// Do I really have too?
\\You don't HAVE to do anything, Juana. You simply choose to do things based off your judgment. Do you trust me?
//Your a computer program designed to provide corrective psych-anal while I'm cooped up in this mother fucking piece of shit synthetic sack of crap! Of *course* I trust you.
\\Juana, please remain calm.
//Right. Fine. Whatever.
\\Now, do you trust me?
\\Then you would trust my judgment. Trust me when I say that I believe that hearing that you are not alone would be immensely helpful.
// Fine. What the fuck ever.
Distribution network, Crow-Psi-Alpha
Header: Asyncs Anon
Text Body: Hello everyone. I'm Juana Mendez. I'll just assume you all said 'hi Juana' and move right on. I was infected four years ago, about around when I was 'born'. Yeah, a real mind fuck, being told that the ten years growing up, four years at school, your parents, your teachers...all fake. And that was before the kids started going psycho, before people started dying left and right. And then I get out, into the real world...and I carried the Hangman out with me.
Right...you all know what the Hangman is, though...I bet that you've got something, someone, different.
The Hangman is my...curse, my *infection*. The Watts-McLeod strain of the Exurgance Virus, to use the long term. Rewrote my brain and now I can kill people with my mind. Fan fucking tastic.
But, Juana, normals would say: You have amazing, godlike powers! You can touch the heart of the cosmos.
No. No I don't. What I have is...the Hangman. Narrow hips, bony fingers, always on my back, whispering into my ear. He points out people that are about to kill me, he convinces people I'm beautiful, or tells them to go to sleep, or learns their secrets. But every time, the noose tightens around my neck.
The noose isn't real, my oh-so-pedantic shrink keeps telling me. But I can feel it. Every. Single. Time.
If I don't ask him for help for a while, the noose loosens.
But it's never going away.
// There. Done. I feel like a fucking idiot.
\\ Don't worry. Conceptualizing your uniqueness has given your mind a concrete way of-
// Spare me the psycho-shit. I'm going to hit up some local narcoalgorithms and forget everything...there'd better be someone else posting on this darkcast by the time I recover, or else I'll rip you out of my cranium with the best fucking scorcher program I can find...