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  1. #61
    Wicked Sick iYAMwhatiYAM's Avatar
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    back to some dotes

    twitch.tv/iyamwhatiyam_

  2. #62
    Killing Spree doeordie's Avatar
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    Nagy on some NADotA 4 page stream self advertisement shit...

    SMH

    ~B.M.C~

  3. #63
    Holy Shit yns's Avatar
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    The best way to summarize how I feel right now would be several shots of whiskey and several "legal" prescription medications that could put me into a coma as deep as the fucking Mariana's Trench. I just want to close my eyes. I'm sore, my throat hurts (feels like something's been scratching at for the past eight hours) my hands smell like copper and I can't get that fucking high pitched beeping noise out of my ears. I just want to go to sleep. But I can't.

    Elaborating would probably be the best thing to do right now, because more than anything in the world I want pity and I want consolation and I just want to be held, and even if all I can get is the sympathy of internet strangers, I'll be fine. But it won't be fine, it's never fine. Don't lie to yourself.

    I'll start this off like how Ms. Oho taught us in third grade. Fuck, my throat hurts. Alright:

    My name is Daniel. You're not getting my last name. The last thing I need is to be mutilated and thrown into a lake by some mouth-breather in their late-fourties, just now realizing that they are a bloodthirsty serial-killing rapist. Sorry about the whole "being rude" thing. I'm irritable. And I get off topic too much. Fuck. Where was I?

    My name is Daniel, and two days ago, the sane me died. Well, as sane as I could have been. I like McDonald's, sleeping, music, and history.

    I never knew my father too well, always saw him on the weekends, and my mother died when I was two. Only thing I know about her was that she usually wore this perfume that smelled like Spring, and that she burned to death. I can't imagine it was a particularly peaceful way to go out, but it's an old wound and those heal, so I'm comfortable with talking about it.

    I spent my life raised by my grandparents, and they are probably the reason I never off'd myself, well, ever. My grandmother was a Jewish woman who had dodged the Holocaust by three months. My grandfather wasn't as lucky. I'll get to that later.

    She was a very spiritual woman who died one night eating dinner while watching her favorite game show. I was sixteen when that happened. Luckily, I was able to inherit the house after a lengthy court case and several fuckass lawyers later. I suppose right now though, luckily was the worst word I could have used there. I'll get to that later too. But, that's enough of my dear old grandmother.

    Like I said, while my grandmother dodged the Holocaust, my grandfather did not. He was sent to Auschwitz, one of the largest concentration camps, and, if what I read was correct, one of the most horrifying. He was a kid at the time, him, his twin brother, and his aunt. His father was shot in front of him. The Nazis deemed his father "too weak". I don't want to get too into that, though.

    Anyway, since my grandfather was lucky, well, as lucky as a seven year old in a concentration camp could be, his brother and him were picked out by a doctor that worked there. German guy by the name of Josef Mengele. Known to others as the "Angel of Death". Fun, right?

    Josef was, pardon my french, the sickest fuck I've ever heard of. He'd take twins and sew them together in an effort to make them Siamese. He'd try to change his victims' eye color by injecting various liquids right into their pupils. The guy was fucking insane, and with all the funding a German doctor could get. I've heard horror stories about him all the time. He'd give kids chocolate so they'd think he was a really nice guy. All in all, this fucker should've had his head put on a pike and sent into the sun. That's not very creative, but fuck you, I'm tired.

    Don't ask me how my grandfather made it out, don't ask me how he was able to procreate after seeing all of that disgusting shit, and don't ask me about what happened to his aunt. But I do want you to ask me about his twin brother. Because that's where everything begins to piece together.

    See, my grandfather died ten years ago. The grandfather that I've known for a majority of my life was actually his fucking twin brother.

    I found this out after looking through a bunch of old boxes and shit in my grandmother's attic. Cliche, I know, but hey, that was quite the fucking secret. I'm not sure if my grandmother knew, but it would make sense if she didn't. These boxes were filled with tons of journals that I'm assuming she didn't read, because they were fucking archaic. When I found that out... I got curious. And you what they fucking say, they always fucking say it, curiosity kills the cat.

    I kept digging, I kept going down into this rabbit hole, journal after journal, until I dug up this... weird fucking book. It was bound in velvet and had some Hebrew lettering on it. I probably should've grabbed a photo of it but... I was in a fucking rush to read it, I was thrilled in fact. Fuck past me. Past me is a fucking douche.

    This book was filled with hundreds of these weird ass occult drawings. If I could read Hebrew, I'd give you titles, but the most I could out of them was... they all this theme of revenge. You could just see it in these crude drawings of symbols and man fighting man.

    The one that stuck with me was simple enough. Two wide open eyes, detailed as all fuck. But the oddest thing about them, was that they were both black as the goddamn night. It was like looking into an abyss. I must've stared at them for... at least fifteen minutes. That's when I got too creeped out to continue. I shut the book, through it in the box I found it, and got the hell out of that attic. It felt like something was watching me.

    I dicked around for the rest of the day, trying to get my mind off that image. But I just couldn't. No matter how many games I played, shows I watched, friends I talked to, I just couldn't get those goddamn eyes out of my head. Finally, it was time for me to go to bed. Two in the morning. I laid down, closed my eyes and... nothing.

    Nothing. Fucking nothing. I laid there for three hours, tossing and turning trying to fall asleep. Must've been a bad case of insomnia, right? Must've been one FUCKING bad case. I'm getting angry. That happens. I laid and I laid and finally I just couldn't do it. My body was in a cold sweat. I remember so many tiny details. The time: 4:31 AM. It was too cold. So fucking cold. It couldn't get any worse, I told myself.

