If I Go Down, We All Go Down

“I sacrifice myself every day. No one seems to notice or care that I am doing this because I have to do this. Cutting a little piece of myself little by little every day. Years of my life not lived yet slowly being given away. I’ve been told you can lose up to seven years off your life if you don’t sleep eight hours a day. What if you only sleep four hours, do some shit for hour after hour, sleep four more hours, and then do some more meaningless shit? How much of my life am I losing then? We all sacrifice ourselves in some way. So my sacrifice seems as meaning less as everyone else’s. All of us have to do whatever it is that we have to do for whatever reason we have to do it.

Even when we know that it is for nothing. I don’t have to do what it is that I have to do. I could go back to school and do something with my life. We all could. The world needs more lawyers, doctors, and assholes with degrees that can tell everyone else what to do. It is a fallacy to believe that we don’t need a society of people to tell everyone what to do. Could you imagine a store with only managers working there? It would be a magical place where everything gets done and no one bitches that they have more than somebody else to do. Best of all no one would have to answer to anyone above them. We could call it socialism and we all know how that would work out.

Someone from another store would say something about how our store was different from their store. At first they would pretend that it was okay and then once they saw that it was working out for us they would want to join. So we’d let them, willingly let them infect our store with their old ideas, and then we could watch it all burn down from the sidelines. No one likes new idea and no one on the planet likes ideas that are considered fair. They however love ideas that look great on paper. The paper full of ideas that if we were all robots and did this, this, and this at this speed and this amount of time. Then yes we could all be done at this mathematically chosen time. It is a science the human body. We can in some way turn into to machines for eight hours and then be done with whatever it is that we are supposed to be done with.

It was proven during the battery of test performed by the Nazis during World War Two. They found that if you write it on paper and show it to the worker then yes it can be done. As we all know that this can’t happen, didn’t happen, and won’t happen. So we move to the next logical step in this evolutionary exchange of ideas, robots. Literal robots, no more flesh and bone, but harden plastic and wires. Only one major flaw in this plan. What do we do with all the people who use to work the jobs that the robots will take? An army of robot workers was an amazing fantasy fifty, maybe a hundred years ago, but there are too many of us now. There are too many people on this planet to replace any of them with robots. No one’s really going to stop fucking to only be replaced by a robot in the end, but sadly this idea looks fucking fantastic on paper.

We fucking love paper and we hate you. You are unreliable with your feelings and concerns. Not to mention we need cheap and cheaper. That is why what took four people twenty years ago only takes one now. We call it progression, but let’s be serious why pay four when we can force one to do it for less. Don’t believe? Well there’s the door? Good luck feeding your wife and child while you look for a new job you welfarerian piece of shit.  You disability sucking leech. Never mind that we pushed you until you broken. Never mind the fact that we jokingly held it over your head that you won’t find a better job and that you need these hours, so go ahead and drag that heavy ass pallet with the broken pallet jacks that we provide. What can I tell you? Things cost money. The paper says spend no money. No one wants to see anyone do better or get along. No one except Christians and even then it is only because it says so on paper. Face it if everyone was equal who would beg for your spare change?

Everything has its place in our society. Somewhere there is a paper with all of our rules that we need to follow and like anything else written on paper we only follow the parts that we want to follow at that time. Love the fuck out of some structure, but follow it? Go fuck yourself. So in conclusion suck a dirty dick you replaceable waste of a human life. By the way we all matter. People matter.” Smiles for everyone, but most of all for the cameras.

Over Here Please

I’m constantly bombarded with these notions and ideas that I should be doing this or I could be doing that. It is as though everyone has an idea of what I should be doing except for me. The shitty part is that it is never what I am already doing. It is always something that takes a commitment that I just don’t have right now. This is what I want to do. Whatever the fuck this is, is what I want to do.

I may not be the best at it but surely I am not the worst. Of course that’s not what anyone wants to hear. I don’t make shit doing this, but is that the only reason to do something? Some days it feels like the only reason I can’t lie about that even to myself. Though I know that it is not true. Life is a struggle this career is a slow march through hell.

