Creepy - Influencer

Episode Date: May 6, 2019

Big feelings...***Content warning: depression, suicidal thoughts***Credited to EmpyRealInvective***100% of profits from teespring.com/stores/new-creepy-logo will go to The American Foundation for Suicide Prevention.***Please consider supporting the podcast at Patreon.com/Creepypod ***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube:https://www.youtube.com/creepypod***Produced by Steve Blizin, Puzzle Audio***Title music by Alex Aldea***Artwork by Dakota Miller ***Intro/Outro Narration by Joe Stofko Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

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Please, if you need help, there are people to talk to. The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is 1-800-273-8255, and it's available 24 hours a day. Even if you're just thinking about calling, please do. Now, this is creepy. A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous chilling and disturbing creepy pastas and urban legends in the world. Whether these stories truly happened

or our simply fabrications is for you to decide. These stories may contain graphic depictions of violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised. Creepy Presents Influencer Written by MP Real Invective Yeah, I've had a bit to drink tonight. So what?

You would too if you were me. I'm dumping this onto the internet. I don't need to be. completely sober to do that, do I? All I need to do is make this semi-coherent and say what I need to say. Anyways, what does it matter? Given what I do, a portion of the people who read this will likely be intoxicated too. It doesn't matter if they haven't had anything to drink recently. If they're close enough to me, they'll feel drunk. That's the same. That's not. That's a lot of them. That's just the nature of my ability.

I can't change it. I can't stop it. I guess I should explain all that before going any further into all this. I've always had this ability that impacts my day-to-day life and the people who are close to me. You see, my emotional state affects those around me and influences them. If I'm feeling happy, the people around me are ecstatic. If I'm angry, everyone in my vicinity is furious.

I can't control it, and I can't choose how the people around me feel. It's all tied to my emotional state. It doesn't matter what they're thinking in that moment. If I'm feeling a certain way, they have to experience what I'm going through and responding kind. To sum it up, I lead the march, everyone else just follows behind me. I totally understand if you just rolled your eyes at listening to those last few sentences due to me sounding self-centered. Even if you think what I just said is egocentric, it's true.

I just am unlucky enough to have evidence to support my drunken ramblings. I don't want to be the center of this shit shell. But I don't have a choice in the matter. Also, I wouldn't be so quick to judge. Everyone's selfish. I know you probably just thought something along the lines of, God, what a self-important, arrogant asshole. I would never say something like that.

That's where you're wrong. You weren't that different from me, really. You just took what I said and compared it directly to yourself. You couldn't hear something without directly shifting it to yourself and giving your opinion none of the matter. You took something personal that I said and tried to make it about you. You subconsciously thought you were the center of the world. But unfortunately, you're not.

I am, and I'm so sorry for that. There wasn't a time where I didn't feel like I was influencing those close to me. It didn't matter how much I tried to hide it emotionally. Those feelings would infiltrate and alter the people. people around me. I could go to a funeral in a good mood and within a few minutes, the people around me would be joking and laughing. Of course, it wasn't a sudden shift.

It was almost always tied to some imperceptible change in their consciousness. They would go from mourning the loss of a father, husband, friend, to remembering a pleasant memory and reminiscing about it to smiling. It was never instantaneous. It was insidious and slow. They always thought it was their choice to think that way. I could leave minutes later and they'd still be fondly remembering the deceased and smiling. Once they were set on autopilot, they'd continue along that trajectory until something was noticeable enough to snap them out of their reverie.

It always feels like what I was doing to them in their emotional state was. was a product of their choices and well-being. They didn't know they were being manipulated by me in my emotional state. It wasn't. It was always dependent on me. While most would see this as a gift, being surrounded by people who felt the same way as you, I couldn't. I didn't feel like my younger brother, father, and mother were

behind me and genuinely felt the same way I did. In fact, I didn't feel like the people around me were bonded in any sense of camaraderie or like-mindedness. Instead, it felt like they were mindlessly following me and playing yes man to my every whim. Sometimes it feels like I'm trapped in a permanent echo chamber in my own design. It's difficult to adapt at first, but once you get used to that sentiment, life becomes tolerable. It's an inevitability you have to accept and adapt to. Unfortunately, it didn't stay that way. I could have ignored this all as an unavoidable fact of my life and lived happily. If it wasn't for

her, I could have been happy if it wasn't for Nina. Everything started to go downhill with Nina. We met senior year in high school and hit it off. She'd recently transferred to my high school. high school following her dad changing jobs and I randomly bumped into her one day. We headed off and we were dating within a few weeks. We complimented each other perfectly. I was aware of my ability at that point. I told myself that this was different. She was different. She was someone who could love me for being me. Our relationship was real. I told myself that I was truly happy with her. We broke up that summer.

