*Names have been changed to protect the innocent….*

A taste of my short foray into another blogging medium…

On a whim, I tumbled through the randomized tRumblr feeds. And was suddenly thankful that I had limited the types of tRumblr posts that appear on my home page.


Where to begin?

To imagine this properly, you will have to have seen the original ‘Hell Raiser’ movie, or at least read the book. But I will attempt to be as descriptive as my memory serves me…

In the movie, ‘Hell Raiser’, there’s a scene where the main characters are trying to make their way out of hell… there are random hallways and entrances into and out of rooms and scenarios… with people of varying degrees of suffering and/or bondage situations.

There are weapons, torture devices, and blood… it is all like one of those very bad dreams that seems inescapable and will never end. Even when waking from dreams of this nature, there is always the sense of somehow still being there.


How could cute pictures of small animals and memes or gifs of movie and television show scenes seem tortuous and painful to behold? How could such harmless sideshows invoke in my psyche a remembered scene, and thus the sense, of hell?

In ‘Hell Raiser’, the young woman turns a corner and is suddenly shocked to see her father in one of the scenarios. She is compelled to help and rushes towards him, but is stopped by the other person with her… was it Pinhead? I don’t recall. She calls to her father, pleading with him to come with her, to escape, but he does not respond. In agony, she watches as her beloved father replays his ordeal, over and over.

Just like one of those gifs on tumblr.


Why do I feel pity for other people that post things like that online?

The person with the young woman in the scene from ‘Hell Raiser’ says to her as they direct her away from the scene, “You can’t help him, he is in his own hell now…”

That solemnly, yet maliciously, spoken phrase, in the book and in the movie, messed me up for years.

Traumatized, I was forced to come to terms with the reality that we make our own suffering… and without self-awareness are doomed to suffer the consequences of our actions, and sometimes even our inactions.

Perhaps the sight of randomized feeds from tumblr is disturbing because I see similar things in those posts (to mine)? No. Surely not.

If we were in hell, would we know?

Either way, misery seems to gravitate to desire similar company.

And we suffer alone, together, and in the same venue.