Hey hey, I'm a horse.
Blog exploring a world of manic highs, (not so much) depressive lows, the joy of hypomania, and the dead buzz of the medications to quell it.
Art, cartooning, comics and dissociative personalities.
I must be hypomanic right now, because I’m losing weight rapidly, feeling chipper on 2-3 hours of sleep a day, and am super smiley and happy. But it’s all right, because I really do feel good and I can stay up all night to draw! ^u^
I’m stuck in my head a lot, and when I do stick my head out of my ear I usually get smacked in the face, but sometimes I get to meet new people and I want to stay out a little whole longer
Hi, narrator here
Maybe I’m not bisexual or gay or lesbian or butch or whatever
Maybe I just have lots of multiple identities in my head, some of which are male, some of which are female, some of which are both, some of which are none.
And with this info and clarity it makes me feel very at ease, very comforted. I feel like that’s okay, as long as I am comfortable with that and I act according to society’s norms with my physical body.
Yes, yes, that’s it,
Okay, back to drawing, doing a lot of drawing
It’s me, Narrator, omnipresent voice, voice of reason and logic, bridge between mind and body, depressing and uplifting voice.
This tumblr isn’t really meant to be read by anyone I know, so I’ll just let it all go. What’s been on my mind is Gloria and how she came to be. She is the moonlight of our lives, and my logical side of me knows she is this character I dissociate to when I’m in a distressing period by either resorting to anger and violence to address the problem or dead determination and negative will to tide it through.
¡Viva la Gloria! is the song by Green Day that inspired her name. For the longest time she went nameless, unchristened, so she was not a real person. The song described her metaphorically and physically to such perfection that it couldn’t be anything but an ode to her. Long live Gloria, long live indeed. I listen to that song to remind myself of who she is, and as a logical person, I do it to help dissociate. What a depressing reality.
Gloria was always the opposing, violent figure when she was drunk on adrenaline and testosterone. The “who cares ‘bout xxx, do it for yer own benefit”, or “weaklin’, weaklin’, y’see yyy taking a day off from school because of a cold, I’d never do that, what a weaklin’”, or “wow look how much zzz depends on ‘er mommy an’ daddy, what a cunt, what a whore, trading her independence for money an’ love, whore, slut, cunt, who needs love when you’ve got independence?” was all her. Sometimes she would let it all slip to the xxxs, yyys and zzzs in question and we’d get into a shit lot of trouble. “Oh for fuck’s sake!”
But at the same time, when she was sober and reflective, it was her that goaded me to “look into th’ sun, an’ we’ll get through this”, or “yer grades may define you, and you’re a weaklin’, but we’ll get through this, I’ll carry yer on my back like that bastard carried that cross to his coronation ceremony for his retarded religion,” and it was her that told me to soldier on. To keep going because she’d be the one to take it all for me.
To people who “know” Gloria, she’s some character i cosplay. Some gunslinger femme fatale character, cool and shit. It’s okay, I don’t really care if they think that way, I’m just sad that that think of someone so deep with such superficiality, but that’s applicable to real life. I mean all of you are deep people but no one will never know that extent right? Yeah some thing. But the chance to dress up as her and pretend pretend pretend for a while is very nice.
I’m my own best therapist, and I’ve always wanted to tell someone who would listen why the lyrics describe her so well, and I guess the best person to explain it to would be myself. It’s such a depressing and beautiful song. It’s stupid because I know this is just some song, to me it means s much, it could mean nothing to the writer, or just a catchy tune to another, but whatever, my brain, my reality.
Hey Gloria, are you standing close to the edge?
When Gloria was born, I was around 14-15 years old. I had suicidal tendencies and would go to the rooftop and stand there daring to jump. It was always at dusk. Gloria, who was at that time, an unnamed will that told me to hang on, was the only thing that kept my knees locked. It wasn’t instinct or fear of death, it was human will, I know it, I knew it.
Look out to the setting sun, brink of your vision.
