Hidden 24 days ago 20 days ago Post by Cyndyr
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ALYSSA: Variant of ALICIA. The spelling has probably been influenced by that of the alyssum flower, the name of which is derived from Greek α (a), a negative prefix, combined with λυσσα (lyssa) "madness, rabies", since it was believed to cure madness.






I honestly don't know what the hell this is.
Maybe a place to store ideas, dreams, and work?


Fanfictions

Original Stories

Emo Free Verse Poetry

Misc







Comments? Feedback? Suggestions? Want to discuss anything or collaborate?
Feel free to drop in at anytime even if it's just to say "hello" or "Wow, The Artist Formerly Known As Cynder, your dreams are really messed up". As I said previously, I don't know what the hell this topic is supposed to be aside from a place for me to store my thoughts, dreams, works, and so on. I would love to have an open discussion with anyone about anything related to them or not!
Hidden 23 days ago 20 days ago Post by Cyndyr
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I'm Not Dead Yet


I had this dream a few nights ago and I've been at a lost as to what I should do with it. After initially calming down and coming to terms with this twisted terror, it was brought to my attention by a certain individual (who should not be named) that the dream could act as an interesting premise for a story and/or Roleplay. I like to think that she was right.

The dream apparently took place in Sudan around 2006 (which my mind had associated with the genocide that is occurring in Darfur) with a focus on three main characters that were foreign to the region and likely tourists. The main trio consisted of two females and one male - the male was named Henry, one of the females was unnamed, and the other female shared a name with my roommate for this upcoming year at college (Faizah). The dream had a predictably dark setting and focused on this trio surviving with only the unnamed female being the sole survivor of the cast.

What were they surviving from?

From what I can recall, they were facing a group of brutal terrorists that wore animal masks in order to conceal their identities. I could not determine what their exact goal was, but it seemed that they were hellbent on achieving it as could be seen through their methods. They begun attacking the main trio and other individuals in the area by poisoning the water supply with a preference of using arsenic. From there, they would hide bodies in barrels and light them on fire before dropping them off of a waterfall. None of the main characters were defeated this way and Henry was shot while Faizah was suffocated through the use of an ironclad mask. The unnamed female managed to escape the ordeal and hide away in safety before revealing the horrors of her experience.

It was an overall crazy dream/nightmare that I remember with painfully vivid details, but as a fan of the horror genre, I wonder if it would make an interesting Roleplay or story.

It just might.
Hidden 20 days ago 20 days ago Post by Cyndyr
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Are We Living In A Dystopian Reality?


Let me preface this thought by stating that I am American, so these thoughts are geared towards American society and not necessarily the rest of the world. I don't plan on documenting thoughts regarding other countries anytime soon, so you can rest assure that I'm only focusing on my country here. And no, this will not be focused on Donald Trump and/or his administration. Without further ado, here is a debate that I've been internally discussing with myself for a few months now:

I graduated from high school at the beginning of this month and along with it, a course on literature within the dystopian genre. While in the course, I finished four books from trash like Aldous Huxley's Brave New World to classics such as 1984 penned by George Orwell. We also watched the adaption of The Hunger Games, which viewed as a dystopian story and not as a teenage drama romance,
is actually pretty good in my opinion. Of all the novels to hit me the hardest, however, was Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury which follows the plot of a society willingly deciding to outlaw knowledge (by burning books) in replacement of distractions in the form of technology (most presented in the novel was television, but it was written before the time of home computers and smartphones). In the novel, characters have shallow relationships, are immune to common acts of violence, and care little for others, especially those that are "different". Sound familiar?

