its finished... finally...
-the citizens of white hill-
bleak daylight.
the hillside.
my home.
my life in a nutshell. a bombshell.
*Rosemary Wether turns from her bedside window and begins to talk to herself*
these are my inner thoughts coming out to play. most of what i say is only realistic to myself and myself alone. by the end you will know the truth about me, when i will not. so youre not going to hear me say i loved every minute of life. youre certainly not going to hear about a nice life in a town called "white hill." also, i have issues with my name meaning what it means. but, well get to that much later. you probably wont pay attention for the whole walkthrough either way. but to someone whos listening, to anyone really, i am in desparate need of help.
to anyone who is willing to help, you have a big surprise coming... from me, personally.
dont worry, this will all make sense in the end.
the citizens of white hill were disappearing one by one. in a random fashion. random meaning, no patterns. a disappearance from the well. a disappearance from the market. a disappearance from the labs. anyone is subject to immidiate invisibility without question.
a nice place to live?
then of course, theres the unexplainable fleshly markings on my wrists. the burns get worse everyday without reason or explanation. more random fashion. white hills rulers are manufacturing the random to the enth degree. every waking period reveals another bruise. but no one helps. no one cares.
im thinking about leaving this town. im also thinking of how weak i am everyday and that ive not the energy to leave. ive not the energy to even talk to myself for more than five minutes at a time. im spinning a verbal rope of bedsheets to escape. nothing works. these are my own idiosyncricies. stuff that my parents use to make fun of when i was very young. does that sound right to you? all parental abuse ends up in white hill.
white hill is the like the melting pot for whatever doesnt make sense.
i look in the mirror every morning. and every morning another crack forms on the smooth, dusty, pale surface. my mirror and i share a symbiant relationship. like an artist trying to paint a self-portrait with both of his eyes gouged out. the people who govern the citizens of white hill are dressed immaculately each day. why am i stuck with rags?
i listen to myself talk for too long and then i think of how my parents aptly named me rosemary. rosemary meaning bitter. am i really that bitter? or am i just searching for the unatainable?
i ask and ask yet, im stuck staring back at a pained reflection each morning. a walking skeleton with no explanation for the markings on her wrists and ankles. not even a decent cup of coffee. not even a decent nights sleep. rumor has it that all of the citizens, in general, never sleep more than 4 hours in one evening. i really wonder why that is. maybe further reflection on why i moved to white hill in the first place, is in order.
go back to the time when dad came home from the hospital. colectomy. i think of have that reminds of of a collection and how your colon is involved. and of course, the doctor collects your colon. you think of how everything looks perfect inside like a nice pink punching bag. afterwards your insides are twisted to resemble a soft, but incredibly mature worm formation, just shivering and trying to burrow its way out through your stomach wall, straight to the outside world. oh the things we release from our insides. so trivial.
then think of how guilt will twist your insides a million, billion times more than any clean surgery. post-colectomy of guilt.
my father was sick for all these years. for my whole life, the term sick was well hidden. silly, poor, dumb, foolish me thought that being sick was some kind of disease. this is when youre just a child and you take everything for granted and you only know what youre told.
this is the parental equivalent to how you'll be lied to again and again in your history class at school.
the way we had heard it, quite plainly, from his own mouth, which he claims to be repeating from the doctor's mouth, is that he had to be hospitalized for months. he needed this hospitalization due to sigmoid colon removal. i needed him hospitalized like i needed a hole in my head. at least one of us got what was coming to us.
you see, the sigmoid colon is the part just above your rectum. if you want to think of it as a mouth, you can. this kind of mouth wouldn't lie as much as some people i know. it can go unwashed for weeks and be completly filthy, but it will always be more trustworthy than a certain someone. i wont mention names. i wont mention the name of the one thats laying on the operating table right now as i speak.
you may need surgery if, you have diverticulitis. the suffix "itis" denotes that theres an inflammation somewhere. what about the one who suffers from an inflammed ego? not to get off the track, but, what do they call that? not that just a plain old mild case of diverticulitis isnt bad enough, you'll need the surgery only if its infected or bleeding. i could tell you what im thinking of right now, but youd never eat squid again. you may need surgery if, you have cancerous or pre cancerous growths on your colon wall.
