The Funeral Procession for Scarlet Eclectic

Hi!! Are you surprised to hear from me again? I never gave myself a proper burial and it’s been eight days. I know, I know, we always joked that I’d be late to my own funeral and I am. I’m late at finishing the process of dying itself, too, like how is this scarlet bitch still typing?

Now that you know there is a corpse typing on her computer in our vicinity and you’re x degree of alarmed, let’s talk straight for a second. Or as straight as you can manage. Straight like totally pure and unaffected by anything. Probably disgusting but don’t make a face or anything, shhhhh be strong. You thought that I left, and I made you all think that I was leaving, but I didn’t know my destination yet. I needed a new name, and that was the only thing holding me back. So tonight, I sat down and I tried to think of one for the first time, and it came to me exactly a fraction of a second later and I had my destination. I guess there is an afterlife after all and in it, the sun and moon and everything you know is in darkness, and everybody’s dancing, and they’re tipsy. No, I’m not sure how we can see them if it’s dark, either. Maybe we’ve gained feline vision in the afterlife.

Before I start shoveling the dirt on myself (because I couldn’t afford gravediggers and killing two birds with one stone is more efficient, anyway), I just want to thank you. It wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t, like, I never thought I’d leave a suicide note when I went, but maybe eight days after you die, it hits you that you could’ve really said something and you didn’t. Thank you. Thank you for reading all this, even though I probably made some of you feel like if you knew my name, it would be worse than death for me. I secretly wanted you to. And so it didn’t turn out to be worse than death, and death isn’t that bad, either (plus it looks like you’d rather just read this and I theoretically die, because that’s how impossible it was to stop you). Death happens to everyone, and it has to come sometime. Why not now? This isn’t really a great time for philosophical debate considering I’ve almost covered my legs. I’m not sure how I’ll cover my arms and everything if I’m also wielding the shovel. Damn, maybe this isn’t the most efficient. Too late to stop now. If I can, I will find you in the next life and the next. If I don’t, then please find me. Because if I don’t, it was because I couldn’t, not because I didn’t want to, and what’s a story without some fucking continuity?


~Scarlet Eclectic


Conclusion of Consequence

I hate to admit that you’ve taken my name (reminder: you can’t take what I am), but we’re not safe here anymore. The circle is closing, so make a run for it. If you care to know our destination, ask me directly or my good friend, Jonathan. I’m sure he knows exactly just where we’re headed by now. See you on the other side, doll face.



the signs**


just another chump

Long term effects of abuse and neglect include:

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the spell of sleep, the lull of dreams.

i went back to the bathroom and i don’t think that girl’s okay because she’s still in the stall and her hair is literally touching the floor so she must be all dramatically hunched over. i stayed there for a minute washing off my face paint, long enough to realize she’s…snoring? that means she’s okay, right? god, i feel like an asshole. but a really concerned asshole.

why am i awake? why am i asleep? why am i awake? why am i asleep? why am i awake? why am i awake? why am i awake? why am i awake?

i digress. i am awake because i am almost always awake. nothing new or original to see here.

i’ve spent almost this entire day thinking it was sunday even though i was completely and totally aware in my mind that it’s not sunday.

i find it funny how sometimes you spend hours and days and weeks and months overthinking and debating something you already knew in your heart to be true.


have we been blowing up?

HAHAHAHAHA hello i’m about to die laughing because i just walked into our big and beautiful shared bathroom and there was a girl in the middle stall who i literally thought was having an orgasm until i realized she was either puking or forcing herself to puke and. what kind of sick sense of humor does this girl have anyway? you’re probably thinking. not as sick as that girl, sweet cheeks. i half feel like an asshole for walking out but i also don’t have morals so i don’t think i feel too bad.

there’s a discussion we could have. do i have a moral code? let’s see.

theft. if it’s a personal possession, it’s completely wrong to steal it because of mutual “i don’t steal what’s yours, you don’t steal what’s mine” naturally occurring binding trust blah blah blah. if it’s something being sold for money, i have no issue with stealing it, except anxiety. does somebody technically own those things? i guess. do i care? only if it makes me have a panic attack. what if someone is selling their personal possession? well then i guess there are reasons to believe it’s not really that personal to them.

