Hatred and Me: Reasons I'm an Idiot 30MAY13

Medium:  tumblr


I’m the second luckiest person in the world. Honestly that doesn’t mean much. It’s like being everyone else. Faceless, a silhouette. But only compared to the first. So what does the first have that I don’t? That’s easy.

Everything I want.

I’ve lived a relatively short life. But in that short time I’ve seen and experienced enough to make me dread getting out of bed in the morning. I’ve faced pain, sorrow, strife, depression and in a lot of cases they weren’t even mine. As a kid I knew exactly what I was. What I could be. And I mean that. It’s why I put into place a foundation that would serve to cause me endless amounts of displeasure and effectively hinder my social development well into adulthood. Never could suffer the easy route for some reason. I guess if you hear about nothing worth having coming easy you start forgetting that results aren’t always immediate. The good, the bad, it’s all cumulative. And developments are amplified therein by all the choices and decisions that preceded them, constantly ever evolving until reaching that elusive peak.

So what’s wrong with this if not that I must not truly want it? Why is it whenever I desire more than anything to ask the one question that may very well grant me all I could ever hope for, it becomes a matter of destroying lives? Maybe because that’s what’s at stake. Maybe because that’s very much what I’d be asking, to sacrifice others for my own happiness. She asked me if I’d ever ventured into erotic fiction…

It isn’t a particularly notable day. The sky is blue and the ground is dirty. Amidst a foreign land stands a foreign body. A visitor. Humble, unassuming, but quite nefarious. It only takes a moment’s glance at the clouds traversing the skies above before he begins his own journey.

She’s just getting out of the building. It’s an uncharacteristically long day. But all days she has to be in that office are long. She makes her way along her usual route. Soon she’ll be home and doing what she could use the most after such a day. Absolutely nothing. A cloud catches her attention. Unlike the masses, she wasn’t much for avoiding the heavens. And in another moment she’s back on her way.

He’s lost. Directionless. It all starts to hit him at once. Maybe it isn’t such a good idea after all. Maybe it was all a mistake. Maybe he should just turn back now and pretend as if the entire fiasco never took place. He mulls it over, his legs still taking him ever forward. He should’ve spent more time paying attention. Someone bumps into him. Hard. He falls back catching the ground by his rear. Whoever did it will get a piece of his mind as soon as he makes it back to his feet. That was the plan at least. But as he brings his eyes from the dirt he locks in on the reason he was even there to begin with. Clearly it’s a sign he tells himself. Now, just to make sure it isn’t wasted.

She’s waiting as a cab pulls up. Her routine. She opens the door but hesitates briefly before entering. Just the strangest feeling overtakes her. She stops to check her phone. She quickly dismisses it as nothing and gets in. The vehicle pulls off slowly into traffic. She’s just this much closer to her freedom.

He watches as she takes off. He’s stuck, waiting, trying to cross the street. His trip is seeming more and more like a fool’s errand. He’s about to lose possibly his only opportunity. But, he didn’t come all this way just to fail. Especially not when so close already. He hails a vehicle and before long one conveniently pulls up. He hops in and immediately exclaims, “follow that taxi!” The driver’s response is beyond him. A foreigner in a foreign land. His opportunity continues to dwindle. “Never mind,” he grunts at the driver in frustration quickly making his way out of the vehicle. Guess there’s the old fashion way he thinks.

It’s a slow drive. Today of all days being what it was, the roads are full of plenty of other homeward bound. Frustration begins to work its way in. She has a mind to just get out and walk. It is late however. It’d be irresponsible. The cab is forced to take a detour which passes by a familiar place. On a whim she decides to get out there. It’s Friday. She has till Monday before she need worry about work again. Just going to pick up a snack she tells herself. It won’t take long at all.

He makes his way up the street and identifies her cab. It’s stopped but not in front of what of what looks like a house. Doubt sets in. Perhaps he’s mistaken. Maybe he was chasing the wrong one this whole time. Would this really be it for his little adventure? He had to confirm. He made his way over to the car as the door to the shop opens. It’s her. And before he knew it, their eyes were locked.