Of course we weren't actually happy. We were a bad match. It didn't take a genius to see that. But I was blinded by love. That's not true. There was never any real sense of love in our relationship. She settled for me because I was something comfortable. I was someone she could cling to when she fell out of touch with her friends after the move.

Pretending to love each other gave us both an outlet for something we didn't know we were missing. We weren't capable of loving each other. We were unable to give the other what we couldn't give ourselves. I don't know what precipitated the breakup. All I remember was our argument. Vindictive and violent. I spiraled downwards after that. I said a lot of things I'm not proud of.

I did a lot of things I regret I went out Got drunk Generally made an ass of myself I got into arguments at home When my parents realized I'd broken into their liquor cabinet I heard people whispering behind my back When I dragged myself into school

Groggy and hungover A bad mouthed Nina Every chance I got to anyone that would listen I texted her some really Awful things before she blocked me I was angry. I set her as the cause of everything wrong in my life up to that point. Talking to my friends was difficult after all that he said, she said, and dirty laundry we aired about each other.

I couldn't trust other girls because Nina was so fake. It's all bullshit, of course, but I couldn't stop thinking like that. I wanted to blame anyone other than myself. I was so blinded by my anger that I didn't even realize what I had become. I was so lost in drinking, starting rumors and generally being a walking dumpster fire that I didn't even see what was happening to everyone around me. My mom went to live with her parents after a particularly nasty argument with their husband about how to deal with me.

She left while we were at school and never came back to pick up any of her stuff. my dad started working overtime at his job and staying out late. When he was home, he spent most of the time watching TV and pretending like everything was all right. I think it hit my brother hardest all. He locked himself up in his room and blasted the music to keep the rest of us at a distance. When we did see him, he was goggled from staring at the computer screen all day. He typically had to look like a fox that was about to chew off its foot to a foot to a escape from a trap. I think avoidance was the easiest and safest option for him. He could isolate

himself and build this wall between us and him and imagine that life was going to get better. We stayed like that from once before I went to college out of state. Looking back at it, I think it was the best choice for me. The distance gave me some time to be reflective and break the cycle. I realized what I was doing and I cut back on my drinking and built up. up a circle of close friends who supported me. I don't know if I was influencing them. All I know is that they help pull me out of a dark place. I even thought about going on a few dates, but that never did happen.

I think I was still angry in Nina and how everything ended. I managed to pass my first round of exams and went home during break. I wish I'd stayed away. I could have been so happy if I did. The house had changed so much in only four months. My mom was always the caretaker and cleaner. With her gone, dust began to accumulate on the cabinets and counters, and every corner of the house smelled musty.

The counters looked like a filing cabinet had vomited on them. There was a layer of paperwork, junk mail, and bills, yellowing on the dining room table that covered every inch of the water-stained wood. The first night home I spotted a cockroach screwing over a piece of moldering bread that someone had kicked under the counter rather than picking it up. The roach got a few feet before getting into a fight with another cockroach before both skittered off into the darkness. My brother's room was probably the worst out of everything. I almost dry heave the instant I walked in to greet him. Everything smelled like sour sweat.

Foul, weak old farts and rancid scenes. He blasted the area with X body spray to try and cover up the smell. That just ended up giving everything an overpowering acrid stench with a strong undercurrent of a sickening scent. His face was buried in an iPad and he barely looked up to talk to me. I could only handle a few minutes of one-word answers before the stench became so overpowering that I had to leave the room. I spent the first few days in winter break trying to tidy up the house, but nothing I did

seemed to make a dent in the overall mess. I'd sweep the floors only to find crumbs scattered over it the next day. I eventually stopped after I cleared and sorted all the paperwork off the dining room table, only to find my dad throwing a recently collected mail on it the next day to repeat the cycle. I decided that I wasn't going to waste my time on it if it was going to go to shit immediately after I left. I resigned myself to living with the mess for the next few weeks. I managed to live there for a few days before I saw how bad everything would become. It all started when I overheard my brother talking to someone on a voice chat.

It was late at night and I was sneaking out of the house to have a smoke. A habit I picked up in college. I had to tuck behind my ear and cheap plastic zipple later grasped in my hand. I was doing my best to keep quiet and not wake up my dad. I was walking by my brother's room when I heard a snippet of his conversation with. someone. They're all fucking cunts anyway. I stopped outside his room for a moment, but the chat had quieted down enough to make it all incomprehensible. I waited for a few seconds to see if I could hear him say anything else, but the conversation had hit a lull. I decided to mind my own business

and slipped outside to smoke. It wasn't very good. The dime I bought was mostly seeds and didn't really do much to take the edge off of things. As I was sneaking back to my room, I saw my brother's door was open and decided to take a quick peek. He had walked down the hall to go to the bathroom. He left the bathroom door open and I could see he was too preoccupied, likely pissing everywhere except a toilet bowl. He left his lapop on his bed and was facing the open door. My curiosity got the better of me and I looked at the screen.