The thought really hadn't crossed my mind until I was walking home from my last final exam while listening to Allister's album Life Behind Machines that Americans (and perhaps other countries as well) may willingly be living in a dystopian reality. Although we haven't exactly begun burning books, I don't think it's unfair to say that people haven't at least begun to become addicted to technology which has more or less served as a distraction. I'm not speaking for everyone, of course, but I know that I definitely resort to music, YouTube, and cat pictures whenever I'm feeling anxious or overwhelmed instead of paying to (and solving) whatever problem is plaguing me. Based on some of the posts that I've seen online, I wonder if there are others do the same and I would not be surprised in the slightest if there were. For the record, I don't think that these distractions are negative nor do I ever plan on condemning technology as my online friends cared more for me than my own parents did, but I wonder if technology is beginning to overrun conversation. I don't see a problem with texting and messaging my friends, but I do admit that it feels odd to have friends over my house and for all of us to have our heads in our phones instead of acknowledging one another, but again, this may just be an experience of my own.

Moving away from experiences of my own, however, I do find through observation that people have become increasingly unconcerned with acts of violence. It took less than twenty-four hours of the Manchester bombing to see posts about Ariana Grande's show apparently "being the bomb" and "very explosive" to appear. It's only been four years and Sandy Hook has nearly been forgotten about (save for the conspiracists and, of course, those affected by the tragedy). Christina Grimmie, a former YouTube singer and someone that I was subscribed to many years ago, was shot and killed last year with people taking to the internet with debates about gun control instead of acknowledging the murder of an innocent individual who was only a few years older than myself. In the example of the Orlando Night Club shooting, there was an argument of whether or not the shooter was a terrorist or simply a "troubled individual" instead of paying attention to the forty-nine people that were just killed. I myself have struggled to find empathy towards these situations due to how much violence and crime I've witnessed both on television and in my own life. When did society become so desensitized? When did I become so desensitized? I only have to wonder.

Loathe as I may to admit for such a pile of trash there are points made by Aldous Huxley in Brave New World that could ring true for American society as well. With the rise of "smart TVs" being able to listen to conversations while turned off, the rise of fake news, and alteration of language as a mean to control - hang on here! I'm getting too close to politics! Let it be known that I'm not pointing fingers at any one individual and/or party since quite a few people are guilty of this. Whew. Carry on. Anyway, with all of the previously mentioned examples in mind, it seems that an "Orwellian nightmare" may already be according, but not nearly to the extent of the grey world seen by Winston Smith. Perhaps Suzanne Collins may also had a few points to make as she also touches upon desensitization for others in The Hunger Games as well as the absurdity of reality television. I also observed The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood, but I would be hard pressed to ever make any argument regarding the validity of that cringy novel.

And those are only some of my thoughts. I could rant on regarding my thoughts on this topic for hours, but I don't think that anyone would be interested in reading that. Or this for that matter, but at the moment, I just really felt like placing this somewhere. Maybe it could serve as a discussion, thoughts for a Roleplay, or simply a way to improve my writing in the slightest bit. Either way, if you actually read this - I commend you and I want to know, if there's anyone out there that actually read this - what are your thoughts? I'd love to hear them.

Until next time, The Artist Formerly Known As Cynder is out.

Hidden 5 days ago 5 days ago Post by Cyndyr
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Flaws

I don't know why I'm writing this post, but I am and I feel that it is long overdue. Sometimes, there are days that I don't feel like that I have the courage to make it through and when they happen, I feel the urge to leave behind some essence of my story or who I was. That being said, this post will have very little to do with the Bastille song and will instead be focused on the most prevalent subject in my life that isn't Dan Smith: myself.

Let it be known that I was born and raised in New Jersey on February 20th in 1998 at 10:48 AM. I was born with a name that comes from a flower that was believed to cure madness and perhaps I was seeing the family that I was born into. There are blurs of my childhood that I don't often remember (nor do I want to), but I know that I once lived in a trailer park, that my best friend at the time loved Godzilla, that I thought my bike was a unicorn, and that my dog once had puppies. I remember being chased by a woman with a rake while playing Manhunt, I remember playing in construction sites until a police officer caught me one day, and I remember when I would beat the first level of Halo before Kindergarten. I discovered the internet when I was shy of twelve years old and began on a Pokemon website where I would find real friends and a passion for writing. For all the good and bad, there was also the ugly and I had a very messy childhood

I am nineteen years old at the time of writing this post. I am still haunted by my childhood.