She sees him. She drops her snack. She’s dreaming. It couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be him. She’s speechless. She’s lost in her own mind. The sound of her overzealous driver’s horn brings her back. She picks up her things and makes her way to the curb. She watches him make his way to her. She’s scared. She’s excited. She’s nervous. She’s mad. He’s standing before her. Sweating, a little out of breath. He puts his arms around her. She doesn’t resist. He whispers, “I’m here for you as promised my love.” She’s happy.

It’s a roller coaster. He’s just following her lead. Nothing seems as foreign anymore. Not as long as she’s with him. Her scent fills his nostrils. He’s taken by her beauty. His heart is a flutter. He doesn’t know where they’re going. He doesn’t care. Time had stood still. It could’ve been 20 seconds, it could have been 20 minutes. He places his hand on hers just to watch her pull it away. He moves in closer to say something as she stops, turns toward him, and places two fingers over his lips. “Not yet.” The words slide out past her luscious red lips. He’s not sure what to feel more. Love or passion.

She leads him up to a reception desk. She’s pure business. This is nothing, rudimentary. After completing the transaction she leads him along. She can feel him. She can feel what just being in his presence is doing to her. She isn’t happy with the surprise but it couldn’t have come at a better time. The night’s about to be a long as the day. Only this time it’ll be in the service of what she wants to do as opposed to has to do. It’s a quiet walk. She knows he has questions, but they’ve talked long enough. This night, there would be an extreme lack of it. They make it to a room. She turns to face him. His arms make their way around her. She hugs him back. Her eyes begin to tear up. “We should go in” travels to her ears. That voice, even better in person she thinks. It was going to be a sleepless night.

The room barely gets a glance as they make their way straight to the bed. Both know exactly what’s going to happen. They’d been dreaming of it, longing for it, craving it almost since the very beginning. She’s the love of his life, he thinks to himself stripping down to his shorts. He makes me happier than anyone ever has, she thinks to herself as she removes her work attire. They make their way under the sheets. The bed is huge and soft. There are pillows all around them. The sheets, overly festive. It’s perfect for what they have planned. He can see worry in her eyes. “What’s wrong?” he posits. “Nothing, it’s just, do you…have it?” The words timidly escape. “Of course,” he reassures her. Everything truly is perfect, their union has been long overdue.

“I’m ready,” she tells him. “I love you,” he replies. “I love you too,” she adds before the both cuddle in closer together. He places his arm around her. She looks him in the eyes. His happiness is apparent. He kisses her forehead before announcing, “Here goes.” And just like that, the TV comes on and it’s the show that started it all. Season one. It’s going to be a marathon night. They both smile. It’s going to be a long night. Certainly the very best kind.


Scratch Paper Thoughts

Haven't done a 2.0 in a while now. Mostly just because I realized after the last one that I've been out of the loop. I used to be on top of tech news but I've been grossly slacking. My resources are and have been pretty out of date. Needless to say, even my own innovations have been lacking as well. I want to get back into that. So here we are I guess.

Looking at the way things are going right now, I've found myself looking toward smaller innovations. Things to augment the tech we already have now. Broad spectrum stuff like the 'modular model' are on my mind but I can't say in earnest that such is something I truly want to discuss here. At least not for now. Still have to clear some stuff up in my head before I just put it out there so I guess I'll stick with a much smaller idea. I present to you, "AI."

