So if you don’t remember I used to do this for a second… it has been a long ass time since the last one so I’m not going to link it to this one… sorry… not really… haha… the point of these type of posts is to have fun… learn a little bit about me… and you… feel free to answer the questions in the comments if you want… or make fun of mine…
The basic idea is that I answer questions from an old ass game… The Ungame… I found at a Goodwill… well that is it really… so it is clear… I am drawing these cards at random… let’s get going…
Turn 1… What Would You Do If You Had A “Magic Wand”?
Created a magic lamp… rub it… get three wishes… Make Hogwarts a real thing… go back to school with my “Magic Wand”… major in Defense Against the Dark Arts… too easy… Also I love how magic wand is in quotes… as if it was someone else’s idea… “Fine Carol we will add Magic Wand, but I just want to make it clear that this game has nothing to do with Satan. We simply heard of this so called magic wand.”
Turn 2… If You Were Lost In The Woods And It Got Dark, What Would You Do?
Who said I was lost?… The first thing you should ask yourself is how did you end up in these woods to begin with?… Did I drag you here?… Was it through a portal in the game?… Why am I holding this knife?… Have you always look as though you were carved to pieces?… probably best to not go into the woods with me… : )
Turn 3… If You Were A Doctor, What Ailment Would You Like To Cure?
This is a tough one for me… without hesitation I would say depression… that is what I would cure if I could… but… there is always a but… I don’t know if I would… I am torn… full of hesitation… I can think of so many people in my day to day life that I could help… and countless others around the world that could be helped from my answer… but in the same breath… I know of so many things in my life that I love and that I live for that wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for depression… My favorite books… my favorite music… my favorite films… the idea that we could lose so much art… is depressing in itself… then again I have seen depression destroy so many things that I love and live for as well… which is also depressing in itself… sometimes simply wishing something away isn’t so simple…
So if I could cure anything with a worry free answer… I guess I would cure addiction… getting rid of depression would help a lot of people… if we could cure addiction safely and make it stop forever… I think we could save and help everyone… I think it would even help other ailments like depression to a certain extent… it wouldn’t cure it… but even just a little bit of help goes a long way… I know it could help me a lot… though I wonder if more people would try certain things because they know that they could get “clean” at any point?…
This question is an education on how my brain works… I do this with everything in my life… Should I do the laundry? yes I should… but if I don’t I could do this… I can see how doing the laundry and not doing the laundry could help a lot of people…
Turn 4… Are You Remembering To Keep Your Answers Brief? Take another card !
Turn 5… What Bit Of Advice Would You Give A Young Man About To Get Married?
Young man?… I may be too hypersensitive… because of where I live and the period of time we are living… but does this question feel a little sexist?… I guess I will answer this question… though it goes against my moral code…
If I was going to give anyone advice on marriage… I would say to never lose communication… never forget that it is you and this other person against the world… not the world against each other… and the world is always coming… will you always agree?… haha… that would be something wouldn’t it?… doesn’t matter… if you agree on every little thing… what matters is that the other person knows you have their back no matter what… good or bad… that is the hard part… because it is so easy to say anything with nothing going on… but when the shit hits the fan… when one of you or both of you fucks up… because you will… we are all human… are you, can you stand up with them no matter what?…
I think marriage is an institution… it means something different to the people involved… as it should… because it is about the two of you not everyone else… to me marriage isn’t important… and it is… I didn’t need to marry my wife… if we weren’t married… I’d feel the same way about her… which is why I got married?… or married to her… I don’t know… what I do know is I found the person I wanted to take the world on with… the person I love no matter what… nothing is perfect or easy… life happens… shit happens… but through it all… that feeling… that idea… has never changed… so my advice is that if you aren’t willing to stand next to this person as they burn at the stake… shielding them from the flames… then you aren’t willing to stand next to them ever… (yes… advice to means a long rant… best not to ask advice from me unless you got time…)
Turn 6… Give One Word To Describe Each Person In The Group.
