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[marasamsara]

The End

This blog will not be updated. At least I very much hope I will not post anything here anymore. Because if I did, I will have failed. The Mara at the other path will have stood up from the bench and walked on. I want her to remain sitting.

I will no longer read any messages or asks sent to me here. I will not delete this blog. It is a monument of my past. A manifestation of the other Mara. I do not hate or despise her. I guess she will always be a part of me. But I wish her to remain dormant.

I am not sorry or feel bad for anything I posted here. If you feel offended by anything this still is solely your own problem. And, for the avoidance of doubt, I do not believe that I am or will become a better person. Good/evil (in an objective sense) is still not a valid concept for me. I, personally and completely subjectively, want to turn into a person my loved ones would not despise. Maybe sometimes I will think I became a better person. If so, it will be fine.

So, this is it. I hope it is.

So long.

Mara (the one on the original path)

[marasamsara]

Two Maras

In my very beginning, a path unfolded before me. As I began to walk this path, step by step, new sections continued to unfold. I can still see as they do, the newly set path is never too far away.

At some early point, a path branched off. It was not a fork, a little path branched off the main one. For a while, the two paths went parallel. Bit by bit, sometimes more, sometimes less, the other path led further away.

When my mind was filled with pure pain just recently, I was able to look down upon myself as if I were a bird in the sky. And what I saw hurt me right at my core and nearly tore me apart. Only now I saw how far away the other path is. So distant, in fact, that I can hardly see it anymore from my original path. And on that other path, I saw another Mara. All this time, I walked with that other Mara. Each step, we took together.

It became clear to me that sometimes I was this Mara, and sometimes the other. But since the paths were so distant from each other, I cannot be both of them.

It became clear to me, looking down from above, that the Mara on the branched off path, maybe sooner, maybe later, will fall into an abyss. And when she does, she will drag the other Mara with her. Both will fall into the darkness, from which they will not be able to crawl out of. The one Mara will take everything away from the other. All, she holds dear and everyone she loves. And what hurts the most, it became so very clear to me, that the people I love would despise me, would they be able to see the other Mara on that path leading to the abyss as I do from above. I can hardly bear that realization.

I, therefore, made a decision. I decided I want to be the Mara on the original path. And I want the Mara on the other path to stop walking, sit down on a bench and stay right there. I want to hug her and tell her it is alright. After all, she did not decide to take this path, she just happened to walk it. And I would like to think she was pushed down this path by something or someone. I want to ask the other Mara to please stop and sit down. Please, do it for the both of us. Please, Mara. Please listen to me.

I am now back on the original path. I have stumbled, fallen and badly hurt myself. But I managed to get back on my feet, and maybe I have already made my first step. I look over to the distant other path. There, I can see the other Mara. She really sits on a bench, and looks over to me. She even waves at me, and maybe she is smiling.

I want to walk on. Alone. On this path, not also on the other. I hope that with each step, the pain will subside a little more. And in years to come, I so much wish to look back and see that it was good. That the other Mara still happily sits on her bench. Please, keep sitting there. I beg you. Please, do it for us both.

[marasamsara]

"MORE WOMEN GET RAPED THAN MEN" Jeez! Finally some good news! How could that have escaped me so far!

Thank you for fostering misandry. High five, dude.

[marasamsara]

This time is different. I do not hate myself. I am disgusted by myself.

[marasamsara]

Every religion has their messiah, their redeemer or saviour. The chosen one, who will bring deliverance and enlightenment. Right now, I feel as a chosen one too. Only at the other side of the spectrum. I was chosen for all the bad and despicable qualities a human being can possess. I was chosen by the darkness, not the light. And that feels fucking terrible. Maybe this is a good sign, that I feel like crap. I don’t know. I only know that 99.9% of the population would hate me, knew they who I really was and not only see the social role I am playing.

[marasamsara]

I guess I never felt that far outside of society as now. I’m feeling terrible. Like a sick, hideous and horrible being. Like a monster. Great. Really great. I’ve been slapped in the face by reality couple of times. But this time, it was a kick in my stomach, with a run up. Thanks life, I hate you. Just as you hate me.

[marasamsara]

As it seems, this show is dead anyway, now that Ruby Rose has announced not to sign up for season 2. I can’t express in words how sad this makes me. Hehe.

While I like the LGBTQ+ agenda in Batwoman, this show seriously has the worst storyline ever. Whoever wrote the scripts should be forced to swallow a batarang.

[marasamsara]

That at least some pieces of me finally, after so many years, make sense feels so fucking good. I feel like my old me (whoever that is) has stopped in the middle of the path and a new me has emerged right next to the old one. They both smile at each other, and then the new me walks on.