murder. i’d say this is pretty bad, but i’m not really an expert in this area. i think in general, if you’re looking out for yourself, you shouldn’t do it, just because the authorities will care. if it’s a revenge killing, it might be morally acceptable.

cheating on someone. pretty bad, but it gives you depth, sweetheart. would never happen with me because of this thing called LOYALTY which i take far too seriously for this age in which none of us are knights. “cut the toxic people out of your life?” yeah, maybe on my deathbed. poison me, diego.

breaking someone’s heart. necessary evil. will probably still cause you a lot of pain if you haven’t quite evolved into a classically emotional sadist yet. maybe because it was an accident. and even if whatever you’re causing them couldn’t possibly even wrestle with what they caused you. oh, no. you won’t feel like crying when they cry like you always do when someone else cries, but you’ll still let them hold your hand for a minute longer and you’ll still let them kiss you one last time “for old time’s sake” instead of running the fuck away like you’re finally free because you feel bad, maybe not even for hurting them but for how FUCKING TRANSPARENT THEY ARE. (look away, this is a private conversation.)

rape. WOWWW THAT SURE IS A SIN. (want to hear me say something fucked up? there’s nothing i can’t relate to.)

lying. i don’t consider this a sin and i don’t see anything wrong with it morally. i guess it’s kind of a philosophical choice. the only people i really lie to are my parents, and only in self defense. there’s no reason for me to lie to anyone else. unless i’m trying to gain something. in which case, no, i don’t think it’s wrong. the only thing that could be wrong is me not getting what i want.

cheating in general. if it’s a game, i think it ruins the integrity. if it’s academia or the government, then definitely do not hesitate to cheat the system, unless you’re gonna get caught.

lust/gluttony/greed/covetouness. why feel guilty about your desires.

sloth. i don’t see the appeal, therefore, it’s a sin.

wrath. but can you avoid it? no, and really, it’s enlightening, so it’s not a sin. just make sure you apologize and act all sweet again. the people get frightened.

envy. if you feel envy, you’re not being enough of a narcissist, which is a sin.

pride. if you feel pride, you’re not being self-deprecating enough, which is a sin.

blasphemy/false worship. if you’re doing something you don’t believe in and tainting the name of something you do believe in, you better think it’s a fucking sin.

idolatry. whatever makes it feel real, sweetheart.

using the lord’s name in vain. i’d be real happy if you used my name in vain, sweetheart.


rebellion against parents. you have got to be kidding me.

negligent homicide. you tried.

bestiality. dude what the fuck.

fornication. please call the police.

corruption. oh, definitely a sin, but a very easy and understandable one.

intoxication. give it a shot.

refusing to forgive…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

and then it got too real and we stopped having fun.




let’s have a vote of confidence.

i stopped smoking for about a month but SURPRISE a few days ago i just had to start back up again because that’s how much i’ve fucking missed it. i was doing so well. what fucking ever. it’s not a lot and it’s on and off so i don’t concern myself. i don’t even need it for any kind of ounce of gratification except smelling like smoke everywhere i go, which was probably psychologically instilled in me by all the secondhand smoke from my childhood that my mom always warned me against but didn’t realize everyone else was warming me up to it.

she can’t possibly care enough anyway because she knows i smoke. i even admitted it to her. then again, i also told her i quit and maybe she believed me. and i wasn’t lying. and i really don’t smoke all too much, not even when i’m in a mood. it’s not that fact that bothers me, it’s the fact that for such explosive people, my parents are…just that. they explode, alright. and then in the aftermath, everybody forgets it. i bet if i literally overdosed on heroin in front of them, my parents wouldn’t even send me to rehab or anything. they’d just explode, show me a documentary on the dangers of heroin, and then forget it. not enough not to bring it back into conversation as backlash every once in a while. but enough for exploding once to be enough of an event not to warrant any more action. i bet if i broke my brother’s leg, my mom would come to my bedside threatening to break my arm and my dad threatening to break my other arm, and i’d scream in fear and then they’d crawl away and we’d all just get on with our lives. i don’t know why i’m connecting these dots now because it’s all happened a million times before.