Nothing fancy, I'm just talking about Artificial Intelligence. I know, I know, already a thing, but then I think there's the issue. It's already a thing but it's implementation is so infantile that it's baffling. At least to me. Honestly. How is it we have pseudo-AI and we're still having "disagreements" at a [insert highest level of government] level on literally ANYTHING that falls solely on statistics to find trends/patterns that can be used to determine efficient and effective measures for the populous as a whole? Likely the same reason why a robot apocalypse is very possible. Because the people who run the world (publicly) grew up in an age when computers didn't exist. And because of that, we're all doomed to be ill-prepared for the transition period. Not going to say WWIII but well, WWIII. This is the precipice of the next age. But this is digital. The lag behind will be like first versus third-world. Of course third-world will then be the equivalent to like tenth at that point though. And just like that we're slowly shifting into a Mainstay. Guess I'll have to re-brand and try again at a later date.

True AI has been described as being infantile by those in the field because common understanding (amongst the scientific community) is that understanding of human intelligence is still so limited. That's laughable to me. I keep seeing things like that--see such as great debate with autonomous vehicles tackling moral dilemmas--and wonder where the disconnect seems to be propagating from. At the core of computer science is binary. At the core of humanity? Generally speaking? DNA. Now I'm overly simplifying this but bare with me here. We're talking a difference of two on a scale that expands outward in factors almost infinitesimal. So, it matters. The difference that is. It matters and with it is the problem. Not emulation, but the expectation that computationally artificial intelligence would behave like that of a human. What the hell!? How? It's baffling to me. As much as it is nonsensical. But here were are. "Lost in Translation." I should link back to one of my more recent Mainstays but lazy. Okay, not lazy enough I guess. Anyway, correlation right? Miscommunication. There is a gross disconnect and, main point, that's what's holding humanity back from the next stage of evolution. Bold statement? Sure. But this is why it's a mainstay now. So close it up.

Full disclosure. I have been seeing some scarce but very real rumblings of like-minded individuals but they seem to be drowned out by mainstream. Or then again, could just be due to my outdated sources. Either way, feels a bit better to finally clear this off the mind a bit. Even though it feels a bit derivative and is a stark departure from the original goal but flow is flow. We just let it take us, so sayeth the writer or some proverbial BS and whatnot. Back to the reg stuff some ever. Take care.


The Moon's Night Off



Medium:  iPhone Notes

Corrections in Brackets


His name was ML. It was until his death that the true birth of Morribb Lehrer would come about. But it wouldn't be until the next death that Mael Lehrer would awaken. Perpetually trapped in limbo. That was the life of the lost black sheep. The pain and suffering were the only friends he couldn't rid himself of. The darkness drew him in and to divvy out what little substance was left of himself was all he had. To cry and scream and bleed; to surrender it all to the page was the best he could do to expunge it from his insides. He stopped wanting to feel. He stopped wanting to be a hero. He stopped moving forward and that meant insanity for certain. He was alone but shackled to the broken system that propagated the world before him. It was the most special kind of Hell. He just wanted to be safe. But he lost sight of himself and before he knew it the years had piled on. He had gotten old and his life had evaporated. There was nothing but barren s[urr]ounding his very being. His soul. It took entirely too long but it had to happen eventually. He would do what was necessary. He would say goodbye.


The First Paragraph Was Yours

It's easy to forget how much food poisoning sucks. Too terribly easy to forget. But then you get it and remember. That was my yesterday. Honestly this whole week has been questionably rough. It's my last week as a "free agent," of sorts, and I'm overloaded with all the work I have to get done. Backstory. I essentially signed a deal with a 'devil' so everything I produce after the 31st will no longer be mine. Not the best of circumstances but then again, there weren't exactly tons of other options available to me. Struggle. Fight. Kick. Scream. Never give up. The essence of the foundation my persona would be built upon. Or at least a large part of it. Yeah, it has also been a pretty heavy week of introspection as well. April is shaping up to be positively frightful. And me the very first fool.

You ever find a song that so encapsulates your feelings about an event? So much to the point that it kind of frightens you? Yeah, I found that song in the throws of trying not to expel waste from both ends of my body at the same time. Let me preface this by saying I've found "close," I've found "relatable," but then this is just eerie. Perhaps it's merely evident that for whatever it was, it just wasn't that special after all. Wasn't that unique. That it was, for all intents and purposes, a shot at normalcy. No wonder it was doomed to fail. Still looking for answers I guess. Getting back to zero is harder than anything I've ever done before. But of course it is. I'm trying to transcend, myself, essentially. I worry about all the things I'll lose. But the decision has been made. I can't continue on as I am. Not in this broken state if I desire to affect existence in any meaningful way.