you may need surgery if you suffer from a broken childhood.
you may need surgery if you've just discovered that everything you knew about your past is a lie.
what comes next is a general anaesthetic by injection and inhalation with an airway tube placed in the windpipe. an epidural catheter may be placed in the back for post-op pain control. thats because we all know that catheters are completly painless. an incision is made in the abdomen, and the abdominal muscles are opened. the sigmoid colon is isolated and clamps are placed at each end. all of the diseased sigmoid colon is cut free and removed. thus forming what looks like that worm we talked about earlier.
after all that and the months of waiting. it turns out that it was a big joke. there was no surgery. no pain. he was there from guilt.
you may need surgery if you are constantly facing the butt of a joke.
guilt is caused by going way off the beaten path. its better for the victims to cut themselves off from the source completly. oh if they only knew how far removed from the source i was by that time...
maybe when i found out the truth, i could have handled things better. dont we all do things we regret? and now what, im left to wake everyday with strange markings on my wrists, ankles, throat.
wrists, ankles, throat. curious.
so this communist society that is white hill, expands. more people arrive each day. i wonder why theyre here. you only reach true enlightenment through a form of pain. at least, thats what they tell us. im starting to think that the only reason they call this town "white hill," is because of how all the people in office only wear white all the time. monday through sunday, white.
just for the record i was moved here against my will. i wanted out of my life, not out of the life i had and into something worse. ive never felt so confined. as a side note ive never heard so much classical music in my entire life. its pumped through loudspeakers at the towns centre. every citizen bears no escape from these melodies.
melodic strangulation. nice.
if i think really hard i can think back to the reason i had to move here to white hill. they called it a nervous breakdown. i was calling out for help. i wasnt nervous. im sorry if i express myself differently. but, it was after our last family outing together. there was much yelling. by the way, thats my life story. yelling.
if you were to ask me about my life. youre just being general. and id say that there was a lot of yelling. screaming. non-stop.
besides that, there was more screaming and anger. i wonder what that really does to the innocent who spend most of their childhood hiding behind the couch. to the needy, innocent child, a couch is like a king's fortress. but to get on and not beat around the bush, the last outing didnt go well. maybe it had something to do with mom finding out about dad's reason for guilt. and for the record, i'm the one who brought everything out in the open.
rosemary wether. bitter. tell-all. too smart to be quiet. quietness is relative. nothing is quiet when inside information is screaming to get out. thats the whole surgery euphamism coming back. when you know something, that worm, that soon to be collectee is squirming its way to the surface. but yea, mom found out. and well, things only went further south from then on. youd think a few months in a hospital wouldve been the time that she'd need to prepare herself for what was to come.
a few years wouldnt have been enough for me.
you may need surgery if youre keeping secrets.
you may need surgery if you need to get away for awhile.
so needless to say i arrived at white hill not too long after that incident. maybe it was destined to happen. but i know that in myself, inside rosemary, lie many questions unanswered. i am a sane person trapped in a mental patients body. i am socially repressed due to the physical wrist, ankle and neck restraints that are placed on me daily. the best part is, i dont even know why. i may never understand what happened to my life. rosemary is in the dark. maybe rosemary is really bitter. ill continue to question my existance and self worth. ill question them even as i peer from between the rusted, steel window bars of my room. even as i stare at the courtyard with its white wooden sign, "white hill insane asylum."
for you the listener, you understand where i am. where ive been. you also understand that i just want answers. im in constant search of truth and understanding of my surroundings. youve been astute enough to make sense of my inner thoughts when i certainly have not. are you able to help me? please hear me. please help me. i need a physical escape. i need a life. i need a new past. i need answers. i need my own bed. i need to lay down and wake up at home as it should have been. oh to live in a world with no uncertainties, with no bars, with no white robes, with good food and warm surroundings.
i, rosemary wether am asking you to help me escape and put me where i really belong.
and that would be just enough.
and thats that.
i love you JB <3 *squeezes*
jd
bleak daylight.
the hillside.
my home.
my life in a nutshell. a bombshell.
