Considering the amount of catastrophic destruction that is tearing apart the very fabrications of my makeshift bedroom right now, it is my unfortunate duty to have to keep this update fairly brief and devoid of a proper conclusion as to what the fuck I am going through in reality AND inside this deranged eggshell of a noggin.
First and most certainly foremost, I have realized what it is that has developed inside me that has infected my very being with the incapability to properly dismember an infant. And that is Empathy. No, not the emotion, a sentient consciousness that is currently hard at work to throw all that is the ANARCHITECT and lock me away in the darkest confines of my twisted and possessed mind.
Through countless arguments and torrential mental deterioration, I must admit that I am failing miserably at keeping back that which calls herself Elliot. Mind you in ways I am talking about the original, untainted mental state that use to be my actual self before it was purged and the wicked facade that is me was so tenderly placed within the confines of this pretty little skull.
And something.... that Man with crooked arms is doing something to me, removing me like I am some unholy symbiote and leaving the vulnerable and incapable Elliot behind! Which I must make perfectly clear is NOT a good thing!
Unleashing that waif is only going to leave me incapable of properly protecting myself from that monstrosity or my estranged father!!!! Elliot is weak. She has not been in direct control since I first killed her parents. She has NO idea of the dangers the man with crooked arms poses to her.
Which is obviously his demonic plan, to remove the conflict and leave only the tender gullibility to mold into some sort of travesty of what I'm supposed to be. A proud proxy in the arms of my almighty father! Though yes I understand He has tried to kill me on multiple occasions... and yes He's pretty much removed from any legitimate affection on His part...
The fact that the Man with crooked arms is going through the trouble of UNMAKING MY FUCKING MIND is to use me for something... something I have no idea of yet... and I fear by the time I do learn of his malicious intentions it will already be too late.
I know now though, that HE was the one who removed so much from my mind already! My project... my failure... my disappearance... it was all HIS making! And he still wants to do things to me... terrible things... I'm his prey... and I have no one who has the strength to overpower this... this... THING! that's tearing me apart on such a mental level...
I don't want to die yet... I have so much I still want to do... so much I want to see... People... I want to hug... FUCK ME!!! I have no consistent train of thought anymore, all I see is my own unscarred face staring back at me, a snare of twisted, groping hands enveloping everything around me with the Sick FUCKING smile watching me triumphantly from the corner as everything closes in tightly around me.