What did I do? Concluded

Things were pretty much as normal as they get for me until after I had graduated high school and I randomly ran into a girl I used to have the hots for. (For what it’s worth, she doubled in weight and proved to be screwier than I am. Hence the “used to” part. Shallow, maybe, but… eh.)

We got to talking, and the conversation meandered to something along the lines of how I either confused or flat out scared her now too. “You used to scare ME. What the hell did I do to a crazy punk rock girl like you?!” I started thinking, until she handed me a folded up note that she still kept with her. Turns out, it was a rambling suicide note, complete with illustrations, that I had passed her back in high school. The note was in my handwriting, but I cannot stress this enough, to this day I have no memory of ever writing or drawing anything on that damn piece of paper.

Rather stunned at the time, I stammered an apology, and did my best to save face. Needless to say I’m pretty sure that girl still thinks I’m a certified nutcase, but that’s the least of my worries. I now had two circumstances of doing some, well, scary stuff, and I cannot remember doing either of them. (There’s actually a third thing during the same time period that I know of that I have no memory of doing, but it’s significantly less morbid. A teacher was passing back assignments one morning, and I panicked because I didn’t remember the assignment, let alone doing it. Then he handed me back what I had turned in, a complete drawing, in my style, of my cat with an accompanying haiku. And nope, no memory of doing that, either. And, uh, yeah, back in the day I used to fancy myself as someone who could draw. Wanted to do it professionally an’ everything too. Now you know, I guess. That’s another story for another time though.)

Thinking back about it, I’ve tried to piece together the timeline to figure out what was going on.

1) Satanist phase begins
2) Offered up my soul to demons while extremely distraught
3) I said something to the religious girl
4) I wrote a rambling suicide note.
5) Stepped in a church for the first time in years.
6) Confronted with evidence of things done between Steps 2 and 5 that I cannot remember.

So. Yeah. You may have a few theories of your own as to what happened. And I have mine. To be perfectly honest, I think I actually got myself possessed.

I’m serious.

You can stop laughing.

Or I’ll just wait here.

Anyway. I fully admit I’ve done some outlandish things in my life. I’ve pretended to cast really-real-world spells in front of a crowd. I’ve spread rumors that I was going to sacrifice classmates. I’ve tried to commit suicide multiple times. I’ve gone into a mental ward of my own free will, twice. I cosplay. And I can vividly remember all of it.

But when it comes down to whatever the hell I said to that religious girl, to this day I am at a complete loss. I don’t even remember approaching her the night I’m told I scared her shitless, let alone ever saying anything to her.

And you know when you can at least think of your frame of mind or the experience of creating something? Yeah, none of that for that damned suicide note.

Call it what you will. But at this point I’m pretty much convinced I got myself possessed by… something. And whatever that something was took control during that conversation and the creation of that note. (And I realize that having no memory of drawing the cat sort of throws off the dark theme of the other two occasions, but I wouldn’t have brought any of this up to begin with if it made sense.) And remember what I said about feeling a little funny right after walking into a church for the first time in years? I think that’s when I, well, when I induced a self exorcism. Entering that holy ground got rid of whatever hitched a ride with me.

Maybe it’s just wishful thinking on my part. But it’s equal parts frightening and fascinating to me that this happened. Losing control when you’re, say, drunk has the potential to be sort of fun. Suddenly losing control and having no idea what you did for a few minutes one night when you’re completely sober is, well, scary. And I only know about these three events because they were brought to my attention after the fact. For all I know there could be other things I did during this period of time that I have no memory of. And that’s like… a plot point out of some weird mystery based video game.

On the other hand, if I did manage to “invoke” something that night, even on a small scale, the possibilities are endless. So it’s not throwing a fireball. Big deal. Seriously, even if minor “parlor tricks” are the only kind of “magic” possible, that’s still something. And if there is even the slightest possibility that I have done something legitimately mystical, exploring that further is something that I would actually consider life worth living for. Never mind how amused I’d be if something out there actually has a claim on my soul due to whatever I did all those years ago. (So I have a weird fascination with demons and the concept of Hell too. What harm could that possibly do?)

Are there other explanations for what happened? Probably. Are any of them more viable than my possession theory? Did I somehow manage, accidentally or intentionally, to block so many events from my memory on my own? Did my time in the mental ward have something to do with it? I haven’t had any mental block episodes since, so I really don’t know. Granted I haven’t tried any invocations since either, so maybe I should see if I can do it again?



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