boundary of two such plates, the Pacific plate and the Philippine plate. When two plates slide past each other, they don’t always go smooth. The mega rock gets stuck, but the plate has to keep moving, so pressure builds up at the stuck point.

When the rock decides that it had enough, it suddenly slips, creating underground shock waves that travel to the surface. These waves are what causes the ground to shake. The point underground where the stress was released is called the focus, while the point directly above it at sea level is the epicenter.

Earthquakes are scary, but they fascinate me. The destruction it can wreak is massive, sure, but the pure energy of it is overwhelmingly amazing. But that doesn’t mean I want it to happen here. (Well… yeah, no.) I still value my friends.

I wonder how long my soul can hold out until it releases all this pressure in me. Hopefully, I won’t have to. This is your quake-loving future geologist, SteelRazor, rocking away.

*Also, there’s a proper term for people who study earthquakes-they’re called seismologists.

Posted in SteelRazor

53: You’re Welcome

Why is it so hard for some people to express their gratitude? Is it really that hard to utter two words of thankfulness, or at least a simple “t.y.”? I mean, someone asks you for a piece of paper. You hand it to them and they strut away as if no one gave them that paper.

Stupid little ungrateful bastards. At least the guys know how to say “thank you”. Rex, bless him, even throws in more than just a simple thank you. You must be asking, then why doesn’t he just stop being selfless?

Yeah… good point. Why don’t we do that?

You selfish retard. You cannot fight your nature. Don’t you always feel obliged to help anyone in need.

Fine. I get your point.

Gratitude is something I do not take lightly. If I give you something, as long as you say thank you, I’ll be content with that. I know you only see me when you need me, but at leaat let me feel as if you’re treating me like a human being that deserves a token of gratitude.

This is your grateful SteelRazor, over and out.

Posted in SteelRazor

52: Isfet

He is no magician, nor half-blood. But he feels the same turmoil. Something writhing inside him, tearing his soul apart. Eating away at his heart, fighting to turn him insane. The snake, beast, creature, whatever it is that is slowly wasting him-is working hard. But he cannot fall now. Not yet, at least.

There it is again, the familiar ache in his chest, as if a giant steel hand was crushing his heart. It intensifies as he urges on, oblivious to the aftereffects of his self-torture. He could be left alone without anyone to comfort him in the end. But then again, that is what he wants. Pain. Suffering. Torment. Chaos. Preferably eternal.  He wants his soul crushed and buried so deep, no one will ever get him back again.

Even that one ray of light that could have saved him-that one string of hope-had turned out to be a deathly strike, pushing him further instead of pulling him up. Tired, tired, tired… so tired, he moans.

Even Carter Kane couldn’t have felt this much.

At least he had Horus to keep his mind intact. But I don’t have a god in my head… just my other, silly, stupidly kind alter-ego.

Back then, he wanted to survive this pain, this isfet, so he could live a normal, happy life. But as the weeks progressed, his hopes kept getting dashed one after the other. So much hopes shattered around him that in the end, he looked up to the sky, clenched his  fists, and uttered, I am done. No more fighting. There was nothing more to fight for.

His one tough ally could take care of himself. That was good enough for him. As for the one he covets… she will have to find her own way, alone.

The suffering and pain lodged in his chest again, like a rock blocking the natural flow of a river. The dam, once powerful and regal, was now cracked and old, pieces of it shattering every now and then, flooding his mind with intense emotions. But this time, he couldn’t let it break. Errands to run, stuff to do. It won’t do much if he was going to stare into a glass window and cry like an idiot. Save the tears for later… it will be your only companion. Trust me. I know.

Seeing others’ battles, his sigh echoes in his ears. Only if his own battle was as easy as theirs. If only he could find a way out of this mess. But no… he was trapped. Trapped between his ego, the infinite lies, loneliness, the pain and suffering, and himself. “To live, is to fight,” someone once said. Apparently, to him, it wasn’t applicable. There was nothing worth living for. Dying for-maybe.

He slumps back in the chair, tired of his own voice resounding in his head. He decides to at least spill a tiny portion of it, to make good use of his anguish. His feelings evolve into words… which he entitles… Isfet. Chaos.

Posted in SteelRazor

51: Up All Night

Oh… chilly morning, my precious subordinates. After typing that extra long blog post, Morpheus seemed to have given up on me and decided to find another person to put to sleep instead. You get the whole idea.

I used my time to watch the last three episodes of Naruto Shippuden, and I must say I was moved. Naruto’s unwavering determination to bring Sasuke back jolted a nerve in me. It made me see that people do not simply succeed using their skills or experience or whatnot. If you try and try and try, no matter how many times, you will never lose the chance to succeed. (Well, gosh. I think this is the gazillionth time I’m talking about not giving up.)

Whatever. You get the point, which is I didn’t sleep a wink tonight, and I watched anime. That’s basically it.

Or not. There are times when I can’t relax because I feel as if I forgot something important. And technically, that is the reason why Morpheus gave up on me. (Sheesh, I’m overusing the god of dreams.) That golden post wasn’t quite complete. Yes, there might be other people that I wasn’t able to write a letter to. But I mentioned that.

There was something missing in one of the messages. And that bugging feeling kept me up all night, like a sense of foreboding. I still can’t put a finger on it, but I’m very sure there was something important that slipped out of my mind.

Well, ranting about it won’t do no good. The SteelRazor resisting a rest, over and out. (Wooo, I threw in that pun there!)

*I just realized… my title is a song, isn’t it?