It goes worse.
02 Jan 2022Vladimir Istomin
I've never had such bad strokes as this New Year's one. Usually that was a lot easier. Compensated with booze, movies, company. Not kinda mitigated, but...At least I've felt like shit for only one night. And didn't try to commit something awful.
That was a lot of stuff going through 3307. Problems with local gov at my home at Procyon 7B, father's death due to outbreak and this little dipsh*t who ordered to throw him out of emergency care unit with several other patients, just to show his superiors that they have nothing to worry about...
Capitalism at it's finest. I'd remember this one to the Red Corp. They have a debt to pay. Even while I'll try to abstain from collecting it forcefully, in the memory of my dad.
Anyways, that's only partially the case.
Remembering him, hearing "condolences" from the Red Corp CEO while visiting home for that occasion, seeing old places and listening to the one particular musical composition...
Holy Christ. I've almost done something irreversible.
At some point when I've suddenly got this song on my native Russian, going through my playlist, I haven't felt anything to be honest. But wanted to listen once more. And once more, and once more. Then to watch this black-white-and-red clip they've done for it.
I've remembered his death.
The state of the system when I was here as a teenager, constant in-fighting and total corruption, piracy, gun trading, smuggling, even slave trading.
Some things even have left the same here, just under one banner. And that's what has got me.
That, some other thoughts, similar place and this caramel liquor. I've got too much of it I guess. Got soft for mental influence.
If I wasn't on the call with Niles, the guy who has interwievd me to the EDF 5 years ago, I don't know what I'd probably do. Maybe I'd been cold and still at this moment already if not for him talking to me for like 1,5 hours straight, once he felt that I start talking strange.
The guy just saved my life, and my friends and family (what has left of it) from a lot of problems and disturbing questions after me expiring in this...
Trance? Zombified state? I don't know.
The only thing I know is that now, after sleeping in and talking to my close friends and other ex-mils, I'm really glad that this is over. And that I'm still here. I have people that will be sad if I die.
Even if I am not one of them.
Niles, thank you man. You've even skipped your 00:00 tick by local time for stupid me. You're a hero for me.
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My psychotherapist says I don't have to visit local doctor with that. I can start working this out at my new place of dislocation.
That even'd be better if I fasten wrapping things up here and go sooner than I expected. To avoid possible relapses.
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Song doesn't affect me anymore this way. Just it hasn't been before.
Looks like it has just landed on a good ground at that particular sleepless night. My ex-military friends (2 of them) have had similar... Problems. One at Catholic Christmas, 2nd one just a few hours before me going dark.
I believe I can share it with you, I've found the clip in the Galnet.
Just try to... Look after yourself out there, ok, CMDRs? And check if that song affects you too. Turn it off immediately if it does.
[READ THE SUBTITLES I'VE PROVIDED 1ST, THE SONG CONTAINS ONLY RUSSIAN ONES, YOU'LL MISS THE VIDEO COLOR PALLETTE THAT IS IMPORTANT TO IT'S PERCEPTION. THEN YOU'LL BE ABLE TO TAKE A PEEK QUICKLY WHILE KEEP WATCHING, AND REMIND WHAT'S BEING SANG ATM]
| Shoot me like a homeless dog. I’ll go in my love ‘till very end. Beat my face until it’s deformed - I am tired of being stranded. I only ask one thing for that: To turn off the blasting noise for a while. I find places that are precious to my heart, In the beautiful songs of nightingales. Sweet home - an abandoned railroad car in the field, I can't hold back my tears when I see pictures of birch trees. You are mine to the last ruble, You just can’t forbid, Loving own’s Homeland for free. A concrete Faberge egg has risen, Surrounded by a circle of garages. The bluebird of happiness constantly demands sacrifice, And waits for the slaughter of the goat. There is grief all over his face, His bed is laid among thorn bushes. For what, please tell me, I want to understand: Why does my empire hate me?.. Sweet home - an abandoned railroad car in the field, I can't hold back my tears when I see pictures of birch trees. You are mine to the last ruble, You just can’t forbid, Loving own’s Homeland for free. |
Fly safe.
Fly alive.