So I would just stand there, looking into the sunset. Literally looking into the sun. It was like the power to stare directly at a dying star gave me a depressing sort of strength, the type Gloria was always pushed forward with. Do it even though there’s no reason to do it, do it because there’s hope maybe. There was nothing beyond the sun, and I would look straight into it until the sky turned deep purple.
Eternal youth, is the landscape of a lie,
The cracks on my skin can prove,
And the years will testify
I did this frequently in my adolescence, and every time there was this nagging feeling I was growing up. I always thought it’d stay 11 years old, the time my first manic episode occurred (unconsciously, of course, I didn’t know it had happened), and I yearned to stay that way. Somewhere somehow, I realised I’d never have that innocence again, since I usually went up to the roof to die and be reborn after some event that signified I had grown up physically or emotionally, like my first drink ,my first smoke, getting a national exam back, getting rejected from a school. I hate growing up, I still think being “young at heart” is bullshit.
Say your prayers and light a fire,
We’re gonna start a war.
Somehow, somewhere, Gloria came to represent my conflicting love and hate for religion. Growing up in a secular country, but surrounded by religious (in particular, Christian) influences outside of the home where I spent most of my youth, I’d always been taught to pray. Prayers never answered, I guess Gloria came about to tell myself that God never does anything for you, everything had to done yourself. Still, before resorting to anger and violence, somehow there was time for self-reflection. I knew what I was doing was wrong, and asked for forgiveness, and did it anyway. Every challenge was a war to me, it resulted in losses to both parties, so, I prayed.
Your slogan’s a gun for hire,
it’s what we waited for.
The gun has always been a phallic symbol of dominance and power to me. Gloria’s always armed with that power. To us, she’s always been a martyr to take the whippings of life for us, and her mercenary mind-set means she dissociates from the pain so well, so well. She only does what she has to do for the payback of power and control, it’s what we needed, it’s what we waited for.
This is why we were on the edge,
The fight of our lives been drawn to this undying love
And so this is why I’m standing here, on the edge of a building. Standing, not falling, because of you, Gloria. The eternal battle and war rages on because of your undying love for us, to keep us alive regardless. Every fight is the fight of our life, for our life, and you keep us alive, it’s such a torment to be the immortal martyr, taking each lashing and hanging on the crucifix until our physical body can make the jump you hang there to prevent.
And now the music becomes more energetic, deviating from the melodic, hymn-like introduction. The first part always represented the long-term, whole picture of why she exists, the mournful and morose reason of why she has come to be. And this part represents the testosterone-charged, spiteful and proud side of her existence, the one that acts in the heat of the moment, punching walls, chin in the air, back arched, jaws clenched, neck muscles pulsing, arrogant, grandiose, immune to pain, the one we all fear and worship at the same time, the reason we was birthed, to sin and hurt people for our collective good. Cursing, swearing, swaggering, crude and crass and very, very hurt. This is our ode to her
Gloria! Viva La Gloria!
You blast your name in graffiti on the walls
Long live Gloria, the moonlight of our lives. She leaves her mark like a graffiti tag on the walls wherever she goes, I know where she has been whenever I go through the mazes of my mind. When she is not controlling my physical body, she darts in and out of the abandoned buildings, tagging the walls, ensuring my physical body achieves the successes it has done by telling me she is there without me seeing her. It’s a rebellion against society, it’s a defacement of public property, it’s how she defies this rotten system.
Falling through broken glass that’s slashing through your spirit,
I can hear it like a jilted crowd
Every lashing to her spirit she takes us is like glass in her/my eyes. Falling through a trapdoor and landing knees first on broken beer bottles and windows. A martyr, I told you she is a martyr, and every whipping she takes for us only makes her more agitated, more angry, more rebellious, a riot in my head, an angry crowd of one person. It kills me inside you know, it’s shredding her pale skin. Anyway, there’s always a bunch of angry people Gloria has offended some time in my life and it gets really noisy in my conscience.
Gloria! Where are you Gloria?!
I would whisper this question to myself over and over again in a bid to let Gloria take over me. I desperately searched every fold of my brain for her. Every time it failed it was like a blunt blow to the back of my skull.