    I was never more wrong in my life. It got worse. I trudged through the rest of the day, whatever, I'll pull an all nighter. Right? That's not too hard, right? By the middle of the day, my body felt like it got hit by a car. I just wanted to sleep. I wanted to lay on my bed and sleep for hours and hours. I couldn't. I just. COULDN'T.

    Whenever something traumatic happens to you, your brain begins to come up with ways on end of how to cope with it. False memories. People who were never there. Then, you hallucinate.

    When it first started happening, I reassured myself that it was a hallucination. That it couldn't hurt me. It couldn't possibly hurt me. I was wrong. It did.

    This fucking thing... it started in the attic. How coincidental. I remember laying on my couch at 3:32 PM, trying to sleep when I heard it. Bang. Crash. It hurt my ears it was so fucking loud. It scared the hell out of me. Something must have fell.

    Then I heard the walking. And the stairs to the attic coming down from their hiding hole in the ceiling. And then the creak of the stairsteps. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. It was down the hall now. It was coming for me. It couldn't be real.

    It was. It was real. It was real and it was horrifying. I can try to describe it... but it just hurts thinking about it. Seemed to be a humanoid... but it was tall. So tall. And it was black. It snarled. It was viscous, and it was nothing that any book could give you, any imagination. It was unknown. I ran. Into my room. Maybe it wanted to lock me in hear. It scratched me pretty bad on my shoulder, but maybe that was me, right?

    Then more of them started to happen. I call them Waking Nightmares. It's the only thing that makes sense. This is what happens when you can't sleep, right? Your body hallucinates, your brain begins to fucking defecate horrors into your daylight, the times when you think you're safe, you realize you aren't ever safe. That the molten ball of gas floating in your Solar System can't save you from the horrors of your mind. And you begin to crack. I can't sleep. It's been two days and I can't sleep. The banging on my door just gets louder. I've been drinking water out of my sink, but I haven't had a thing to eat. Maybe that's why the hallucinations are getting worse. I just want to sleep.

    I don't know why this is happening to me. I really don't. Maybe it was the book. Maybe grandfather's twin had a vendetta against all those fucking Nazis who killed his brother. Maybe he was too weak to handle them by himself. That makes sense, right?

    I can hear my mother screaming as she burns alive. Here's what I think. Here's what I really fucking think.

    I think that stuff is always there. Sleep is a way to keep us from seeing them, because they go into our heads and stay there. When you can't sleep, they have nowhere to go but out. And they've always been there.

    I just want to sleep.

  4. #64
    Killing Spree doeordie's Avatar
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    Bout to start bitchin' ain't you
    Ready to start snitchin' ain't you

    I forgive your weak ass hustlin' just ain't you

    Aside from the fast cars
    Hunnies that shake they ass at bars
    You know you wouldn't be involded

    With the underworld dealers, carriers and mac-miller's
    East-coast parties, west-coast cap peelers
    Little monkey niggaz turn gorilla's
    ~BMC~

    skr8 up this yns aint know about them texas boyz

  5. #65
    Killing Spree doeordie's Avatar
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    !vouch

    Yam a real 1 since born, we ~B.M.C~

    get wit it or get stuck gorilla maab 4lyf

  6. #66
    Killing Spree doeordie's Avatar
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    fuck these hataz i dont owe deez nigga
    Last edited by doeordie; January 25th, 2018 at 07:02 PM.

  7. #67
    Don't post my blogs here, thanks
    /u/GranDGranT has helped pay for 231.26 minutes of reddit server time.

    gifts on behalf of /u/GranDGranT have helped pay for 19.78 hours of reddit server time.

    gifts on behalf of /u/Jalapen0s have helped pay for 14.92 hours of reddit server time.

    Quote Originally Posted by Numeta View Post
    whats a Sans battlefury

  8. #68
    Holy Shit yns's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by divine View Post
    Don't post my blogs here, thanks
    Asoul made me. He threatened to doxx me if I didn't

  9. #69
    Wicked Sick iYAMwhatiYAM's Avatar
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    playin some ad2l matches if u wanna tune in


    twitch.tv/iyamwhatiyam_
    Last edited by iYAMwhatiYAM; January 25th, 2018 at 08:52 PM.

  10. #70
    Wicked Sick iYAMwhatiYAM's Avatar
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    playin some ad2l matches if u wanna tune in



    twitch.tv/iyamwhatiyam_

  11. #71
    M-M-M-Monster Kill (In)Finite's Avatar
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    I miss Carson blogs.

    anyone know if he has anything good

  12. #72
    Wicked Sick iYAMwhatiYAM's Avatar
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    gonna play some cs im shit

  13. #73
    Holy Shit Amercchi's Avatar
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    Wow dan
    Quote Originally Posted by Numeta View Post
    You are absolutely lost.

  14. #74
    Wicked Sick iYAMwhatiYAM's Avatar
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    EXCUS EME?

  15. #75
    Wicked Sick iYAMwhatiYAM's Avatar
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    https://www.twitch.tv/iyamwhatiyam_

    streaming some ad2l matches now

  16. #76
    M-M-M-Monster Kill
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    Wait that Carson guy is still around? I figured he woulda offd himself by now

  17. #77
    Wicked Sick iYAMwhatiYAM's Avatar
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    im not fucking carson

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