Feels like I'm just stacking up on unexplored references. It's convoluted. I'm on to the next and that's a great disservice. Maybe I'll fix it in post. Some of it can just be rectified by links. Others will just have to be what they are I guess. I'm avoiding things again. I was accused of beating around the bush a lot. It's not wrong. For a 'writer' I sure as hell like to take my time committing words to the page. Not enough clearly since a cursory perusal through my backlog will find plenty of errors, grammar/spelling/otherwise, but yet I still continue to push. Maybe it's the defect. I don't like closing doors. That might seem laughable but it's true. I've always left a path open to myself and while it may seem as though I don't bother or even ignore things, I most certainly don't. When anything becomes strained, especially with relationships, I pull back and try to take more time to evaluate the proper words/actions. Seems like I got into the habit of saying nothing at times. Seems I developed a habit of waiting until I got to a point where I could find the right words to convey what need be said. I don't like making the same mistakes twice. I don't ever want to end things. Especially not those things that brought me happiness and joy. But I suppose that's naivete. I'm too old to still have that kind of hope. Aren't I?

Haven't had a beard this long in a while. I forgot how much I missed it. I already feel like I'll miss it. I'm surely at peak raggedy right now. Working on four songs, three literary pieces, stockpiling content for here, and continuing work on the foundation for what will eventually amount to my legacy in this world. It doesn't seem like much when typed out that way. I'm pushing through though. Past the pain. Past this horror-view future that's been haunting me. I have this uncanny ability to string together notes and make what passes for rudimentary music. The first time I put it into play on a larger scale beyond myself and 'friends' was with the creation of a mandolin melody. I'd link to it but I'm sure it'll be a Throwback sometime this year or next. Next up will be a piano melody. Using it for the back beat to one of the 'hardest' songs I've ever written. No jokes. Just laying it all out bare. Should have the rough finished by the end of this week. Need to find a studio or the money to upgrade my equipment so all this stuff doesn't sound like trash but seeing as I can barely afford food right now, I guess it is what it is. Oh, I suppose that's why I didn't make this into a separate paragraph like I normally do with new topics. Was accused of making everything a test as well. So many faults in one person. Of course I don't have any friends.

This should be far enough. It's all true but I suppose superfluous as well. I'll miss my chess partner. But she made a choice and I have to respect it. I messed up. It's always me. My fault. No one should ever be apologizing to me. For anything. Because at the end of it all, it's all on me. My interactions with the world have made that abundantly clear. I said the wrong things. I ruined things. I may be what one wants at the time but I'm not what they need. I'm not necessary. I keep tabs on the people I care about. Sparingly. I don't want to lose my connection to them. I look for happiness. I look for betterment. I always hope to find it so that I can validate my choices. It's a "catch-22." If they're doing well, it's because I "left," if they're doing poorly, it's because I interfered in their lives. I am better at a distance. That's the life I wanted as a kid. To do good but remain in the shadows. Why I idolized heroes. Why it was so easy to adopt an alias. A persona. Maybe perhaps even why it was so easy to have my mental state broken. Fragmented. The ideal versus the reality. But there was a third thing. Entity. The intermediary? Spent so much time trying to bridge the gap while stuck as the intermediary; stuck in limbo. Fracturing more and more. That's why this can't be that. That's what resetting back to one is. That's why it has to be zero. That's what worries me though. I'm electing to remove someone from my life. Truly. Permanently. The first person I'll ever truly disavow. I've said goodbye to two of the most pivotal parts of my adult existence and now I say it to one more. Though this is far more than a goodbye. This isn't for their sake like the others. This is for me. To me. This is closing a door. This is goodbye to me. This is where I finally die.

