“Dr. Tran, it’s almost ready,” the assistant called from behind the glass. Jon acknowledged her and turned to face the ladder below him. He pulled out a picture from the pocket of his robe. A woman with black hair in a orange summer dress dancing in the autumn leaves.
He returned it to his pocket and disrobed. The cool air sent a chill up Jon’s spine. He stood naked in the chamber for a moment, perhaps breathing in his last breaths in this dimension.
“Ready for transference, doctor.”
There was a brief moment when Jon thought about not getting into the tank. He could just put his robe on and walk out of the building back into his wife’s arms, leaving all of this behind for a new life. His life’s work was in this room, but would it be worth it? He didn’t know, but decided to continue the experiment anyway.
Jon descended the ladder, slower with every rung. He took his last breath and submerged himself in the yellow liquid. The ladder retracted out of the tank and he was alone inside. He could barely make out the sound of countdown, just a low hum of sounds vaguely resembling numbers. He couldn’t tell how long he had until the transference, it already felt like hours.
A burst of light and sound filled the lab. Jon felt his skin leave his bones, his bones leave his veins, and his blood evaporate. Still, somehow, he felt alive. He opened his eyes, or, he tried to. He wasn’t sure he still had eyes. The room was gone, he could feel gravity pulling him in every direction, stretching what was left of his body flat, or, was it pulling him inward? He could’t tell. It felt like he could see the bands of light making up the colors he saw in his head, or maybe he was really seeing them.
He finally felt pain. A surge of electricity shot through him. He could feel the absence of his body, as if each limb was ripped from it. The colors faded. It went dark.
“Dr. Tran! Can you hear me?”
Jon’s eyes opened and he coughed up the foul liquid from his lungs. His robe was on again. His vision hadn’t quite returned, still, the faces above him looked unfamiliar.
“Did it work?” he muttered.
“No, you’re still here.” one of the strange men replied.
Jon used all his might to sit up. The laboratory looked different. Maybe the radiation had affected his perception.
“At least I’m alive.” Jon said, as contently as he could.
“Jeremy!” A voice called from the doorway. Jon turned to see a blonde woman rushing towards him and she met him with a affectionate embrace. “Jeremy… I thought I would never see you again. I hate to say this, but I’m so glad the experiment didn’t work!”
“I…I’m…” Jon struggled to collect his thoughts. He reached into the pocket of his robe and pulled out the photograph. A blonde woman, in a green dress, dancing in the autumn leaves.
courses for this semester:
1. stay cool
2. be hip
3. don’t be not hip nor not cool
courses for this semester:
1. actually retaining html knowledge
2. hiragana phonetics
It’s not like being sad. sadness is much easier to define. there’s usually a trigger point, some event or person the sadness is tied to. you’ve understood sadness all your life.
depression just quietly ties a rope around your body and drags you away from your life. it doesn’t make you cry or frown. you just drift away. and it locks you in a glass sphere away from your hopes and dreams. from your loves. from anything that makes you happy. a dull, matte grey paint blankets over everything you own. it all just feels empty and dead. you want to go somewhere but nowhere seems like where you want to go. everything everywhere is motionless, lifeless. and after a while you aren’t even upset anymore. you’ve given in to living in a bubble. every once in a while something will come around and make you smile or laugh, but nothing can break the glass. you’re just trapped. hoping the medication or the cigarettes or the alcohol or the weed will wake you up one day to remember everything you were living for before. all the reasons you remember driving you to work at what you were working so hard at everyday seem blurred or stupid. you wish you could just remember why you wanted so badly to keep on living. what it was that made you so happy to be alive just the other day.
oh yeah i forgot i had a personal tumblr or whatever.
anyway, why can’t i be that designer that just uses helvetica all the time
what does it take to be that guy?
you can practice what you preach
but you still can’t preach to me
'case i already know the teachers.
if this post gets less than 2 notes i’m going to leave and hang out with real people.
I went and hung out with real people anyway
fuck the system
Life is a lot better now.
i hope i can keep this mentality for a while at least
until i get my feet on the ground
i feel like my mind is a balloon that i’m holding onto
and at some point when i’m not looking
someone will come and cut the string
and i won’t even notice until it’s far into the atmosphere
as actually crazy as this sounds, i don’t think i would have made it out of the mental hospital with any shred of sanity had i never played portal / portal 2.
it really changed my life.
i hope you’re reading this, Valve.