*Rosemary Wether turns from her bedside window and begins to talk to herself*
these are my inner thoughts coming out to play. most of what i say is only realistic to myself and myself alone. by the end you will know the truth about me, when i will not. so youre not going to hear me say i loved every minute of life. youre certainly not going to hear about a nice life in a town called "white hill." also, i have issues with my name meaning what it means. but, well get to that much later. you probably wont pay attention for the whole walkthrough either way. but to someone whos listening, to anyone really, i am in desparate need of help.
to anyone who is willing to help, you have a big surprise coming... from me, personally.
dont worry, this will all make sense in the end.
the citizens of white hill were disappearing one by one. in a random fashion. random meaning, no patterns. a disappearance from the well. a disappearance from the market. a disappearance from the labs. anyone is subject to immidiate invisibility without question.
a nice place to live?
then of course, theres the unexplainable fleshly markings on my wrists. the burns get worse everyday without reason or explanation. more random fashion. white hills rulers are manufacturing the random to the enth degree. every waking period reveals another bruise. but no one helps. no one cares.
im thinking about leaving this town. im also thinking of how weak i am everyday and that ive not the energy to leave. ive not the energy to even talk to myself for more than five minutes at a time. im spinning a verbal rope of bedsheets to escape. nothing works. these are my own idiosyncricies. stuff that my parents use to make fun of when i was very young. does that sound right to you? all parental abuse ends up in white hill.
white hill is the like the melting pot for whatever doesnt make sense.
i look in the mirror every morning. and every morning another crack forms on the smooth, dusty, pale surface. my mirror and i share a symbiant relationship. like an artist trying to paint a self-portrait with both of his eyes gouged out. the people who govern the citizens of white hill are dressed immaculately each day. why am i stuck with rags?
i listen to myself talk for too long and then i think of how my parents aptly named me rosemary. rosemary meaning bitter. am i really that bitter? or am i just searching for the unatainable?
i ask and ask yet, im stuck staring back at a pained reflection each morning. a walking skeleton with no explanation for the markings on her wrists and ankles. not even a decent cup of coffee. not even a decent nights sleep. rumor has it that all of the citizens, in general, never sleep more than 4 hours in one evening. i really wonder why that is. maybe further reflection on why i moved to white hill in the first place, is in order.
go back to the time when dad came home from the hospital. colectomy. i think of have that reminds of of a collection and how your colon is involved. and of course, the doctor collects your colon. you think of how everything looks perfect inside like a nice pink punching bag. afterwards your insides are twisted to resemble a soft, but incredibly mature worm formation, just shivering and trying to burrow its way out through your stomach wall, straight to the outside world. oh the things we release from our insides. so trivial.
then think of how guilt will twist your insides a million, billion times more than any clean surgery. post-colectomy of guilt.
my father was sick for all these years. for my whole life, the term sick was well hidden. silly, poor, dumb, foolish me thought that being sick was some kind of disease. this is when youre just a child and you take everything for granted and you only know what youre told.
this is the parental equivalent to how you'll be lied to again and again in your history class at school.
the way we had heard it, quite plainly, from his own mouth, which he claims to be repeating from the doctor's mouth, is that he had to be hospitalized for months. he needed this hospitalization due to sigmoid colon removal. i needed him hospitalized like i needed a hole in my head. at least one of us got what was coming to us.
you see, the sigmoid colon is the part just above your rectum. if you want to think of it as a mouth, you can. this kind of mouth wouldn't lie as much as some people i know. it can go unwashed for weeks and be completly filthy, but it will always be more trustworthy than a certain someone. i wont mention names. i wont mention the name of the one thats laying on the operating table right now as i speak.
you may need surgery if, you have diverticulitis. the suffix "itis" denotes that theres an inflammation somewhere. what about the one who suffers from an inflammed ego? not to get off the track, but, what do they call that? not that just a plain old mild case of diverticulitis isnt bad enough, you'll need the surgery only if its infected or bleeding. i could tell you what im thinking of right now, but youd never eat squid again. you may need surgery if, you have cancerous or pre cancerous growths on your colon wall.