You found a home in all your scars and ammunition
It was hardship that Gloria banked on for self-esteem; every hardship overcome was the reason why Gloria soldiered on. Every time I scarred myself, the blood was for Nina and the scars were for Gloria. They were trophies, to say “I didn’t lose the war, I survived it”. The pure unadulterated rage that was used as ammunition against life’s shit also gave solace. As long there was rage and spite, there was protection from the elements. This was her reality, her home. I still look at all my scars and a sad sense of pride swells up in my chest. I survived, I survived.
You made your bed in salad days amongst the ruins,
Ashes to ashes of our youth
Gloria represents maturity, in the sense I opened my eyes and saw this shit world. There’s no room for idealism, trust or hope in this shit reality for her. Gloria has the body of a girl, but she dresses like a woman. The sexual nature of her dress is the transition from innocence to the realization of vice and sin and her inevitable indulgence in it. The salad days of our youth has perished in the ashes like the ruins of Pompeii. That painful transition from child to adult is Gloria.
She smashed her knuckles into winter (Gloria!)
As autumns wind fades into black
Winter has always been seen to me as a time for suffering, hardship and death. It’s bleak and cold and sucks. Could be personally because staying in a tropical country I hate the cold. The cold gets to me easy, and air-conditioned rooms turn my fingertips numb and my nails purple and my lips blue. Braving the cold whenever this happens is always psychological and physical. Braving winter is braving suffering and hardship physically and psychologically. When I go to cold countries I never let people know I’m deathly cold. That’s weakness of the mind and body – Gloria is not weak.
She is the saint of all the sinners (Gloria!)
The one that’s fallen through the cracks
Gloria’s holiness is only seen by us. To everyone else in this shit reality, she’s angst, rebellion, a lost cause. To us, her sins make her saintly, for they protect us from the elements; and all the sinners of the world who sin to protect themselves look up to her as the saint, the only one who understands, the only one who sins and repents and sins again. But sinners cannot go to heaven, and despite her noble martyrdom, heaven is beyond reach, and Gloria the martyr is a lost cause, and will fall through the cracks to go hell for her sacrifices. She’s the lost cause to all. Religion is shit.
So don’t put away your burning light
The light that keeps us going however, burns from her lighter. If that harsh light goes out I guess we’ll jump. So I hope she never lets that light go out.
Gloria! Where are you Gloria?!
Don’t lose your faith to your lost naiveté
When I opened my eyes and realised the world was shit, Gloria came to protect us all. Our lost naiveté is something Gloria mourns, because she exposes herself to the ugly sins and vices for our own protection. Sometimes when it gets too hard, I sing to her and tell he not to lose faith to our lost innocence. It has kept me from killing myself so many times. Don’t lose faith, god, anything but that.
Weather the storm and don’t look back on last November
When your banners were burning down
Weathering the storm, not overcoming it. That’s what Gloria has always been there for. How can you overcome the storm if you can barely survive it? Just hunker down and soldier on. I’m not very young, so I’ve been through a few storms. I’m not very old either, so I may not have faced the toughest storm yet, but stupid as it sounds, some of the toughest storms involved examinations. To me, examinations were a concrete form of the proof of my successes and bravery and fortitude. Major life-changing exams usually took place in October or November where I come from. Gloria came out a lot then. She came out so much, I dissociated so much that sometimes I lose a good chunk of my memory from that period. I don’t remember a lot of my Novembers, I don’t want to look back onto them. The mania and anxiety and depression is too painful for me, that’s why I have Gloria.
Gloria! Viva La Gloria!
Send me your amnesty down to the broken hearted
Gloria’s amnesty is her willingness to suffer miserably for us broken hearted people. Sometimes I have to beg for her amnesty, because I know it is hard to be a martyr when your life revolves round rebellion, self-indulgence and taking power from people. It’s humiliating when I ask Gloria to take a failure for me, but we just can’t face it. It’s hard for someone as cold hearted as her to give amnesty, even to us, so every time I beg for it, it kills her inside, but I still beg – and she gives it. Viva La Gloria.