It takes a toll on you. Hacking one piece of you away at a time until all that is left is a bloody stump that won’t shut the fuck up. I’m nothing more than a tortured soul tortured by my own thoughts and views. A constant pain that no matter how much I say I’ll keep having more to say. Even if no one is going to listen. But that is the point is it not? To find someone to listen to what I have to say. A never-ending struggle without no real sense of a goal. Here’s to another long night saying the same old useless shit to myself.

Chewing On Fears- A Yuffie Collaboration

A darken cloud, a sea of pain
I’ve only ever wanted to feel the same
A creature without a face
Upon this mountain I shall lay to waste

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“Hey Yuffie,” shouts Hydra

“What?” Yuffie asks

“Go feel sorry for yourself some place else. This is my spot,” Hydra declares

“No one respects my art,” Yuffie sighs walking off into the darkness


This tale is one four written for a Yuffie collaboration. Four tales by four writers about the character Yuffie. You can check out the other three tales at the links below.
Anthony Renfro of  https://wp.me/p2kmxm-5r3″

Mel Gutier of  “https://fictioninmyhead.com”

Peter Edwards of  “https://wp.me/p8dNOZ-HK”

Anthony Renfro of One Writer Ranting
Layne Ambrose of Chewing on Glass
Mel Gutier of Fiction in my Head
Peter Edwards of Little Fears

First off I’d like to thank Little Fears for giving me the opportunity and the invite for this collaboration. Very honored. If you are not familiar with Little Fears I highly suggest you check out his site. https://littlefears.co.uk  or follow him on twitter @thelittlefears
New content posted daily. 

Wait For It, It Pans Out, Kind Of

We spend so much time lately searching for something that has always been there. We spend our time pretending we don’t see it at all. Yet bitch and moan that only if this or only if that we could have a sense of purpose. Existence is nothing more than the idea to keep going. Bombs satisfy these needs only in defense. As an offense strike missiles provide nothing more than what they advertise. Destruction, destruction of a person, destruction of an identity lost only because they do not share the same view.

We preach that we are righteous, that we are holy, and that we are above all principled. Are we really when we do so much wrong? If we really cared. If we really wanted to make a difference and to prove we are what we say. We would spend money to educate, rebuild, and promote the acceptance of differences rather than bomb the living shit out of them.

We keep taking the easy way out and it never pans out. Not once has our way been the better way there’s just no one left to tell us so. Our ways will run out and we will fall. Not because our way was completely wrong, but because it is broken. Our society is better in so many ways, but there are way too many faults to outweigh the good. Our broken education system works wonders to promote an agenda we swear up and down that we are not following. Keep us deaf, dumb, and stupid. As long as we keep buying everything will be alright.

What happens when there is nothing left to own?

What happens when we have everything we will ever need as we have had for the past twenty years?

What happens to us then?

We fall apart as we are now. Our education is outdated by thirty years and counting thanks to all of our innovations.  Each year we fall behind because we can not keep up with the technology. The education gap is spreading further and further apart yet we keep hammering the old ways over and over again. We focus all of our efforts to teaching things that can easily be taught at home, and yet because we need so much shit there is no one at home to teach them.

No one at home who isn’t too tired to take a vested interest in what the fuck is going on. We are working so hard to realize this dream that we so deeply believe in yet no one can remember what it is we actually dream about. No one actually remembers why it is that we live. Why it is that we have come here in the first place. Fuck everything that moves of course and spread the sickness that is life.

Underground Parking Structure For All Eternity

I think of all the things that I have to say and all the things that I want to say. Two very different and conflicting ideas. The question is am I happy? Simple at first more complex as time goes on. Define the word happy or the feeling of happiness. No one is happy for longer than a few seconds. The feeling fades, cum and you are done, the feeling disappears into the brink of darkness. Overwhelmed by all the living done around me. I don’t remember a happy time from my childhood, but I can recall in detail every single horrible thing that I was put through.