Insignificant sacrifice in my head Another day living among the dead Coming to the conclusion that All of this was never meant to make sense Another day living with your love Bleaching my brain to rid myself Of all this pain, dead memories The sick ideas of happiness A future without pain isn’t worth living Wish I could forget everything I have ever said Feelings left over in a dying heart Slowly learning this feeling Will never go away
Well good luck… I hope you find what it is you’ve been desperately searching for…
Time ticking away slowly Wasting minutes thinking about nothing Losing daylight wondering what could have been Each sentence longer than the last Each memory shorter than the one before Slowly eating away at myself Wasting hours wondering about nothing Losing night thinking about what could have been Knowing anything Never changed a thing Wasting away all the same Knowing anything Never changed the time Wasting away all the same Time ticking away slowly So much time wasted on what could have been Chasing ghost through the past
This is the sound of a heart breaking…
Spending time thinking about everyone else Fuck’em and watch them drown Society pressing down on me Why should I care when no one cares? Who the fuck am I to change what is Already broken? Fitting in never felt so ugly until the day I did Drowning couldn’t be the worst way to go When living each and every day Feels like a chore Think I am an asshole? Only repeating words that I have heard Throwing this shit right where it belongs Screaming into your face only got me so far Pushing limits to know the limits Have been pushed to the max Matter of time before All of this starts over An endless cycle I no longer want to be a part of Not the first person to feel like this Pressing harder against the skin Back the fuck up or I’ll make it all go away Maybe it is time to learn a lesson from what we say What we do, there has to be some solution Buried in all this shit There has to be something more than this Death and distractions, pressure and pain Stuck in the eye of it all No where to go Spinning out of control Now is my time To let it go
That last one just kept going… this group of Broken Thoughts… was actually based on the absence of thought… writer’s block in a way… had plenty of shit to say at the time… but I was too busy thinking about everything else… everyone else… thinking about all the time that I waste doing nothing at all… so much stuff that I want to do… that I just do nothing at all… that bothers me more than having nothing to say… it is one thing to have an empty mind and a whole other thing to just be lazy…
My excuse is that I’m tired… and maybe I am… but it is still an excuse… other people can do it… why can’t I?… perception is everything in this world… perception is shit… the world is an illusion… and yet I can’t help but look back on myself… reflect on all the negative things that I do… to myself… to others… to the ones I love… being human sometimes is too much to bare… perception will play with your mind… good and bad… maybe you think these things about me?… maybe I make it look easy… always busy… playing with perception…
Years invested in all these thoughts… nothing happened overnight… nothing has even happened yet… digging a hole one day I will regret… because that is the path of life… a grave is more than a hole in the ground… and a mind is more than the thoughts that surround it… broken or fixed… thoughts that I can’t help but live with…
The demon is back A casual friend from before Talking out all the things Buried deep within I think this will hurt I don’t care Could be worse I think this will kill I don’t care Everything could be so much worse Speaking from inside, experience to say Life is all about screwing it up Learn from these mistakes Mistaken as good advice Vice made, vices earned I deserve a fucking break From my brain for one fucking day I know this will hurt Do not care Couldn’t be any worse than before I know this will kill Do not care Everything could be so much worse
Who I was then verse who I am now…
A moment in time Reliving all the lies Hid myself from the pain So hard to find shelter before the rain I’d drown if it made everything better Sucking for air Walls closing in, chest tightening I knew it was there I’ve always known that pain would hurt Condition of living, conditioned to live A moment in time They all pass even with no end in sight Hid myself from the pain Broken heart syndrome with a broken neck Swaying to the sound Swaying to the end of all things that end I’d kill myself if it would take away everything Stupid idea, thinking then all the same Another useless day doing useless things Biding my time, each moment a moment Each thought something in time Take it as it comes What else did you have to do today?
I’m writing the ending while trying to live through the beginning…
The smell of shit litters the air This is the world we walk The world we live Walking with a crooked spine To fit in The devil may not exist Because he already won Victory can seem so empty With no one around to notice Truth in fiction Satisfaction in lies Can say whatever it is to win Perception is only part of the equation The view from the top is empty A lonely place reaching for the sky Claustrophobic at the bottom Climbing through all the limbs Tearing down each brick of the tower Raining shit and blood I ask you what’s the difference?