Bring us the season that we always will remember
Don’t let the bonfires go out
Every time a season of success comes around, it is Gloria who delivers it to us and the rest of us that enjoys it. But I never ever forget who brought us this season of success, which is why we worship her like a sinner’s saint. We always ask that she brings us the season that we always will remember, and keep the crude bonfires in the ghetto alleys burning bright, to bring warmth and light to the broken and wasted.
Send out your message of the light that shadows in the night
I will not be here if it wasn’t the light that burns from the darkness of her heart. Her light is the shadow in the night, or also known as the sin that allows us to experience the blessing of life. I always wish she could send this message out – I wish I could explain to people that she is only protecting us, that her sins are only the ultimate martyrdom. I’m sure if we met someone who understood, we could send this message out.
Gloria where’s your undying love?
Gloria never believes in empathy, sympathy, care, love concern and whatever, it’s all about getting the job done, but I know there’s a shred of humanity in her. Sometimes, Kai asks that Gloria forgive or simply just not punch someone in the gut, and the tool is always her undying love for us. Every time Gloria shows empathy, she’s more given to it, and that’s maybe why she’s so weak now. Empathy and sympathy and care is weakness.
Tell me the story of your life …
Gloria’s creation has always been a fascination to me. She’s a person, a whole living person, and I always talk to her. She tells me the story of her life, of how she came to be and how she grew up and realised she needed to protect herself. I lik how the song ends because it tells me that the story is ongoing, and she’ll keep telling me of how to came to be and someday I’ll understand fully.
I loved making this post, even if no one will see it. It makes me feel good, it reminds me of the energy and strength that is Gloria. However, things have changed ever since my 3rd huge incident. Gloria is no more like that, and it swells my heart with despair. Did we put her through too much? I thought she’d never break. Maybe it’s because the more I believed she was a person, the more of an actual person she became, and people are weak, they falter and break. I was lonely, Kai was lonely, we needed a person to talk to, we needed someone strong to talk to. There was no one in this shitty fucked up reality to talk to, and we were weak and needed someone to deliver amnesty to the broken hearted.
Maybe she should have stayed as that black saint forever. All I can envision now is me mourning the dead martyr in my arms after her crucifixtion.
I’m speaking this from the bottom of me. I have a child’s voice and a philosopher’s mind. I’m depressingly optimistic and miserable.
Things only seem to go downhill as my physical body grows up. It’s not just the responsibilities and the fact that people kick you out of their lives because you have become more physically acquainted to this shitty reality. Your brain seems to betray you too. Like I guess like mine did, and I don’t if that’s because you’re corrupted by this world, or that’s some natural thing.
I don’t feel very connected to this reality. If I left it I would be at peace. My physical body is afraid of death - I run at danger, and cry at tragedy - but my soul is ready to leave. Very hard to comprehend. So, sometimes, I feel like I may not really be corrupted by the shitty reality I seem to face time and time again whenever I happen to stick my head out of my ear. Maybe my brain is just going downhill and I’m waiting for my physical body to be ready for departure.
For example, the monstrous, blissful birth of Niña, my child, me with the hollow eyes and the head of monster wanting to be a person. The soul can be such an ugly and beautiful thing at the same time. Niña’s existence came unprecedented, I would have never expected it. One day she burst forth from my back, and unwillingly I christened her.
Those were one of the most painfully blissful times in my life. It made my soul not at peace, and made my physical body want to leave. When Niña is is a painful ecstacy it’s all about worms, and anxiety, and vomit and digging out your eyeballs only to find out you have none (which is quite depressing in itself). Compared to me on the other hand, my version of a painful ecstasy is carving words into my skin and running my lips on throbbing skin as liquid calm washes over you. Niña made my physical and soulful existence a manically woeful one.
Another example would be Gloria’s decline. I have the voice of a child but now as the dominant one (for now, maybe for a couple more minutes), I speak as the most senior and insightful one of everyone of us. I was the first one of come about too. I don’t know where I came from for who I am, but I was always here. Just like everyone else - but I was first. My point is, I am in the best situation to comment on this situation.