Goodbye M- T- L-



Another in the shoot I guess. This one is about the movie "Annihilation." Don't worry, this isn't going to be a thing. At least I don't think it will be. I just happen to watch a lot of movies. That and this one gave me reason to write of course. So, before the jump. Wasn't a fan.

"Annihilation" by all rights should be a good movie. Great actors, action, kick-a ladies, sci-fi elements, decent to great CG/practical sets/design? What's not to like? Put simply, the ending. The ending ruined the entire experience for me.


The end of the movie reveals that the thing that came back was actually the creature. There were no human survivors. Now why does that matter? Because it in essence effectively negates the entire story we're being told. Everything, literally everything is told from the viewpoint of the former Army Soldier/College Professor who turns out is a doppelganger. Everything is a little excessive. Apologies. The very beginning is credible. It's just everything after the "return" is up for grabs. And that is what rubbed me the wrong way. Maybe it's nit-picky, oh, no, it's definitely nit-picky and I am getting old so it's fair but still that just bothered me. Like, what did I just watch? Was this all just a waste of time then since it was clearly a lie? So what really happened?

You know? Upon further reflection, maybe that's the most genius ending ever. If they make an Annihilation Part II, maybe it will follow what actually transpired. That'd be pretty dope. And then the third could be what happens next. I'd be on board for that. Excuse me for being so presumptuous earlier. Though I doubt there's any chance in hell of that route being explored, it's still nice to think about. Anyway, there goes my thoughts. Thanks for the visit.



Medium:  iPhone Notes


Find me alone in the crowd. Find me looking for hope in all the worst places. I'm far from a home I've never known, along a path with an end beyond conception. At some point I'll look back and find myself stuck again. Forward seems so far away.


Wrecked My Savings, My Car, and My Chances at Happiness

Listening: TT0: The Journey Through

Goodbye Anne.

Figured I'd get that out of the way first and foremost. Could honestly chuck that up to something "I should've sent" long ago. If I'm being truthful, I suppose somewhere deep down inside, I thought there may be some slim chance or hope of there being an "us" again somewhere down the line. But well, given the circumstances....

I wrote of zero at the last "check in." Since, I've been trying to figure out just quite what that meant. Since then I've almost died several times. I took a risky trip in an even riskier mental state. Needless to say, I'm broke again and my car needs about three grand in repairs. It's funny because this is the only outlet to share that. There's no one else I can talk to about this all. I am alone again after all. Prostitutes...

Don't trust drug addicts, or something along those lines. I started watching "Breaking Bad." That was a line uttered toward the end of season two. Made me laugh and want to put a bullet in my head at the same time. I know this is withdrawal. I know it's going to hurt for a good long while but it's also something else. The something else mixed in is what's making this so much more of a hassle. If it just hurt it'd be whatever but it's like it's there but not there at the same time. I can't even force a cry. I can't get this out, it's just buried so deep that I can't even touch it but at the same time it's consuming me whole. What the hell is this new pain?

I'm not working right now. All I have is time. Time to dwell and it's ten kinds of "great." Timing couldn't be any better. I just keep thinking about one thing more than anything else. 'How could I have handled this better?' I felt the end coming so I crafted an out for her. Just didn't expect her to take it so soon. Just didn't expect her to have thought so little of me and my feelings and my soul laid bare for her. My fault for thinking I mattered. Been down that road already though. I don't matter, yadda yadda. So what now? Zero.

What does that mean though? Deconstruction. That's actually step two in the path but I won't be able to function much longer at this rate so I don't have the luxury of time anymore. I need to break down to the foundation before I can start to build again. Unfortunately for me that means This place may very well be going dark for awhile. Collateral damage. Or maybe not. Who knows. Just that if I do this right, I won't be this anymore. So I guess I can thank her for that.