A lot of really interesting thoughts today… maybe I talk about them all… maybe I don’t… starting in reverse… the third one is one of the best things that I have written in the past year… for me at least… we’ve all heard that shit rolls down hill… or some version of this… I am sure every culture and every language has their own version because it is true… This idea though that shit goes to the bottom and that’s the end of that… is only one perception…
It is easy to hate the top… it is easy to sit here and being like really?… boo hoo for them… fuck them… fuck them indeed… I agree… except we are all just trying to claw our way to that point… we all want to be at the top… we all want to be them… to free ourselves from all this shit that keeps piling up… but the truth is… that the shit goes in a circle… is it easier at the top?… I’m sure it is… because I’m down here at the bottom…
Maybe it is age or just a lack of effort anymore… fighting everything to get to some theoretical top doesn’t seem appealing… it somehow seems so much worse than where I stand today… I mean if I’m going to have to fight… I’d rather fight to make everything around me better than climb above it… working out how I feel about it… as I write… so bare with me… maybe if we stopped fighting each other… stopped trying to push our way up… things could be so much better… working together rather than against each other… seems to be the answer all along…
We waste so much time and effort trying to be better than the next person… some very important ways it is important… it advances us… we advance… but the superficial shit… do we honestly believe someone in a Supreme shirt is so much better than someone who is not?… organic is a privilege?… shouldn’t it just be the norm?… do we really need a screen on every god damn thing?… or maybe hear me out… one is good enough… what we have is good enough… shouldn’t who we are define us more than the things that we own or wear?… you mean we’d have to get to know each other?… jaw hits the floor…
I know I’m not starting a revolution… I’m not saying anything I haven’t heard before… but I think for the first time in my life I am feeling it… I think about shit way too much… chewing on glass… and I’ll be the first to admit I think about my life after I’ve made it as a writer… the things I would buy and have and what I would do… sometimes the thoughts made me feel “happy” and sometimes they made me feel worthless… and lately… I’m going to be honest… I don’t think about the things anymore… I don’t care… nothing will ever be enough so fuck it… lately when I’m knee deep in shit… feel like all of this life is worthless… I think of my daughter… her smiling face… it makes me so happy at times that… I have to fight the need to cry…
I think about my wife and all the joy she brings to my life… I think of those around me… how one action can change their whole day… I think of what I already have and all the things I can do for those around me… not with money or gifts… though sometimes these things help… we still have to survive… I’m talking beyond the basics… we have to take care of ourselves and those around us… but do we need all the money?… do we need to have all the things?… shouldn’t we spend our time making this life better for everyone… instead of so much better for myself?…
We live this life backwards… we live this life selfishly… we live this life not in the pursuit of happiness… and no one can until they define true happiness… and it is not the things we own or the things that we don’t own… it is the things we already have… I know I am talking without any answers… I know what I am saying won’t change everything… but maybe… at the very least… it will be another perspective for us all to think about…
Hope all is well… Welcome to the new year… let the cycle begin…
What… No horror story?… honestly couldn’t come up with anything more terrifying than the idea that I won’t be back until January…
That’s right… it is that time again… really hope that you have enjoyed these last few months… the stories… the Broken Thoughts… and the rambling… enough about looking back… it is time to go out and get some candy… never too old for free shit…
Pro tip… Take a kid… people ask way fewer questions… Outside of who’s kid is this and what not… unless you already have your own… then you are playing the game on God Mode…
In the mean time enjoy this video… while I figure out what to do with it…
More to come… hopefully… not sure I needed to add more shit to my plate… but fuck it… crazy train is rolling out of the station… good night… and good luck… Hope all is well… I’m out to fucking lunch… see you all in January…
In a classroom full of Macs the information they must process, but they are here at this shit school. Which means they go to waste. Been in this class for over a week and we have yet to even turn one on. I’m in a classroom full of people I hate. Locked in a room with no key with people like me. Each and every one of them thinks they are better than me. Better than everyone else. The room feels claustrophobic and small. The room feels like hell. There are only twelve of us occupying the space, but it might as well be a thousand. The drugs I took today are not making this feeling go away. If anything they may have been bad, tainted. The teacher speaks in a way that is hard to understand. It is time to strap in.
It feels as if she is only talking to me, and I have to keep
reminding myself that she isn’t. The students seem faceless. They have the
blankest of stares that I can’t understand. I can’t see their eyes or their
mouths. I begin to sweat and I have to take my sweatshirt off. It isn’t enough
to escape the feeling that the room is on fire. I want to strip all of my
clothes off as if this is normal. But I’m not high enough yet to just do it.
The teacher keeps talking and the more I stare the more I notice that something
seems to be leaking from her eyes. She is smiling and laughing as more blood
pours from her eyes. The room erupts with the sound of laughter as the others
join in. Their laughs float in the air as if they are real objects. I fight the
urge to reach out to one. Take it into myself so I could join in. I’m getting
even more nervous by the moment. My sweat has soaked through my shirt and I
realize I am trapped in a nightmare the drugs are creating.