The discord was called the Black Pill, and it was a pretty dead chat. There are only two people on the voice channel, a few in the room itself. I got a peek at his username. That was enough for me to get out of there before he came back. E underscore Roger. His username was E underscore Roger. I spent the rest of the night trying to make sense of everything on Google.

The more I learned, the worse it seemed. The pieces of puzzle slowly slid into it. place. What I overheard him saying, the Discord channel's name, and my brother's handle. The Black Pill Discord was a channel set up for in-cells. I don't want to explain who Elliot Roger was. Google it, an in-cell if you want to ruin your mood for the day. Suffice it to say, he's a garbage person and my brother seemingly idolized him. My brother needed help in a bad way.

I spent the next few days trying to figure out what to do. I couldn't just bumble into the topic without him knowing what had seen. Hey, the weather's been pretty nice lately. You think it's going to be sunny this weekend? How long have you hated women and idolized a campus shooter, by the way? I decided that my best course of action was the try-end, for lack of a better term. Socialize him and get him some real-life friends. I put my plan into effect that weekend by taking him to a party with a bunch of my old high school friends were having after their first semester of college.

I figured that introducing him into another social circle was my best option. I thought that I could distract him from his problems by getting him out of his room and away from those people who was chatting with online. It didn't take much convincing to get him to come with me to the party. I promised him we'd have a few drinks. I'd smoke him out. We'd hang out with some cool girls. Even though it was his first real party, he jumped at the opportunity to live a little.

It didn't go as I'd hoped. The night started out fine enough. We went to the party and hot boxed the room with some old friends. My brother didn't really talk to anyone, and I found myself hoping he'd chill out enough to strike up conversation. As we tried to relax, I noticed how he kept glancing over at a girl was short hair. So I decided to play matchmaker and get him to chat. I managed to pull them both in a conversation about some movie before I slipped into a conversation with someone else and left them to hang out.

After 30 minutes, I decided to go a little further and I stupidly organized the game of beer pong, pitting me and him against my friend and the girl my brother had been chatting with. I still don't know what happened next. It seemed like one minute we were playing beer pong and then we were having fun. Then the next I was draking my brother out of the house. We were losing the game and drinking more than we should have, but we were enjoying ourselves. It was while we were joking around at the girl my brother was interested in and got a text.

My brother tried to bounce a shot, and she said it wasn't fair to do that while she was distracted texting her boyfriend. Next thing I know, he's throwing a half-full silo cup at her, and he's venting vitriol at her. It was like some switch had been flipped. And the quiet kid I knew his train. transformed into this raven lunatic. I can't remember all the things he said due to how sudden his outburst was.

But I do remember him calling her a bitch before shouting, Nothing but a fucking Becky Cocktees! As I pulled him out of the party before we got our asses kicked. As I pulled him out of the house, I remember he actually tried spitting on her as we passed to go out the front door. We called an Uber and rode to a nearby party. in silence. He was fuming, and I was texting my friends to try and do damage control and minimize the situation. Luckily, things calmed down after we left, and most people took that as a sign to call it

a night. I kept glancing in my brother in between messages to see if I could figure out what the hell happened. The few times we did make eye contact, my brother was practically shaking with rage. We got dropped off at a nearby park and walked home with the events of the past hour, over us like a storm. Just before we snuck back into the house, he tried to explain why he lost it. That's our girls who string us along deserve to be treated.

She was stringing me along the whole night. They can't get away with doing that kind of stuffed in nice guys. She was just like mom, sneaking around until things got tough and then bailing on us. Can you really act like they don't deserve to be treated like that after what happened with you and Nina? That's all he said. He didn't apologize or try to explain himself further. Instead, he quarantined himself in his room. I waited for him to come out so he could try to hash it out,

maybe even literally, but he rarely has. He doesn't come down for meals and he ducks into the bathroom when he's certain I'm not around. I thought he'd snap out of it after a few days. But a week has passed since then, and he's showing no signs of calming down. He's angry at me, that much I can tell. He's bearing himself deeper into the toxic place as some sort of escapism.