A new adventure awaits. Never felt so ill-prepared in my life. The hallucinations aren't helping either. Still not sleeping either. But that doesn't matter right now. Have to keep moving forward. And with that, another important step. Goodbye Kim.

Time to start Chapter Two, at Zero.



Honestly I've just been avoiding this about as long as I've been thinking about just how to articulate my thoughts on it. It being "Black Panther" of course. The movie. The most recent in the Marvel cinematic universe. Yes. This is a review. Of sorts. So let's just start off with the premise. I thought it was just okay.

It's a strange place to be, a strange time to be alive. It hasn't been all that long since the movie came out and already it's being heralded as prolific and iconic and a game-changer, etcetera, etcetera. So many people have so many opinions on how great and grand and lovely the movie was but I found it pretty lackluster. Truthfully I found myself more emotionally invested in the reactions of non-POCs than the movie itself. Don't get me wrong, there was some phenomenal acting going on. Michael B. Jordan? Danai Gurira? Winston Duke? Andy Serkis? Simply killed it. Chadwick Boseman, the titular character wasn't bad either but I just was a bit more invested in the stories of the supporting cast. And my goodness, Letitia Wright? From "Black Mirror" to "Black Panther?" I can see her picking up a lot more work in the very near future. But I don't want to just leave that little strand out for grabs. The mass reaction and any sense I can make of rectifying it with my own has me putting thought to the page in the first place.

The CG was subpar. The transitions fell short of the quality expected of Marvel properties. The practical scenes looked and even to an extent felt so authentic and pure but then not-so-subtle lines would destroy a moment. ahem "what are those" ahem The ending felt rushed. I don't know how it can't be considered as a trend at this point for Marvel to kill its antagonists. The standouts being Spider-Man which to be fair would be a pretty bold swing considering the hero's 15-ish and Civil War where, really they could've just done it but because they didn't, made it so much more prolific. From Marvel's Netflix shows to its cinematic, so many villain chapters seem to be permanently closed thanks to plot. Which really, is just so uncomicbook-like. Just a note.

But really, the movie wasn't bad. It just feels like it got that extra bit of hype from the inherent guilt pushed mainstream by this post-PC climate that seems to have taken hold of the United States. When non-POC are talking about how revolutionary a movie that was generally pretty mediocre is, how can any POC not see the "why?" Not saying it's true for all but that, looks like a duck, talks like a duck.... I've never really cared about representation. Growing up I just like good stories and fantastic visuals. Race didn't matter to me as I longed to connect based on ideals and personality. But all this talk now just makes me wonder. And I can't even begin to unpack why it is infuriating to hear non-POCs tout praises. The new "Get Out" which was the new "I would've voted for Obama a third time" except it wasn't "Get Out." This was a super hero movie. I'm a fan of super heroes but even I can't overlook the glaring flaws. Or maybe it's because I am a fan that I can't. Either way. While I await the next in the shoots I just wonder, no, hope that they will be better. And hope that whatever wild haze is clouding the minds of the masses finds a new home so creators can get back to what they should always be doing, creating that which expands understanding and furthers the evolution of the mind, body, and soul.



Medium:  iPhone Notes


Why don't I feel anything? Is this the role or is it me? What am I doing here other than wallowing in my own pit of, of, what is this? I don't know what I feel right now. It's not depression. It should be but it doesn't feel heavy. Where are the feelings. Why can't I find them? She said I was passionate but then why am I having so much trouble trying to find the part of myself that is worth genuine connection? Need to stop the manipulator. Or is that all I am now? Am I so lost that I'll never be able to be free? Who am I even asking these things right now? I know my place now. That's what I feel. Finally I feel something. Embarrassment and shame. There's the place I exist within. I played the game and lost. The world owes me nothing but will take everything I have and more. Burn it all. Get rid of every last bit. Guardian is all I'm allowed to be anymore. It's the only thing this pain is good for. Stop retreating. I am acting like a child. I've been spurned once more. Even money isn't enough to bypass my social ineptitude. But I knew this already. I need to stop turning away. Embrace this feeling. Let it hurt. Let it cut deep and let it all bleed out. Free the pain and be freed by it. Have to hold on. Feel it fading already. I want it. I want something. Anything. But I've tired of this game. Hurt me, wound me, break me, but unless your final answer is death STOP WASTING MY TIME. I wonder what my voice sounds like now. I wonder what I am after all this. Have I changed at all, I suppose I'll find out somewhen else. Call me something else. Let me be anything else. Or will pain eventually bring me to the truth. Saint Sage Guardian or Deadlamb Wonderland. I can be anything but me. Anything but free.