[marasamsara]

This is so true! Thank you for this! <3

Do you honestly think these "genders" exist?

I honestly think that there's almost 8 billion people in the world and there's no way that two very rigid words describe every one of them.

[marasamsara]

Soooooo ... found out that I’m non-binary. Genderfluid actually. My mind went click, a mental light bulb lit up aaaaaand ... there was the revelation. Another piece of the puzzle, and it even fits. I wonder how many more pieces I’ll discover ...

[marasamsara]

Everybody else on tumblr disagrees with you on that take

Good. Hate to be mainstream.

[marasamsara]

While I like the LGBTQ+ agenda in Batwoman, this show seriously has the worst storyline ever. Whoever wrote the scripts should be forced to swallow a batarang.

[marasamsara]

Dark Avatar

This is my version of a dark Avatar (known from Atavar - The Last Airbender and The Legend of Korra). I adore Korra and love the Avatar universe. And if you don’t like this dark Avatar version, then go fuck yourself. (Also, I have not proofread or in any way revised the story.)

____________________________________

The bartender looks like an ugly version of Steve Buscemi. The scotch he puts in front of me lacks at least one finger. I let him get away with it, the dick’s not worth it. Not this time. To vent my anger, I put a cigarette between my lips, light it with my will and take a deep, deep drag. Better. And when I exhale through my nose, it is even better. Cool looks make everything more bearable. I decide to play a little with the smoke. I catch it, form it to an orb and then let little streams shoot out of it in random directions. Fucking looks like an explosion or something. Totally rad. Until I hear that voice.

»You the Avatar?« it says.

I turn left and look into the face of a mother. I know she not merely is a woman, because she is holding hands with her little sun. He, too, is staring at me. Not madly, though, as his mother.

»… fuck you care?« I say and take another drag which almost consumes the rest of the cigarette.

She orders a cola and an orange juice and then gives me the look. The look, ya know? The look only a perfect mother can give a slutty bitch.

»You’re a disgrace.« she tells me.

The barkeep gives her the drinks. I exhale more forcefully than I intend and blow the smoke almost directly into his eyes.

»Come, Fred. Let us sit down back there.« the perfect mother tells her even more perfect son and leads him to the back of the café.

Yeah. I know. I’m boozing at the bar in a fucking café. At one pm. On Tuesday. For complaints, please write a handwritten statement and shove it up you cunt’s pussy. Wrapped around a brick, preferably. I’m not even allowed to smoke in here. No one is, ‘cause the fucking government is caring so much about their people that they chose to ban smoking at all nice places. Even in kindergartens. Is that even a word? Up yours, pricks …

I turn around on my bar stool and behold the people. How they enjoy their coffees and cakes. How they are immersed in checking their fucking phones and writing Pulitzer price worthy messages. And don’t lecture me on what the Pulitzer price is, I happen to know, you know? Fuck you.

I snap my finger. Several times. Finally, the dickhead barkeep cares to look. I point at my glass, empty it in one go and then beckon him to fill the darn glass up again. But Buscemi frowns. What the …?

»Whassrong with you?« I say.

»I better give you the bill.« he says.

What now?

It’s only one fucking pm! There’s time to down plenty more of those scotches. But with the right finger measure, you know what I mean? Nope, Buscemi hands me the bill. On a little silver plate. Is this the darn Ritz or something? Is Gene Kelly about to jump out from behind the counter and sing how much fun it is to fucking dance in the rain?

»Hey, dude …« I say and make some gestures.

The barkeep ignores me and polishes a glass.

Really?!

The empty glass in my hand melts to a steaming lump.

Really?!?!

I throw the steaming lump at the wall. It pierces through and makes a thud noise as it hits something. Fucking shithole. Then I put a quarter or two on the counter and take my leave. I owe them like twenty or thirty, but I don’t care. Who’s gonna stop me anyway? The coppers? Hah! Being the Avatar has its perks.

I stumble on the sidewalk and look around. Busy, busy people everywhere. All dressed up nicely for their offices. And casting weird looks at me. Never seen a drunk master of the elements before, dipshits?

Naw, I’m not drunk. I am enlightened. I am connected to my spiritual side. Yeah, that’s what I am. Very spiritual. Like fucking Buddha, that fat bastard.

As I walk down the sidewalk, people keep bumping into me. Can’t you watch out, assholes? The next piece of crap, who’s about to bump into me, I swear, I’m gonna airbend to the moon. And so I do. The guy flies off like a mosquito on acid. Whoa, there he goes. Can’t even see where he lands. T’was a good one. Hehe.