I start to see smoke come from behind the teacher. This must
be where the feeling of being trapped in a fire is coming from. I fight the
urge to shout anything out. Foot tapping to the restrained words inside my
head. Faster and faster my foot taps to a broken beat. The smoke gets thicker
and I find it hard to breathe. The orange glow of fire starts to fill the back
of the room. I feel the heat of the fire on my face. Maybe this is real, but
why aren’t the other students shouting and screaming? Why are they just sitting
there laughing as if everything is okay? I fake a smile as I look at their
blank faces. My face feels stretched against the fire. Locked in place with a
crooked smile. I want to leave but I am afraid. Afraid of what I might find
outside of this room. The teacher rises from her chair at the head of the
class. A monstrous force with pitchfork in hand. She waves it around her
pointing it at each and every one of us. Impaled fetus rest on each fork.
Cooked and barely distinguishable from burnt up sausages. Only the little charred
hands pointing back at me. She screams with a horrible sound that has no equal.
She screams in a language I can’t understand. A lost language that hasn’t been
spoken since the dawn of time. She paces the front of the room. Only stopping
to pound her pitchfork and let out another scream. It’s not real. It’s not
real. The other students respond back with their own horrible screams. It’s not
real. I just need to ride this out. I close my eyes and place my head on my
The heat around me rises to an unbearable degree as the
pounding of her pitchfork gets closer and closer until I can feel her right
above me. I scream as her burning hand touches my shoulders. Her face has
transformed into a face of scales and blood. She whispers to me as she looks
into my eyes. I watch as the students are engulfed in flames. They make no
noise as they burn. Through the fire I can now see all of their eyes. All of
their eyes staring back at me. The teachers places her face directly in front
of me. All I can see is her. Her scales breaking off into little flakes as she
moves her mouth. “I can’t,” is all I can manage to say. I fight the
urge to vomit and scream at the same time. I grab my backpack and try to ignore
the fact that it feels like something is moving inside. Running through the
flames I know this isn’t real, but I can’t stay here any longer. I reach for
the red hot handle attached to the black door. The handle feels cold as I push
down on it and enter the hallway on the other side.
The black door slams, but it sounds as though it is coming
from far away. I struggle through the hallway. Making my way towards the
stairs. Each foot step feels like a fight. Feels as though the bottoms of my
shoes have melted to the floor. Should I take them off? Even in a nightmare
state that seems like a bad idea. It takes me a moment before I notice the
others. I am not alone as I make my way through the building. More faceless
students surround me. Each one with a knife in their hands. I try to not draw
any attention to myself. Each step, each leg pulled with all the effort I have
left. I need to get to my car. It goes on like this for what feels like an
eternity. It goes on so long I forget what it is that I am doing and fall just
before the stairs. I manage to catch myself. The hallway grows silent. The
students are no longer going about their business. Picking myself up off the
floor I look around. The faceless students stare back at me. Each one holding
their long butcher knife beside them. The blades shine as they turn them from
side to side in an offbeat synchronized rhythm. The light in the hallway reflecting
off each and every one of them. I feel an intense amount of dread fill my
stomach. I don’t wait for them to do anything as I run down the stairs in
Step by step in a rapid fashion. Until I miss the last step.
Slamming face first onto the floor. I hear a rush of footsteps approach me. One
of the faceless students tries to help me up. Their knife rested next to me on
the floor. It speaks to me in a way that I don’t understand. I kick away from
the face my body filled with pain and shock. I crawl my way to the nearest door
and manage to get myself up on my feet. One of my feet hurts but I can’t tell
which one. My fears of going outside were justified. The sky is no longer sunny
or blue. The sky has turned a shade of red and the clouds have become a black
so dark that it couldn’t possibly be real. Little red flakes fall from the
black clouds. They float down around me in a slow motion usually reserved for
the movies. The flakes make their way to the ground and they slowly melt as
each one makes it to the ground. Forming puddles of blood that litter the
pavement. Bigger and bigger the puddles grow with every passing moment. It’s
not real. It’s not real. I sprint towards the parking lot. Pain shooting up one
of my legs.