Against my better judgment, I managed to track down an invite into the black pill discord and lurked there under a pseudonym. Eventually one of the other people noticed I wasn't talking and they booted me from chat. But I had enough time to read through the chat logs and learn about the type of person my brother had become. he's so angry and violent. He brings up Isla Vista and Luby almost daily. He jokes about how he wants to beat their score. To be perfectly honest,

I'm simultaneously terrified for him and of him. I'm petrified he's going to hurt himself. Or even worse, hurt a lot of people around him. I've been racking my brain trying to think of ways to fix all this. but there's no easy solution. People don't change easily. You can't just flip a switch and transform someone's identity. Your personality isn't static.

You can't change who you are at the drop of a hat. Their habits become ingrained into their personality and altering. It requires a massive amount of time and something else I'm afraid I don't have. My brother's been twisted by my thoughts. My anger at the way my relationship with Nina ended festered away in my brain and became something horrible. I transformed her into this monster who was the blame for all of our shortcomings. But that's not true. We were the cause of our own unhappiness.

I can say that any way I want. But unfortunately, there will always be a small part inside of me which still blames her for everything. that happened. There's this terrible sigh to me that feels the same way my brother does. Try as much as I want. I can't change how I feel. Even when I see what it's doing to those around me, I can't even bring myself to say his name. I keep trying to pretend that I'm doing this because I don't think he's a danger to himself or other people, that I don't want to get the authorities involved. But I know that's not true. I saw the things he said and heard how he talked about them.

There was almost this sense of reverence when he talked about the spree shootings. I don't know if he'll ever try to carry out those horrible things he said. I don't know. He could be a ticking time bomb for all I know that's going to explode any day now and shred all those around him to shit. Or he could spend the rest of his life in that room. isolated from the world with only the glow of a computer screen to keep them company. The truth is neither of those outcomes are great ones.

And as I say all this, something's dawned on me. If I was able to do that to my brother after only a few weeks of self-loathing and misplaced anger, what does that mean for the other people around me? How many people have I influenced for the worse? How many times have I made someone's life? life drastically worse just by knowing them. Did my mental state drive my mother away? Did I make life so unbearable for her with my malignant distrust and misplaced anger that

she had no option except to flee the family she once loved? Did I turn my dad and brother against her like some sort of scapegoat for something she had no control over her? Are my friends, even my friends? Or are they just reflections of myself? desperate for some form of connection even if it's an empty and hollow one. Do they even listen to what I'm telling them? Are they just being blindly driven by my innate desire not to be alone

or will to put up a front? The more I think about it, the worse it gets. How many people have I influenced over the years and what impact have I had on them? How many times have I pulled someone down in a depression and blind anger? Then there's the most terrible thought of all. Did I do that to my ex-girlfriend? Did I corrupt someone close to me because I was unable to be an actual decent human being?

Did I twist her mental state to reflect my own and some futile attempt to find someone who loves me when I couldn't love who I was? Was she happy before she left me? Is she happy now? Or is she like me? Poison. There is no other word for it. it. I can try to change who I am. But unless my emotional state is genuine, it won't influence anything. My sentiments have to be real to impact the people around me. Look at what I did to my brother.

I thought I'd moved on for my bad relationship, but a small part of me refused to let go. And that small part of me was enough to ruin someone's life. I feel like there's nothing left of me, but a splintered skeleton and a wooden heart. I'm going to keep pulling people down because I can't bring myself to their level, make myself happy. I guess that's why I'm drunk. I'm trying to make sense of all this. I'm trying to convince myself of what I need to do. Change who I am. It will always be this small part of me that's petty, mean-spirited, and addictive. And as long as that core exists, anything I do will change anything. I'll continue to weigh down the people who are close to me. I will bring ruin to them just by existing.

Oh God, I just want to die. I'm going to keep hurting people. I just want to die. I'm going to keep pulling people down with me. I want to die, but I can't do it. I'm a coward. The thought of dragging a razor across my wrists or sticking a gun in my mouth scares the shit out of me. I can't bring myself to do that. I don't want to hurt anyone else, but I know that I will just by the sheer fact that I'm alive and influencing other people. I can't be positive all the time and I can't pretend to be happy either.

Something in me feels like it's broken and I can't help but break the people around me. I can't fix myself and I can't save them. I want to die, but I'm too afraid to face that. I am a chicken who's unable to end it, even though I know I'm going to hurt a lot of people just by existing and being me. I'm a coward. But the real question is, are they? I'm so sorry, I want to die. For more information, including pictures and videos of the stories told on this podcast,

Or to suggest stories for future episodes, please visit us. At Creepypod on Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook. Or email us. All stories told on this podcast can be found at creepypasta wiki.com. And are protected by a Creative Commons license. Some rights reserved unless otherwise stated.