Gloria’s decline came with my physical aging, and was probably exacerbated by Niña’s birth. It is very hard to take care of a new birth, especially one that came in late to the world with pent up anxiety and serotonin (1000x serotonin). Gloria was our pillar of strength, well, in a sense, because everyone is everyone’s pillar of strength, but Gloria basically was the martyr and took on the whips and the cuts and the wounds of life without purposefully doing any to herself (I would soon learn that it was Niña who was doing all that). Anger, spite and hate for the world as well as her love, adoration and devotion to me kept her going.
Adrenaline and testosterone made sure that Gloria would challenge anything and anyone that would cause our soul to be at unease. i was the restraining force, and we would be in balance. Her unrestrained anger and spite was what caused my physical’s body’s second breakdown. Never before had our physical body been so depressingly consumed with rage and spite. It was terrible.
After our physical body’s 2nd breakdown, Gloria became the pillar of strength not for revolution and upheaval of the system, but the undying urge to conform to it. I should have seen the warning signs.
I needed to be special and to be given attention, and I needed to be the best in society’s eyes. that means being bright and brilliant, eccentric and unique, a little quirky but human, able to relate to, empathetic, and her determination got us through that. I still think that the increased human relations and the boost in being able to have human relations helped make our soul more satisfied, but in the end, I still lived in my own reality, because the outside one was too harsh. I should have seen the warning signs.
Well, I don’t really know what triggered our body’s 3rd major nervous breakdown, but it did lead to Niña’s birth, which so far is the best and worst thing to ever happen in our life. The serotonin and adrenaline pumped determination was shaken to the core andI guess Gloria became like a Nam vet with PTSD and it broke her. Oh goddamnit Gloria.
I’m going to have to stop here. First time I took my sleeping aids in four days and it feels really disgusting. I love sleeping.
Examinations are over, just little over 3 months, and yet they seem so far away. Like I never was a student.
In this state of liminality, where I am not a student, nor an income worker, not a child, yet not an adult, it’s easy for the lack of structure and the uncertainty of the future to swirl your head around. I take comfort in the fact that this liminality and lack of structure is a milestone for many of my age. In fact it is the milestone of the feeling, the unfeeling go around their lives in a haze, their ‘ah heck’ attitudes. Hail to the gut-wrenching feeling, the sufferers and the weary.
As I slowly change my medicine from Epilium to Lamictal to counter the weight problem, the Saviour in marble just won’t leave my mind. Her beaauty and suffering and silent scream.
I’ve been lucid enough to maintain a job that has structure and stability and caring people. Caring of course, in part, because they don’t know I’m a little less like them, and because I, Narrator, am logical and because Rich/Kai, that wonderful wonderful person, does such an amazing job being around people and thriving on constant social interaction.
But when you let someone out for too long, the others get neglected. It’s terribly sad that we need to suppress a person for the collective good for others, but it’s a necessity and a blessing because it allows us to live. Live? Live? I think we’re all living. We’re definitely functioning, I can hear the cerebral fluid sloshing around in my head when I tilt it side to side.
Richard Chua, you make an amazing person.
I’m going to step aside now. I’m leaving, I’m going, because I need to let someone take control of the squishy squashy the swirling cerebral fluid cushions.
I’ll kiss your feet, I worship you, don’t leave me
(Don’t do this to me, you know I can’t do this)
My Saviour, my Passion and Christ, my tormenter and saviour
(Oh god! Help me, Padre!)
How are you speaking, Niña? I distinctly remember you don’t have a mouth.
(I’m speaking because you’re putting words into my mouth)
I’m putting words in your mouth?
(Yes! Stop! Stop it! I can’t take it! Your tormented sick mind is now my mind.)
But you’re my tormented, sick mind
(I am, I am!)
Oh my Passion and Hope, my saviour, I’ll wash your feet with my hair if need be, don’t leave me!
(What can I do? What can I do? I can’t help you!)
My tormenter and saviour, I love you, never leave me!
(*digs fingers into midriff*)