The cars are misshapen and I can’t tell which one is mine. I take out my keys and press the panic button. My car begins to honk somewhere in the distance. The lights of the car flash on and off in shades of blue, red, green, and purple in no real order. They flash in a pattern that says here I am. I run to the car. Unlocking it with a push of a button and turn the panic mode off. I open the back passenger door and crawl inside. Crawl inside my new womb. The seats feel slimy and warm. The seats feel like home. A warm womb with windows? This isn’t real. This isn’t real. What is anymore? I ask myself as the seats pulsate as if they are real. I bury my head into the back seat and close my eyes against the warm. Feels as though my head is surrounded by water. Through it all I hear it. The sound of music, the sound of talking, the sounds of a distant memories I have long forgotten. The sounds of it all are taking over little by little by some outside noise. I hear scratching on the sides of my car. Too afraid to open my eyes I just scream into the seat. Scream until I finally pass out to the sounds of the students dragging their knives across the sides of the car. Waiting tear me away from my new home. Hands and knives pressed against the sides of my womb.
Wait… What the fuck?… Yeah I don’t know either… I spent a lot of time messing with this one… the basic idea was always there from the beginning… as most ideas are… first draft was weird and crazy… apparently I have always been weird and a little bit off… who knew?… but I thought lets turn this shit up to eleven… fun fact… I had to be removed by C section… had to be torn from my first home as well… if I hadn’t there was a good chance I would have died… cord was tied around my throat… my life line was not ready to let go?… I was also super late… two weeks… my mom thought I was never going to come out… almost didn’t as it turns out… spoiler alerts I made it…
I often wonder though… as the cord was tied around my neck… and the doctors told my mother to push… that in those moments… something happened to me… turned on a switch… told me to live… not to given into everything that was happening to me… of course these are adult thoughts… these are thoughts I have when all hell feels as though it surrounds me… I tried to inject that idea into this character… give him a piece of me… this isn’t real… this isn’t real… which this story isn’t… I’ve never done acid or any psychedelic drugs… for every reason presented above in the story…
If I can imagine all of that sober… I am afraid of what I would see high… which is where this story started… I like to explore the idea of what I might find over… actually going to find it… grass is greener where the dogs are shitting and all… I have been lucky… or too uncool… to have never been around drugs… I knew people who do them… know people who do a lot of them… just not around me… and all those that I know who do a lot of them… live a life I would never want to live… it looks brutal… miserable… but that is the life that they choose… that sounds like I am an asshole… and that could be a whole other post… condensed version of what I believe about life… is that we make our own choices…
I write a lot about drugs… A Lie for example… other stories found on this website… I try at all times to not make them sound fun… they very well could be… but I really doubt it long term… I have tried a few… the ones that I have tried I have liked… one for a short term (marijuana)… the other… well if you have been paying attention to the website for the last year… long term in a bad way (alcohol)… nothing too crazy… but in the very limited scope of what I have experienced… being sober has always been better… like everything in life… never at the time… only in hind sight…
So back to the question or thought I presented… why do you write a lot about drugs?… Honestly because they’re something physical… something tangible… something most of us can understand… because we all know someone or know someone who knows someone that does drugs or knew… some of us have done them ourselves… and also because you can’t inject… or snort… or smoke sadness… but as it turns out you can… and in the case of A Lie… that is where I went with that… same as I went here… this story isn’t real… I didn’t trip on acid and fall asleep in my car… I had a panic attack and feel asleep in my car instead… that is where fiction and truth collide… that is where I like to stand… that is where I like to be when I write… could I have written the same story for the same effect without drugs?… yep… but it would have been boring… been like digging at an old wound… where is the fun in that?… find out next week… complete with pictures as we dig deeper into my chest… : )
“It’s really easy when you think about it,” he
says in a casual tone. The man across from him tries to get comfortable in the
steel chair. “What is easy?” He asks. “The first kill, your
first kill,” the prisoner across from him answers. “How could it be
easy to kill someone?” He asks looking deep into his eyes. “How could
it not? There’s not much to it. Me or them? The choice is easy. Self-preservation.
There’s nothing difficult about killing,” he answers in the calmest of
ways. The lawyer across from him writes some things down, “Some would beg
to differ on your opinion. Some of the very men that surround you now. Many of
them are suffering in silence and try to a grip on what they did.” The man
unfolds his hands, crosses his arms and leans back as though annoyed by this
train of thought. “Guarantee they never killed anyone because they had
to,” he says. “You may have me there, but is there any other reason
to kill someone? Other then you had too?” He asks. “Stupidity, wrong
place at the wrong time, and the list could go on and on,” the prisoner
smirks. “What an interesting point of view,” the lawyer across from
him comments. “Some choices are not made because they are what you
necessarily wanted. Some choices are made for you before you even have time to
reflect on them,” the prisoner states. “Are you back peddling?”
