Power solves many problems,
We all think that power provides a solution,
But power itself can ask more questions,
Questions that power can't answer.
I am Tristan Ultraviolet. The boy who tries to wear a fancy suit to cover up my insecurities about my looks. The boy who gets nervous at any little thing he doesn't know, the one with mental problems, the one who's been bullied, the one with social anxiety, the one with no artistic skill. I'm a loser kid; the king of nothing, not even myself.
But I don't have to be.
I am Tony Eriks, the person who can make a deal with anybody and commands the attention of any listener. I am Tempest Valentine, the person who can sweet talk and flirt anyone into anything. I am Wainwright Blair, the person who stays calm and keeps track of everything, no matter what. I am Allyson Myra, the person who can sweep people off of their feet with their looks alone, I am Sabrina Willow, the artist extraordinaire with a talent to make people what they want. I am Vivian Divante, the guitar player with a game sense unlike anything else.
I am all of these people as well.
But the world forgets me. It leaves "Tristan Ultraviolet" behind, lost and forgotten, taking with it Tony, Tempest, Wainwright, Allyson, Sabrina, and Vivian. It takes them, but not me. People don't see me in them; they see someone else.
So I become them, the king and commander of everything I want. The king of the underground.
Why be a loser stuck in a depressive spiral where I feel nothing when I can be all of these people and feel everything? Especially when all I have to do is "switch"? Those are the questions I have the answer for; being the king of the underground.
Sex, money, lies, and treachery, as much as the loser facade puts up the morally upstanding, innocent banner, none of these are new concepts to me, and I love it. I outrun all of the trauma, the self-hatred, the stress, the insecurities; all of the bad, so that I can revel in the feeling, the love, the pleasure, the wealth, the success, the power.
Trauma is my fuel, and reality is subjective. I need to keep running, keep feeling, keep living in the lucid moment so that the bad never catches up. As I run, the line that draws between fact and fiction grows blurry. The world around me becomes the product and result of my story, and I am not a reliable narrator. After a certain point, I can no longer tell when I'm telling the truth and when I'm lying. The lies blend into the truth, and I believe them all the same. I lose the sense of where I am and where I am going in this world. The nights become a mystery to me; I submit to the feeling in the evening. And I become a demon for the weekend, free of anything outside of my story. When nothing ties me to this world, I can live again. I don't have to be Tristan Ultraviolet.
But why settle for just that? When I can use all of the daylight to continue the feeling? Those are the questions I have the answer for; being the king of the underground.
I need to pick up the pace. I need to feel more, see more, touch more, do more, switch more. The story needs to grow, it needs a new headline, a new pitch, a new ending, a new thing to feel. It needs to let me run faster. And as I grow faster, I am able to shed the aspects of Tristan that hold me back and keep me from going faster. The depression, the nervousness, the anxiety, the worry, the compassion, the desire to be normal, the care for others.
Some people see the person beneath, they see the condition that started all of this, and those people call me dangerous. Maybe they're right, maybe they have a reason, maybe they have a point. But despite all of the names and all of the warnings, people keep getting too close, and that is what is truly dangerous. They learn what I can really be, what I can really do. They become part of the story, they enter the gray, and they become mine, whether they know it or not. Some people know to back away, they know to plant red flags and display the correct disdain for me.
People love me, people hate me, people praise me, people fear me. One minute, I'm the god of everything, the next, I'm the devil that will destroy everything. I can be someone's gleaming light; the reason they want to live. I can be someone's boogeyman; the promise of their downfall, watching their every move, terrifying them with my voice alone; a real bad person in a real good place.
Why does this seemingly come so naturally to me? Why can I be so good but so bad? These are the questions I want to find the answers for; being the king of the underground.
A voice in my head calls to me, "You can run, Tristan, you can run. The truth is going to come out someday, and it's gonna wipe that smile right off of your face." It's the only "person" in my story who remembers my name, and it terrifies me.
I know his name all too well.
I want people to see me, but I want to be forgotten.
The trauma keeps piling up, the story needs to keep growing. The stress keeps building, the story needs to keep expanding, but the bad eventually overtook the good. My story fell apart for a brief moment and I could finally see my real reflection in the mirror. I saw who I was. I realized:
I want to help people, yet I keep hurting people.
I want to put others before myself, but I keep using people.
I want to give to people, I want to be selfless, but I keep taking from people.
I want to be the good in the world, but I want to be evil.
Maybe the world made me this way.
Sex, money, lies, and treachery. As much as I want to get away from them and live an innocent life, the life that I had before I started running; before the names and trauma. None of these are new concepts to me, and I hate it.
"You can run, Tristan, you can run."
What am I supposed to do when the bad catches up with me for good?
"Then you'll see why I'm here."
My day will come, but when?
Those are the questions I have to find the answer for; being the king of the underground.