if i were to write myself a self-help book directed specifically at me, it would maybe be titled “how to stop feeling mildly (or wildly) betrayed when people go to bed” or “a surprising revelation: lying down and shutting your eyes may directly lead to falling asleep: a memoir.”

it makes me fucking mad when other people get “concerned” about me, because first of all, it feels patronizing, second of all, i can fucking take care of myself and i always feel like i’m doing a pretty good job at taking care of myself, bare evidence of which to me is just the bare minimum that i am alive and not maimed and not in the hospital and not deranged to the max. however, i also really hate it when someone i deeply want to be concerned about me just never is in a way that would lead to them confronting me about it no matter what i do, maybe because the things i do are also the norm for them, and then i get it into my mind that i have to do even more and more drastic things to get them to pay attention to me, maybe like, say, make a suicide attempt that i know will only ever be an attempt. however, i know by now that that’s never going to happen because in order to attempt a suicide that i know will only ever amount to that, i will have to be confident that i will be okay, and if i end up in the hospital, that really sinks my levels of confidence, and because my body knows i must survive and my mind is part of my body, that is never going to happen.

so i’m thinking all of this and i’m making all of these mad connections until i can basically sum up every motive i’ve ever had in my life as “PLEASE NOTICE HOW MISERABLE I AM. PLEASE NOTICE HOW WRONG I AM” and i can tell you it’s worked exactly a sub zero amount of times at least in the way i would define success. to you, if you’re reading this, you know by now that everything i say is completely delusional, because i’ve just contradicted the last paragraph, but the only way i judge things is by feeling i’m just feeling my way through the dark here.

i got this whole “summing up my motives” idea from this book i’m reading that’s sort of an autobiography of one of my idols, which is kind of funny, cause the first time i skimmed it (which apparently means reading for me, because out of the 50-something pages i read today, i can definitely attest that i’ve read most of them already but i read them again), all i was thinking was 1) i wish i could be that cool, and the second time i actually went back to read it, i was now thinking 2) i am definitely cooler than you. and my autobiography that i’ll never write, because it’s better to keep secrets and clearly i’m too modest, is gonna be way prettier than yours. do i love myself now?

maybe i’ll let you live now, girl, but i’m coming for your soul, your walls better be sky-high by the time i get back around to you because i will topple them no matter what and all you can do against me is maybe stall.

i’d maybe end this with a passive aggressive comment about how i’m too much, but the truth is, i love being too much. i love knowing nobody can handle me, except me, and that makes me feel like a real fucking strong and special snowflake. sometimes, it’s kind of a shame, but i get over it by making myself into the chosen one again.

i urge all of you to just think of life as a fun video game. as a rule, you have to suffer before you can really get anywhere, so don’t let this discourage you. things you need will just pop up all around you and it’s so exciting, so try to read into everything as much as possible or you’ll miss the signs. dying is stupid, because the point is to keep fucking playing and don’t be a loser, and remember, if you end up homeless, it’s all okay because nothing’s real.

i don’t know why i’m delving into these deep dark levels of caffeine at deep dark night but they’re gonna stop my heart.



Callum’s been having this extraterrestrial crisis and so much to keep up with– it’s nice to feel so needed, but I’m getting a better perspective on what it’s like for these things to be concurrent—. Anyway, I hope everything works out for all my friends. I care about them so much. But I know it will. I know Callum’s gonna find things that make life worth living for him and he’ll stop being the aftermath of totally and utterly dead inside and move onto whatever comes after. Jill got into Becker. And Cal just asked out this salamander man he’s been crushing on and he asked me to give him a motivational speech so he could do it, and I did, but I took so long that I guess he did it anyway before he even read it. I told him he never needed me, and I want to say maybe I never needed anyone, either, but I know none of us really think that– maybe we just needed someone there making us feel real. I know Hannah’s gonna find things to make her happy. I know my mom’s gonna be happy. I know Colin’s gonna move out and be happy. I know Kris is gonna take care of herself and be okay. I know everybody’s gonna do all of that. Jonathan. And Michael. And Eireann. And my brother. And all of us. And the only way it’ll happen is if we’re there for each other. And I know we will be And if I believe all of them will find that for themselves, why on earth should I not believe it for myself?


divine power as a victim of circumstance.