He asks to no response. “So you are saying. What is it that you are trying
to say? That you didn’t kill those people because someone or something made
that choice for you, or are you trying to prove to me that your actions though
guilty are in fact deserved by the nature of the situation? Because neither of
them are going to work. You are neither crazy nor not guilty,” the lawyer
says to him.
“Thank you for your honest opinion about what is going
on here, but some may beg to differ. Those boys made their own choice when they
decided not to run. They made their choice when they raped and kidnapped those
girls from their school, and the state made their choices even more clear after
they let those boys go for lack of evidence,” the prisoner rambles on.
“The families were in the beginning stages of an appeal,” the man
states in a loud tone breaking his control over his emotions for only a second.
“I am the mother fucking appeal, the judge, and the god damn jury. Don’t
you raise your voice to me boy. You haven’t been to hell and back like I have.
You haven’t witnessed the true nature of man with your own two eyes like I
have. In some instances in life evidence or no evidence justice must be served,”
the prisoner slams his hands on the steel table in front of him. “And if
by some long shot you have seen the things I have seen then you are too chicken
shit to do anything about it like I have. That isn’t my problem,” he
finishes. “Violence doesn’t solve anything. We have law and order for a
reason,” the lawyer says getting his emotions in check. “Yeah how is
that working out for society? Murders, rapists, and God knows what else walking
the streets. Look me in the eyes and tell me those boys deserved to live. After
what they did,” the prisoner barks. “We don’t know what they did or
didn’t do. Couldn’t prove it in a court of law so we had to let them go as a
society. We can’t go locking up everyone based on rumored accusation,” the
lawyer states in an official tone.
“Rumors? Those boys confessed to everything,” the
prisoner says. “I’ve heard the tapes. They were under duress. All you got
there is evidence against yourself,” the lawyer lays out. “Oh, so
having something stuck where you don’t want is duress now? Odd during their trial
they stated those girls wanted what they got. Odd how perception changes the
facts,” the prisoner glares. “Very odd. Can’t speak for everyone in
the world, but I’m sure most people would agree being brutalized by a ten inch
lead pipe isn’t the same as nonconsensual sex,” the lawyer states.
“I’m pretty sure some would not agree with that opinion. I didn’t do
anything to those boys that they didn’t deserve. Just because they couldn’t
take their own brutality. Just because they were weaker than their victims
doesn’t mean I didn’t do the right thing,” the prisoner tries to
rationalize. The lawyer looks into the prisoners eyes. He sees the madness
buried deep within and the justified reasoning that blanks the surface. The
lawyer stands up and packs his things. “I’m done in here,” he calls out to the
guard down the hall. “Tired of the freak show already?” The guard shouts back.
The prisoner crosses his arms, “This is why the system is broken. We imprison
those willing to do the right thing. While letting the truly guilty, while
letting the evil of this world walk free.” The guard opens the cell and walks
right past the lawyer to lean on the table. “What was that freak show?” He asks
the prisoner before his body falls right into the steel table with a loud thud.
He makes loud gargling noises as he reaches for the pen lodged into his throat.
“You know you may have had a point,” the lawyer states. The prisoner reacts quickly. Grabbing the guard by the head he slams it harder and harder on the table until the guard stops making any noise at all. The prisoner looks up at the lawyer breathing heavy. Hands covered in blood and a look of confusion on his face. “The choices are never easy. Guilty or not guilty they all come down to circumstance. Those boys got what they deserved. You deserve the same opportunities that the state provided them. Only I hope you get away with it. I hope you make the best of what it is that you started. The state will never let you walk free. The state can’t afford for you to be out there. They look past others, but you they never will,” The lawyer states. The prisoner stands there stunned. The lawyer grabs the pen in the guard’s throat and pulls it out. More blood shoots out of the wound. He hands the prisoner the pen, “You are going to need this. To make it look official and all.” The prisoner takes the pen and makes his way out of the cell. Walking past the lawyer, the lawyer says one last thing. “You’re welcome. Not all justice should go unserved.”