I remember these things like most people remember fond memories of loved ones. It is that only these tortures memories were, are my only friends. Why must I always be submerged in darkness even in light? I wonder if it is just me. This is who I am. Depression is often described as though a dark cloud is always hanging overhead. Always ready to rain. The feelings never ends. Forty more years of this seems like an eternity yet the last thirty went to fast to be doing nothing at all. Choosing a path is so much harder without a trail.  So much harder in the rain from a storm that blinds my eyes. Built to be stronger than the way I portray in my life. Though maybe I am weak after all. Too weak to see the good that I still have left in me. Seems to lie with in the same region as happiness. It comes and goes, but really I’d love to be the one to destroy it all.

Burn it all down and absorb the screams. Enjoy the end much more than the beginning. Would be hard at first to go against nature. The day-to-day things might come back to haunt me. Faded memories, but I’d forget their faces after a time. I know by the time that it was all said and done I could get over the shock and aww. We paint the devil as a villain while giving him all the traits of a hero. A liberator of man only to be tinged by the flames he wanted all along. His punishment was his goal in the end. Who really won? We fight every moment to obtain what we are trained to never achieve. We praise Jesus, but worship Satan. Doing the right thing only gets you crucified. Suffer until there is nothing left. What if the bible is real, but we have miscomprehended it since the dawn of time? What then?

If God was among us what would she really have to say? Live your life or do it my way. It’s all the same as time goes on. We make choices for no reason at all and decisions on our own time. Nothing ever lasts, but we’ll wait until the last second to figure that out. Not an issue when there is still so much time left for me to decide.

Bowl Full of Something and It Keeps On Moving

Early, I’m always early. For what I don’t know. It’s not as though anyone is standing around ready to go. Waiting on me to show my ugly face. Always in a hurry to be done with whatever it is that I’m doing. Out of time, I’m always out of time I suppose.

I’ll be early for death and in a hurry to get it over with. Yet I suffer from extreme anxiety that I will die before I am able to accomplish anything. Whatever that might be. An enigma, I am an enigma. Andrew Jackson Jihad has a song called “This is Why I’m Hot.” In it the singer states that he only has two years left with no context to why he only has this much time. Since turning twenty-eight it is as though the song and the lyrics have become my mantra. How long do we chase the ghost? Until we die? I feel as though the longer I go the more the lyrics will depress me.

Who knows though maybe one day I will never feel like this anymore?

Maybe one day I’ll be dead. I fear that death is nothing more than one long therapy session. Constantly thinking, reflecting on a life time full of bull shit and regret. Worthless excuses to why I didn’t do this, but rather did that. I often wonder what it is that I will say if this is how death is. I suppose that is why I write. Get all of this off my chest before the big day. As I stated before always early and always in a hurry.

Wrap It Up

So many thoughts come to me but not a fucking one is worth mentioning at this point. Some days feel like a total waste of life and time before they even begin. Yet I still have the whole day to reflect on how shitty the day is. I’m sure I’ll come up with some epic idea by the end of day. Throw enough shit against the wall and you will have your masterpiece.

Only my mind seems to only want to cooperate right as I fall asleep because fuck you brain for always letting me down. Strike while the iron is hot. Too bad it is only at the worst times. Right before work, before I sleep, or any time I have to do some other shit. Dead ass tired again with no chance of sleep for three more days. How I can’t wait for Mondays. In this crisis for sleep everything feels as though it is coming down on me. Shit raining down on me, fighting me, against me while I’m curled up in a ball on the floor.

Who the fuck thought twitter was a good idea? An asshole with too many friend to care beyond 140 characters. I want to hear from you but keep it short and lose big words jerk off as no one has time to look that shit up. Next generation is so fucked and they are very welcome. Too bad we had to be the ones to bring it all down. Tear down society to leave our mark. At this rate the next generation will be running out of shit to burn down. The smile I have is so wide that it hurts. Fuck’em all.