you may need surgery if you suffer from a broken childhood.
you may need surgery if you've just discovered that everything you knew about your past is a lie.
what comes next is a general anaesthetic by injection and inhalation with an airway tube placed in the windpipe. an epidural catheter may be placed in the back for post-op pain control. thats because we all know that catheters are completly painless. an incision is made in the abdomen, and the abdominal muscles are opened. the sigmoid colon is isolated and clamps are placed at each end. all of the diseased sigmoid colon is cut free and removed. thus forming what looks like that worm we talked about earlier.
after all that and the months of waiting. it turns out that it was a big joke. there was no surgery. no pain. he was there from guilt.
you may need surgery if you are constantly facing the butt of a joke.
guilt is caused by going way off the beaten path. its better for the victims to cut themselves off from the source completly. oh if they only knew how far removed from the source i was by that time...
maybe when i found out the truth, i could have handled things better. dont we all do things we regret? and now what, im left to wake everyday with strange markings on my wrists, ankles, throat.
wrists, ankles, throat. curious.
so this communist society that is white hill, expands. more people arrive each day. i wonder why theyre here. you only reach true enlightenment through a form of pain. at least, thats what they tell us. im starting to think that the only reason they call this town "white hill," is because of how all the people in office only wear white all the time. monday through sunday, white.
just for the record i was moved here against my will. i wanted out of my life, not out of the life i had and into something worse. ive never felt so confined. as a side note ive never heard so much classical music in my entire life. its pumped through loudspeakers at the towns centre. every citizen bears no escape from these melodies.
melodic strangulation. nice.
if i think really hard i can think back to the reason i had to move here to white hill. they called it a nervous breakdown. i was calling out for help. i wasnt nervous. im sorry if i express myself differently. but, it was after our last family outing together. there was much yelling. by the way, thats my life story. yelling.
if you were to ask me about my life. youre just being general. and id say that there was a lot of yelling. screaming. non-stop.
besides that, there was more screaming and anger. i wonder what that really does to the innocent who spend most of their childhood hiding behind the couch. to the needy, innocent child, a couch is like a king's fortress. but to get on and not beat around the bush, the last outing didnt go well. maybe it had something to do with mom finding out about dad's reason for guilt. and for the record, i'm the one who brought everything out in the open.
rosemary wether. bitter. tell-all. too smart to be quiet. quietness is relative. nothing is quiet when inside information is screaming to get out. thats the whole surgery euphamism coming back. when you know something, that worm, that soon to be collectee is squirming its way to the surface. but yea, mom found out. and well, things only went further south from then on. youd think a few months in a hospital wouldve been the time that she'd need to prepare herself for what was to come.
a few years wouldnt have been enough for me.
you may need surgery if youre keeping secrets.
you may need surgery if you need to get away for awhile.
so needless to say i arrived at white hill not too long after that incident. maybe it was destined to happen. but i know that in myself, inside rosemary, lie many questions unanswered. i am a sane person trapped in a mental patients body. i am socially repressed due to the physical wrist, ankle and neck restraints that are placed on me daily. the best part is, i dont even know why. i may never understand what happened to my life. rosemary is in the dark. maybe rosemary is really bitter. ill continue to question my existance and self worth. ill question them even as i peer from between the rusted, steel window bars of my room. even as i stare at the courtyard with its white wooden sign, "white hill insane asylum."
for you the listener, you understand where i am. where ive been. you also understand that i just want answers. im in constant search of truth and understanding of my surroundings. youve been astute enough to make sense of my inner thoughts when i certainly have not. are you able to help me? please hear me. please help me. i need a physical escape. i need a life. i need a new past. i need answers. i need my own bed. i need to lay down and wake up at home as it should have been. oh to live in a world with no uncertainties, with no bars, with no white robes, with good food and warm surroundings.
i, rosemary wether am asking you to help me escape and put me where i really belong.
and that would be just enough.
and thats that.
i love you JB <3 *squeezes*
jd