Random Confessions

[Terminal Est]

Here is a more serious confession from me, which, after all these years, still seems to haunt me. It is hard to talk about, but I believe I need to get it off my chest. I might have said so here before, but it was in a debate, and certainly not in this more honest fashion.

When I turned eighteen, I was thrown out of my foster home, but eventually found lodging within a rooming house, cheap rent, loud and sometimes dangerous tenants, dirty bathrooms and whatnot, but it was pretty urgent, and all I had found to get myself off the street. Anyways, I had my little room on the third floor, and besides my room, there was a young man named Ian who lived there. He was schizophrenic apparently, but he was almost never there. In the seven months which I stayed in this place, I saw him about four or five times.

So one day, I was in my room with the door open playing video games and drinking coffee. He came to the door and asked if his music was too loud; it was, but I did not mind during the day. He looked like he wanted something, maybe just some company. But he left quickly enough when he saw that I was not going to invite him within, and offer him coffee or anything. Certain happenings in this place did not leave me too friendly, and if my door was open, it was because it was too cold; the hall heat was warmer then that of my room.

Well, his music blared until two in the morning, which I thought was rather odd, because in the few times that he was present, he always turned it off in the evening. But really not knowing his habits, I did not ask too many questions, really.

Anyways, it turned out that he had committed suicide, by hanging himself. We learned this when I finally did want to go to sleep, and knocked upon his door to ask him to turn down his music. The Caretaker, after I went to see him, told me to try and walk in, or wave some paper under his door to notify him of my presence, because with his mental disorder, it was possible that perhaps he was stuck in his own world or some such thing. But then I sort of had the feeling that something really bad had happened. I am not saying it because I know now, I swear that the feeling was quite genuine.

After failing both suggestions given to me by Dan, the Caretaker, he said he would go up and unlock the door to check on him and get the music down. I went back into my room.
As soon as this went on, all hell broke loose. Dan started screaming for help, and eventually the tenants came to his call. They said ''holy shit he fucking hung himself'' and the sort. One man started screaming and crying, others were asking help to get Ian down from his rope, and someone else was trying to calm the screaming man. Anyways, the police and ambulance came and took the body away.

The thing is, this incident took about two hours...and I did not leave my room once. (I REALLY had to go to the bathroom in the end.) I did not answer the calls for help, I did not come out when the police came, I did nothing. I kept sitting in my room and playing Breath of Fire II on my Super Nintendo, shaking and sweating. Everyone knew that I knew what was going on, not only was my room besides his, but also, it was because of me that he was found so quickly.

So I admit, for as Goth and macabre as I claim to be, or am interested in the subjects thereof, I was too afraid of seeing a dead body. I did not WANT to see it. At all. I feel even worse knowing that I had a hunch he was doing something such as this. I swear I could simply feel it, and did nothing at all.
I am also thinking that maybe if I HAD invited him over, offered him some coffee or even relieved whatever sexual frustrations his face often showed signs of, it would have been the one small thing that could have saved him, or perhaps made him feel better for a bit...but I did not. For some reason, to this day, I believe that I have played a part in Ian's suicide, and still feel so dirty, and ashamed of my obnoxious and snob like behaviour. It is hard to explain how I feel, but it feels bad.

The next day, nobody said anything to me about it; Dan said that if I needed to speak to somebody, that I could go and see him. Also, ever since that day, I suffer form nocturnal terrors, which at first I thought that it was literally his ghost that was haunting me.

It is my worse confession, I still feel so bad about it, and although a few people know this, it is still hard to bear, and even then, at the thought that I would only look for self confirmation, I feel even cheaper. But at least I'll not carry this to the grave.

[Miss Lockheart]

That must have been really hard to do, getting it off your chest. But I do hope you find some peace for it. You were in a very difficult situation there and even though you feel terrible for acting the way you did, I think lots of people would have done the same thing. Don't be hard on yourself for it. Of course I would never pertain to know how it feels, I hope you can feel better about yourself now.

My confession is quite a general theme that has always run through my life. I'm an absolute complete walkover, I'm incredibly soft. I must attract using people somehow, because I find it very difficult to stand up for myself, because I want peace and for others to be happy. It's not so bad now, since I've been emerged the other side from the worst part of my life and started being tougher (I now have an admirable acid tongue), but there have been times when I could have stopped things from happening that made me unhappy, but instead chose to stay quiet to keep the peace. I still panic sometimes when I even think that I might have offended someone, and sometimes even now I back down in an argument. Meh, nice guys finish last I suppose, I hate having to be a hard-ass just to get by in life.

[exile9013]

confession-I'm afraid of clowns. Yeah clowns.

also I'm a really a man! dum dum dum. Oh wait you all know that.

[Son of Sephiroth]

random confession: on several occasions I have questioned my own sexuality due to being attracted to certain men (usually only particularly effeminate ones)

it actually feels quite relieving to say that.

[Firesnake]

mmm like the guys in bands like malice mizer.... they look like women really...

confession: I really despise sunlight.... I like moonlight more

[JET73L]

Erm... Confession: I read shoujo manga at least as much as shounen manga, and significantly more than occult manga. On a related note, I rarely read american comics (with the exception of XMen). I just read the Ultimate Guides.

[Miss Lockheart]

I was going to mention another one, but got a weird sense of deja vu have I done something like this before. Oh well, might have been a dream..

Anyways I was goign to say I have a problem in general with people touching me. Even my family, I hate it when they even so much as touch my arm, so you can imagine I freak out if a complete stranger does that. My sister really takes the piss because she will wait until I'm relaxed and then jump on me and try to hug me, even though I seriously don't do hugging (unless it's in posts). I think I only hug my own son because it only just feels comfortable, and kids need hugs.


I've been kinda that way all my life, but I'm much worse since I left my ex, but then after that episode I think anyone would be the same. I don't trust people, and it just doesn't feel comfortable anyway.

[Firesnake]

maybe you just need theright person to hug
I also get unconfertable with people I don't know touching me
And well... I don't like touching in general... exept from the girl I love...

[Miss Lockheart]

Wow I just thought it was me!

Maybe u is right. Though I think I'll waiting a verrrrry long time

Okies another confession. I used to have Jive and Chachacha lessons, for about 2 years. Can't do any of it now, but I'm a big fan of ballroom and latin. Doubt many people could confess to that! Oh dear, yes I watch Strictly Come Dancing and may one day start doing some kind of classical training again, if I can be arsed or unless I start learning an instrument!

[JET73L]

Hmm, the whole thing about people being in direct contact bothers me, too. It's probably all people, but to different degrees.

As for confession: I can't express grief properly. Actually, it's more sympathy I can't express than grief, though the problem occurs with both. I start acting all nervous and twitchy, or even just burst out with insanely maniacal laughter (not evil-genius, but lunatic). My mom did the same thing, tooo, and possibly still does but to a lesser degree.