I ran away from home when I was seventeen and I'm not ashamed to admit it. The truth is that I was born to a convicted pedophile and a thief. The pedophile was convicted when I was four years old after I apparently spoke up about his abuse towards my sister and I. There were confessions of assaulting at least three other children in the family and he only received fifteen years in prison. He was bailed out by my grandparents and released into the world in the spring of 2014. My grandparents are delusional and believe that he deserves forgiveness by whatever God they pray to while they despise my mother. My mother has sticky fingers, but she can't help it, she just has impulses. I've seen my mother's kleptomania first hand, but I don't let it excuse her behavior. My mother is in actuality the teenager in our familial relation between her insistence to buy/deal drugs, start petty Facebook fights, and have sexual affairs. I also remember that she once lied about having a job in order to see a man aside from my stepfather. She's currently trying to get rid of said man and went as far to throw a potted plant at me in order to prove a point that I can't really remember at the moment. At the very least, I like to think that she tries. In the end, I can't really decide if I was running from her, my biological father, my grandparents, or New Jersey as a whole.

I like to think it's the last option.

There are too many memories that I don't wish to recall such as the neighbor's cousin that was paid a dollar to drown me a lake when I was a child, the amount of my mother's friends that threatened to beat me when I turned eighteen, or the abusive roommate that kicked me out of her house for not doing her dishes at the age of fifteen. I'm no saint myself and I would like to get it off my chest that I used to be addicted to Xanax as it would help me sleep. I was about thirteen when I took it and I was diagnosed with PTSD this past September. I like to believe that I was justified by taking it due to my diagnosis, but as soon as a friend told me to stop, I completely did and never went back. I think part of me only wants someone to actually give a shit about me.

There's my older sister and I care about her more than myself, but sometimes I feel that she only keeps me around in order to not feel lonely herself. Most of my friends only message me to talk about themselves and I'm ignored in most group chats that I'm in. I live in constant fear of abandonment from my own friends and family after my mother left me when I was thirteen and my friends gave up on me when I was fifteen (there is, from what I know, an entire chat surrounded about hating me which my so-called "best friend" used to be in). Another group of friends had no hesitation of replacing me with my sister. I truly think that people only like what I pretend to be which is a cheery and upbeat individual. In reality, I suffer from anxiety, am bitter, whine, and have no boundaries when it comes to my humor. I wonder if the Guild would treat me similarly if I did not act the way that I do.

I'm also afraid of snakes, being buried alive, open ocean, and elevators. I don't like tall buildings and turkeys make me angry. I'm absent-minded and I break everything that I touch. I'm late to everything that I plan for and my health is horrendous. I'm a complete flake and I have the inability to sit still. These are only some of my flaws. I wonder if this is why so many people have given up on me.

In the words of Dan Smith regarding flaws: "we need them to be who we are".

If there is ever a day in which I can't carry on due to my constant anxiety, self-hatred, and nightmares, then I want it to be known that I was only human with human flaws. I'm not a bad person nor am I good one. I'm a pain in the ass, but I would do anything for anyone. I want it to be known that I dream of visiting Alaska, being a leader, writing a book, getting married, and joining the FBI someday. That day is not close, but if it ever comes and somebody stumbles this while feeling lonely or whatever else, then I hope you can relate to this. I hope you can see past your own failures to succeed just as I saw to finishing high school and getting accepted into eight universities despite being a former dropout. As it stands right now, I am in love with life and simply hate myself. I want this to be a record of my existence, but I also want people to know that they aren't alone and if they are feeling unloved, then I understand.

And for these people, I want it to be known that I do give a shit and I don't want them to give up.
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