That Damn Recording
Chapter 1: Where Did It Go?
UPDATE: I'm updating this story for some grammatical errors and some really bad lines that I always wanted to omitt, but never got around to it. Not much of a change, though.
AN: Seriously, there's this show called Gravity Falls with amazing characters that I want to explore. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!
Oh, and if you got a notification about this story because you've followed me as an author, check out my profile page for some very important content updates.
11pm; barely a sound was coming from the Mystery Shack. Stan was asleep on his couch, Mabel was sleeping over Candy's house, and Dipper sat on his bed, staring at the full moon through his attic window, surrounded by a thick veil of clouds. Deep in thought, he realized that it would be easier to sleep if he spoke his mind. He pulled out a dusty tape recorder and a blank cassette tape that he found while digging around in the attic. Clicking the tape in place, he pressed record and tested the ancient device. Satisfied that it was still functioning properly, he lied on his back and spoke.
Sigh…I feel out of focus, like something is keeping me from reaching my full potential. I feel this weight pressing down on my body every day, and I'm not exactly sure what the cause is. I'm a pretty rational guy, so I should know why I'm so…uncomfortable. I mean, I've battled an army of gnomes, ran a gauntlet of amber-frozen dinosaurs, and even conquered the multi-bear: Shouldn't I be able to understand my own state of mind? The things I've seen over past few weeks have bent the laws of reality, so perhaps these impossibilities are the reasons behind my malcontent.
It sucks, not being able to find the answers. When faced with a problem, I go through the options, list said options into a set order, prepare for any contingencies, and eventually reach a solution. Of course, this process has to be modified when dealing with Gobblewonkers and pterodactyls and everything else Gravity Falls has to offer. However, more often than not, my rational method of observation and application works! So why does it not work when dealing with my feelings?
I can't stand that word, "Feelings". They're complicated things with very little grounding in the physical world. But maybe that's why I feel this unnamed pressure on my mind, because I don't accept that I, like any other person, am susceptible to the negative effects of emotion. Is it arrogant to think that I should not be emotionally driven like others are? Maybe…maybe.
Well, take Mabel for instance. In our siblinghood, she is by far the more emotional of the two of us. I love my twin sister in every way, but she has a tendency to get carried away with her unstable feelings. Maybe it's because she's a girl and because I'm a guy that we are controlled by emotion and rational thought, respectively. Come to think of it, that's definitely the reason we have different mindsets, but I think she would more easily find an answer to my problem. Why do I feel so trapped?
Hell, I don't even know what's trapping me! Or what I'm feeling! Angst? Worry? Regret?
I'll just keep repeating words until the right one comes up. What do I worry about? Well, not much I guess, excluding the fact that Gravity Falls could easily be annihilated in a mere moment by any supernatural or extraterrestrial entity. What do I regret? I haven't done enough to regret anything really-
Wait! That's it! That's what I'm feeling: Regret for what I haven't done! Wow, I'm one step closer to figuring it out, this emotion thing that's holding me back…Regret for what I haven't done- Is that a thing? It should be a thing, with its own word and everything. A word like…uh…I don't really know. I guess the word "Regret" fits fine.
Sigh…Ok Dipper, don't let this go, you have to explore this. You can't keep pushing this away, so let's build on it. I'm twelve years and 303 days old. Yes, I keep track of the days. The reason being that I can't be taken seriously if I'm just a little twelve year old. In those almost-thirteen years, what have I truly accomplished? What have I done to help friends, to help family, the world? And what about helping myself? What have I done that has changed me as a person? Before I came to Gravity Falls, I was just a normal school kid: I studied, read books, I was curious about the world around me, I was never scolded, I had two or three friends, I was sometimes ignored, picked last in gym class, made fun of…called names…picked on… humiliated…beat up…robbed...bruised…
…Sigh…There it is again. The weight of my being. Feels different than my regret, more like self-pity. That's a whole different issue, but it kind of ties into what I'm talking about.
On the outside, I wasn't thrilled by the decision my parents made, sending Mabel and I to live with Grunkle Stan. On the inside, however, I was absolutely relieved. At home, I had nothing to look forward to, but here in Oregon? The whole world is open. In twelve years, I really have done nothing of consequence or meaning. But when I first found that journal, I unlocked the secrets of this mysterious town. I was ready to grow into a new Dipper: one who has purpose, drive, and unlimited potential! But what did I get? The same old Dipper who also has a dusty book of knowledge. What can I accomplish with that?
I felt true purpose, what I have always been searching for, two days ago. I still can't believe that it's only been two days since Gideon was arrested, two days since I took down a giant robot with my fists. Gideon's robot captured Mabel and began to leave with her, the little psychic taunting me all throughout. I was on a cliff above the robot, poised with the opportunity to jump for it, to save her. I was about to jump before a wave of self-doubt attacked me, a wave that stemmed from my small stature, my experience with bullies, and the looming fact that I couldn't stop a giant robot with my only useful quality: my mind. It almost took me, that self-pity. I turned and surrendered to my imperfections before something hit me: something powerful and unwavering.
Perhaps it was bravery blended with stupidity, or a combination of selflessness and fear, I really don't know. I ran for the edge of the cliff and jumped. I landed inside the cockpit and started pummeling Gideon. I was lost in my rage, all rational thought was gone: I just needed to keep my fists flying. I didn't see who I was punching, or realize why I was punching, or know for how long I was punching: I only saw and felt rage. For the first time, I knew true purpose, and now I'm terrified.
I…I don't know who that was, the Dipper punching Gideon. My mind, my rational thought process was gone in a flash. I have always looked for a purpose, something to abate this regret and self-pity that has defined my character for my entire life, but this? That day I let out all of the anger, the fear, the passion that was buried beneath the surface, and now I am absolutely terrified. I don't even know who I am, and I can't bare this..this knowing of what I am on the inside.
Where did it go- My mind, my thought process? I know it's still there, still me, but now I know that in an instant I can become someone else. I have the ability to comprehend, to think! My mind is me, what I am; and to think that I can erase my essence in a heartbeat is horrifying. Forget this damn regret, this self-doubt; both really don't matter. Others are far more deserving of the ability to question themselves than I am.
…I can't think like this. I'll lose what I am to this kind of thinking. I'll work through this with a calm mind; I'll beat whatever is inside me. My friends and family, what would they think if I just gave up like that? I won't think about that, I can't. I mean…phh...what would Mabel do without me? Or Grunkle Stan? Or Soos? Or Wendy?…Wendy…
Dipper stared at the ceiling for a while longer before stopping the recording. With the device in hand, he stood and made his way to Wendy's hangout on the roof. The moonlight, barely able to reach through the thick clouds, shined upon a particular part of the forest. Staring deep into that barely lit area, he leaned his arm back and launched the recorder as far as he could. He was surprised when it made good distance, and with that he returned to bed. He tossed and turned in slumber, sweating through his thin sheets. Only he and his recording, knew what his mind was going through. That is, of course, until someone found the recorder while strolling through the woods.
Live and Love,
JR (Taspiron)