Brutal… harsh… dark… twisted… the world is never how it should be… or maybe it is?… violence doesn’t solve violence… or does it?… where is the line?… does it change or blur… at children?… case by case?… does the line change based on an emotion?… how you feel?… who are you in all of this?… an outsider with an opinion?… right or wrong?… the god damn judge and jury?…
It is easy to side with the prisoner… it is easy to side with the lawyer… even without the facts… the choice seems easy… protect the innocent… but who gets to decided such actions?… are we innocent?… are we just in our actions every day?… the law is what we can prove… not what we know… is that fair?… should that be the way we decide the freedom of evil?… I don’t have the answers… because the choices are not easy… they are not clear… because there is no way of knowing anything… unless you were there… a place I hope none of us are ever at… turning a blind eye doesn’t answer anything… lost in our own conclusion…
“Despite purified air, despite not going out for months, despite no human contact in over a year, and despite a diet balanced out to be everything that my body needs. I have become sick. I have become infected with something I have to silently suffer with. Alone and isolated I lost everything and yet I still managed to pack everything for this exact scenario. I have planned every possible outcome of everything. The architect of my own demise. How could I have been so careless? They warned me long ago but I didn’t listen. I didn’t think it was possible. Chasing darkness into the night. Should have known better. Should have been better than to question the idea of immorality. I dreamed of immorality but what is it really? It is nothing more than infinite knowledge and a never ending legacy of pain and sorrow. Threw it all away. Should have let the idea of death take over. Would I be human then if I had?
I am well suited for immorality since anything that mattered
died a long time ago. I’ve given up on the idea of humanity. Become more like
God than I’d like to admit. I am as if I am immortal though only time will tell
how long it will last. Time and days are a human idea. Immorality and life are
God ideas, but where and what are you when stuck in between the crossroads of
God and man? I can create and destroy anything I wish by shaping this reality.
Shaping another’s reality. I am my own God and my own savior, but will I also
be my own end? The question fills my heart with no answers. The isolation
proves theories I thought were only myths. There is no God greater than the
sun. There is nothing beyond the stars but more darkness. There is no true
meaning of life beyond the end. Not when we can control it ourselves. I’ve
unleashed the end of all things to come. Now is the time for me to enjoy the
end. For we are our own damn God’s.”
“End of transmission,” the computer states. “But there is no body?” A solider questions. His uniform the same as the rest. “Then we have to assume he is still out there. We must find him. As long as he lives he holds the power to end it all,” his superior says. “So it is true then. He is the source. He is the God of all of us?” The young solider questions. “There is no God only the devil. This man is no architect of our creation or our end,” their leader barks. “He is nothing more than a virus. A sickness we have been trained and created to get rid of. We will find him and put a stop to all of this. Now let’s move out,” he orders.
This one is a bit of a stretch… not a whole lot of information given… yet it is packed full of information… if you remember Chasing Darkness and Beginning of All Things… These three stories are connected by a very thin life line… when going through my notes I found these three different stories… not connected but very similar… on their own they were okay… but if there was a sub theme of connection?… got me excited enough to finish them off…
So if this didn’t start off as a connected story… but rather a stand alone story… what was I writing about… the opening paragraph… the only part kept from the original notes… was actually the first pass at whole other story… a still work in progress story called the Undamned… I hope to turn that into a book some day… that story and this story stemmed from my overall desire to disappear into the darkness…
At the time I was working overnights… long hours… isolated and divided into a small group of people… looking back it was a pretty fucked up time for me personally… but as a writer it definitely produced a lot of ideas and thoughts… left to my own devices I’d probably do nothing but write… create… sounds pretty awesome as a writer… but it isn’t a life… it isn’t living… took me way to long to realize that… took me way too long to understand that life is about those around you and not all about you… took a lot for me to open my eyes… but having a child really forced my eyes open…
Having a child made me rethink my whole existence… what I was willing to do or not do to keep living in this world… before then I didn’t “care”… before then all I cared about was myself… you can get through life just fine that way… I was doing fine… my life has always been good… can’t say life didn’t happen… good or bad… life happens… but overall I can’t say my life was bad… had someone I thought I loved more than myself… a child will test the limits of everything you think you know about yourself…
Turns out not only did I not know what love meant… I didn’t know what life was either… not sure I will ever know what life really is… not sure any of us are meant to understand it completely… with eyes open I learned that there are only two things in this world I can’t live without… air… earth… and water… are just fine… but they aren’t worth as much as we think without those around us… living isn’t about being alive… I guess is what I’m trying to say… got lost in the emotions in a good way…