12:09 a.m. trying to do my math homework Kristen calls me and she’s upset

1:25 a.m. talking to Kristen under the covers kind of want some cake

2:02 a.m. passing out– I set my alarm for 4 in the morning because I know I haven’t finished but I’m so tired. I have class at 9 in the morning.

4:00 a.m. keep sleeping probably don’t even hear it.

7:15 a.m. oh my god but it’s okay I have two more hours and I can finish this.

8:45 a.m. just kidding I have an hour. I’ll probably need to pay someone to help me cheat because I’m dumb

9:36 a.m. Never mind I finished I’m a genius let’s go walk through the snow

I try to give my homework to my professor.

She says it’s due in discussion section at 4:40.


Keep walking. I look pretty good for someone who has slept in her clothes for the past couple of nights and hasn’t showered in x number of days. Maybe looking this worn out is part of my charm or maybe I always do. Snow is falling everywhere and I let it. It covers my hair it falls on my eyelashes so there’s just whiteness obscuring my vision, I let it stay but it doesn’t stay long.

I would go visit my mom today but I have six classes so it’s a no-go. I think I’m supposed to do lights tonight but I’m tragically uninformed. Somehow I am still tired. I have to do my film project today and I don’t know what I’m doing for it at all yet. I was also supposed to revise my literary analyses for last night but I don’t think my professor is fazed anymore when I don’t hand something in on time because I’ve asked for so many extensions and that was before all of this even started happening. I hate how lenient he’s gotten with me. I hate it. Hold me to the same standards as everyone else. Maybe my entire world is ending around me and it probably is but don’t let me get away with this shit, douchebag.

My mom called me this morning to make sure I got to class on time and I snapped at her and told her it’s not a good time for me to talk and then she hung up and yesterday, she tried to get me to eat fruit and angel cake she saved for me and my brother from whatever food they gave her in the hospital and at first, I was like “I don’t eat hospital food,” but then I ate it anyway after being an asshole about it for like half an hour. I tell Kris all these details and no one else because nobody else asks or makes me feel like they’re asking. Or maybe we just happen to talk on the phone.


what did i wish for at the trevi fountain?

i’m not on dead air but i’m listening to jack’s voice. it doesn’t lose a single good element in it even when he stutters.

I’m in this really weird spot in my life where everyone is bailing out on me. Or maybe it’s not weird. Maybe this is the new normal and it’s bye time.

on the t, i’ve been engaging in this hobby. i call it ginger drooling. basically, i take small sip of ginger ale, but i keep my mouth open, and i let it drip down and onto my face and my clothes. i make eye contact with as many people as i can.

i did this on the way back from the hospital.

they like their ginger ale in the hospitals. and gatorade. it’s all disgusting.

i’ll be honest with you. i don’t even know what a mortgage is and i don’t want to know.

i just realized i’ve been a judgmental asshole and i need to stop. i’ve always felt alienated from people i perceive as wildly different than me but i’ve taken it too far and i think i’ve taken it too far in my mind and i’m gonna try to be more open. i’m just telling you this so you hold me to it.

today i listened to somebody talk

without saying anything

it felt good.

can’t quite recall.

i’m surprised by the amount of people who have told me something they weren’t going to tell me after i said to them “I won’t judge you.” who ever knew that would work

theory: i’m uncomfortable around people i don’t know well because i’m uncomfortable with the idea of someone not being able to place me or placing me wrongly, or me not being able to place someone or placing them wrongly. put my finger on them. stick my finger on them.

keeping myself awake laughing at everything i say.

hi world,

i’ll tell you a secret.

i don’t know what i wished for at the trevi fountain.