I stumble on. But not really, because someone is holding me back at the shoulder. I whirl around and grab him at the neck. Don’t do that. Don’t ever fucking do that. Dark red energy fills my chest. And then I smell burned flesh. My hand got fired up a bit. Charred the guy’s neck. Collared him like a fucking slave or something. Sorry, pal. Don’t mess with the Avatar, didn’t ya know?

I’m getting fed up walking, so I channel fire from my arms and fly away like fucking Apollo. The rocket, not the god. Gods are all dead. I am the only one left. I land in another district, which is not well-known for its good schools, to put it that way. A car is burning, some trash cans too, graffiti everywhere, even on the sidewalks. I like this place, because here people tend to ignore me, should they happen to recognize my face at all. Here, everyone minds their own business.

Without a goal in mind I wander around. As I take a turn, I see a bunch of police cars. Not burning, and with their disco lights on. The coppers are pointing their pistols and assault rifles at a minimart. A guy is standing in front of it, some dollar bills at his feet, and a gun in his hand, pointed at the head of a little boy in his grip. My legs up their pace.

The coppers yell at the man to drop the gun and let the boy go. The guy yells back that the coppers shall fuck off or he’s gonna put a slug in the boy’s head. Now, I am running.

»Everybody! Move back!« I shout.

The officers turn around, some are taking aim at me.

»Move back! Get fucking lost!« I yell at the top off my lungs.

One officer starts yelling something back and I lose it. I stop so abruptly that my foot digs into the asphalt. I clench my fists and stomp at the ground with my other foot. With a metallic bang, all the copper’s weapons shatter to pieces. One or two officers get hurt by shrapnel. Then I widen my stance and my fists light up in bright red flames.

»Move. It!« I say, »Now!«

My eyes must have lightened up red, because now the coppers run for it. They know red is bad. The guy with the boy held hostage in front of him takes aim at me. I let him keep his gun. I have it in my mental grip. He can’t move it one bit without me letting him.

»Go away!« he shouts at me, »Go away, or I’ll kill the boy!«

»Not gonna happen, pal.« I say.

He points the gun back at the boys head. The kid is crying and at the brink of breaking down. Time to end this.

The flames at my fists turn almost white like welding torches. The gun in the guy’s hand melts. As he drops it with a cry of pain, the kid runs away. His tormentor wants to flee, but I form one of the cop’s gun shrapnel into a metal band and bend it around his neck. Gasping for air he nearly drops to the ground, but I bend the metal up, just enough to keep him in a strangle hold.

»So, pal. Tell me, is it fun, torturing kids?« I say, noticing the dark smoke coming out of my throat.

»P … Please! Let … Let me go!« he croaks, hardly able to breathe.

»No can do.« I grin, slowly shaking my head.

I bend another gun shrapnel and let it penetrate the guys knee. Another one into his shoulder, the other knee, the thigh, arm, everywhere, until he looks like a voodoo doll. Blood is pouring out of him and amassing in a growing puddle beneath him.

»Let me feast on your agony.« I say with flames licking out of my mouth.

And then I light up his clothes. His screams are wonderful, as he hangs there from the metal band around his neck with the bolts everywhere in his body, and with the flames slowly burning through the layers of his skin. When the flames have consumed the cloth, I keep them alive with my bending powers. The limbs first, torso next, and face for last. The scent of burning flesh is unique. Nothing like backyard BBQ.

When he had enough and left this world, I stomp at the ground bending up a metal lance impaling him through his ass and out of his skull. There he hangs, impaled like a fried fish on a stick. My eyes turn normal again, and no more flames coming out of my mouth. I turn around and see quite some people standing close, shooting videos and taking pictures with their smartphones.

»Fuck you.« I say.

They leave a passage for me as I take my leave. I can’t help but bend most of the phones to pieces of scrap metal. Some, I leave intact. Will be rad to see the footage on youtube.

[marasamsara]

I’m feeling so extremely relieved right now. Such a heavy burden has been lifted off my shoulders. Oh fuck, I have almost forgotten how nice it feels to be in a good mood.

[marasamsara]

My mind is a ghost that the others can’t see. It mostly even hides from myself.

[marasamsara]

Duettin - A substance which splits the personality in two so that persons will discuss with themselves about arbitrary subjects.

Omg, Stanislaw Lem is such a genius. Read The Futurological Congress, it is stunning and absolutely awesome.

[marasamsara]

When your feelings knot themselves together in your mind so that not a single thread can make itself heard in real life anymore ...