That's the best way to describe my state of mind these days.
I guess "confused" fits too, but then again, I can't really think back to any day since all this shit started when that word wasn't applicable.
Basically, almost all of the past month was bullshit.
The gladiator fight, Lars and Mickey, Bruce, The purebloods, all of it was part of an artificial construct designed to, well- neuter me.
Not literally of course, but to make me harmless to society, trapped in a dream world where I am the king, and so complacent that I no longer felt the need to change. The worst part is, Alyssa was in on it. You see, before I killed Williamson, Alyssa was helping him to hunt werewolves. He'd been doing it for years, and the way it worked was, if you can't kill a werewolf straight out, you put them in cages and enter them into this program, run by- well, I thought his name was Bruce, but really, it was something else. Or maybe it was Bruce, I dunno. All I can tell you is his dogs aren't actually movie stars and sex kittens, but I don't really want to talk about that. That whole thing still gives me the willies.
When I woke up the next day after Alyssa got me out of the snow, she told me everything.
I mean, God knows how I could ever trust her, or anybody, really again, but she laid it out, and I guess it's true. Or, at least, more true than the world I had been living in since Christmas.
Incidentally, if you read back in the blog, I had a New Year's resolution not to kill anybody this year. Looks like I made it all the way until late January. Which honestly, is better than I did with the quitting smoking last year.
Basically, Bruce was this guy who knew how to control people's minds, or more specifically, werewolves' minds. He worked with Williamson for a while, and Williamson cut him off when he started to suspect that it was more merciful to simply kill werewolves than it was to fuck with their heads the way this guy did. So they broke off their relationship. Unfortunately, when I killed Williamson, and got entangled with Alyssa, she said she didn't have the heart to kill me, so she called this guy, and hooked him up with Jeff. She said she wanted to try it with Jeff first, and if that worked out OK, she'd hand me over to him, seeing as having the both of us living in cages didn't seem to be a great long term solution.
The problem was, Jeff took to it too well, and over the course of his mind control, he began to be obsessed with me. If he was to be the king of the werewolves, where was I? What was I doing? He began to revolt from the control, and began seeking me out, which is why I smelled him all over town, and why he came by the video store. The only way that Bruce could keep Jeff in the fold was to include me in the storyline somehow, create the gladiator fight concept, which would draw in Jeff. Bruce must have picked up on the fact that the only thing that would draw my interest was Alyssa.
So he conspired with her to "disappear" and have me show up in Mcarren park on the eve of the transformation, when my mind would be at it's most vulnerable for control.
The whole scene in Mcarren Park was kind of a 50-50 blend of reality and mind control, and there were signs, like him controlling the policemen with the Jedi mind trick, and getting me into the van to Jersey. Those weren't cops by the way. They weren't even real.
Apparently, I was just standing in kind of a trance, only taking in the bits and pieces of reality that he allowed me- Alyssa, the van, my clothes, Jeff.
I know, it's weird.
Anyway, he had Alyssa move certain familiar elements of my life into the basement to link to me, and that I could use as anchors to reality. Some of that was my computer, which had been vitally important to me in terms of sorting out what's been going on in my life, and he let me watch the Patriots and television and movies to keep me somewhat sedated, and the rest of it was easy for him. The blog helped me break it too, a little- he knew that I was typing, but he didn't know what it was, and didn't care. He was more concerned that I was staying put and not hurting anyone, and he couldn't have been happier to have me sitting there typing away. And the visions he created were so easy for me to believe. I mean, you believe what you want to believe and who wouldn't want to accept that they are a champion, they are having sex with porn stars, that they are being bred for something bigger, and that they are truly learning control?
I still kinda believe that there are werewolves in Corporate America, though. That would explain a lot.
The problems started when he killed Jeff.
The fantasy had begun to grow too large for Bruce to control both of us, so when he staged our werewolf fight, he had both Jeff and Lars, who were impediments to my relaxing and accepting the control wipe each other out. And that's when Alyssa decided she'd had enough.
According to her, she tried to free me, and shake me out of this, and Bruce reacted badly. He drugged her, tied her up, and proceeded to let my fantasy world spin out of control, even to the point of adding sex-nymphs (yes, they were dogs) into the mix.
What saved me was the iPod.
She convinced him to let me listen to music, as it would soothe me further, and gave me the iPod. He had no idea that Dan was in it. As it turns out, there was no place in the fantasy he had created for me for a ghost in an iPod, I mean, the whole thing is pretty goddamn unbelieveable, so Dan simply manifested himself in one of the characters that were already there.
So basically, he became Mickey.
Which is why Mickey disappeared for a while. Dan didn't know where he was, and he couldn't talk to me traditionally, so his spirt inhabited Mickey, at least in my mind, and it took him a while to learn how to reach me.
When I became agitated about Mickey, it disturbed my fantasies, and Bruce sensed he was losing control, so he set it up that I would smell him around my things, and kill him myself. Apparently, it's easier to eliminate fantasy characters from someone's mind when they eliminate them themselves, and so Mickey became "the victim."
All thoughout this, the supposed goal was to get me to control myself, to get to a point where I wouldn't have to change, and when that was mastered, to I guess, cure me. And the fucked up thing is, it worked early. Towards the end of the fantasy, I had learned to control my changes, and knew that my mind was stronger than anything else. Unfortunately, it was that very control that allowed me to spare Mickey, put the concept of Dan back in my head, and return me to thoughts of Alyssa. As soon as I had control over my changes, I also had control over my mind, or at least partial control, and when the vision broke down, there was so much rage, that the change took over again, and I killed Bruce.
I don't feel bad about that by the way. I mean- sure, maybe I was a bad doggy, but that dude was dealing out some seriously evil clockwork orange shit, and he deserved what he got. I mean, shit, he kidnapped Alyssa, and deep down, I feel that if I had allowed myself to kill Mickey, eliminating Dan from my subconcious, she would have been next, in one way or another.
I was going down a bad path with that guy, and I can't imagine that it would have ended well.
You know, as if the way it did turn out was so goddamn peachy.
Anyway, when we got back to Brooklyn, Alyssa hooked me up with the cage so I could safely transform, I called the video store so I could at least support myself, and she left. She said she was going to Europe to do research on how to help me, but she might just be gone. And it might be for the best. I mean, I've had trust issues with women before but never to the point where I tell a woman that I love her and in exchange she throws me in a mental prison where despite what I think is going on, I'm actually living in a basement in New Jersey commiting unnatural acts with trio of Rottweilers.
And I know, it got out of her control, but damn- that's a step above, oh I don't know- fucking one of my friends and lying about it, you know?
So she's gone, and I guess it was the only thing to do.
The other thing that pisses me off is that the only time I was actually able to control my transformations it was in a fantasy world. The next night, back in the cage in Brooklyn, I changed again, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. I tried to think about the swimming pool, how I didn't need change in my life, and all the rest of it, but when everything you've known for a month of your life is a complete and total lie, it's tough to get that confidence back up.
So now- I'm just lonely.
And it's cold as balls outside.
I hate January.