While I Was Homeless...

Been a while. If the title is indicative of anything, it's that I was homeless for a bit. That doesn't exactly encapsulate all the time I spent away but again, with the scheduled posts it's not as though it'd be all that noticeable. Noticeable. I'm writing for an audience again instead of myself. I realized that such is what this has become. It saddens me.

I had a lot of time to think as I was in between domiciles. I Snap'd my time in the wind. It was interesting to see the people that showed concern. Some familiar. Some unexpected. Really put things into perspective. I wanted to respond to all of them but I couldn't. I didn't. I was still reeling from the loss of my only friend. The first person I let into my world in many years. Needless say, she ended things. Honestly, the worst part wasn't that she didn't even say goodbye, it was the fact that she gave up on me so easily. The fact that since January she was pulling away. The fact that she started lying and manipulating me. The fact that throughout it all I would've and still would give just about anything to have her back in my life.

We weren't dating. Just turns out we weren't really friends either. I realized that when she stopped trusting me. When she would respond to me like all the others I come across in my life everyday. I thought she would be different. For a while she was. She seemed to listen to me and was actually interested in my life. But then after what happened I wonder now if it was just all about the money in the end. Was it a con from the start or did I tank things somewhere along the way? Answers I'll never get I guess. So what of the answers I did get? I think I finally found out why I'm stuck in misery. Maybe.

I am not human. Bold claim but it's the truth. That's where I've been going wrong these past few years. I got a taste of humanity and thought it could be something for me. I was wrong. Sadly it took this meteoric fall to show me that. What was it I used to say back in the old days? 'Things like us don't get to die happy?' Yeah. It's really odd how a stroll through one's crudely documented past can reveal an almost prophetic insight into the world and its inhabitants. Odd and then some.

My biggest error in judgment was when I stopped looking outward and started trying to focus inward. There's where and when all the conflicts started. The core of this being isn't made for that. While I am merely a passenger, I should've known not to try to steer. I've lost sight of the revelations, of the philosophy, of Guardian. I am but a dull blade as I am without. I understand that now. But I don't know just how to get back or even if such a thing could be possible.

I haven't abandoned anyone. I haven't let go of anyone. But perhaps that is the problem. Every fall is just a drop back to zero. Every build is on the same failed foundation. No. I'm mistaken. The foundation is sound. I've just not made it to zero. I keep building from one. Morribb. I need to start back at zero.

Thank you. Another adventure awaits me. Soon I will be required to be something greater. I won't be ready but I will fight. That is my purpose. Fight. Save all. My name is now as it has always been. My "place" no longer eludes me. This world could never have one for something like me. I mustn't forget that again. Never again.

Let's start, Day Zero.



Medium:  iPhone Notes


Bored now. Strip clubs probably aren't the best place to practice social norms. Trying to figure out what I want is difficult while pretending to care. Have to suppress the manipulator. Right? This is too difficult. And I hate smoke. I feel like I don't belong again. Here's to the home of my dreams. May I find my way to you some day.



Medium:  iPhone Notes


Some good, some bad. I find myself in the same place I've always been. The dark. The murky. I am not "I" but just an "it." A denizen of the murky. Not quite where I belong but far too tainted to be allowed the grace of the light. I am just anger and pain now. And lies. I'm something far worse. I don't even have the conviction to give into the few emotions I feel left. This is the danger. The joke. The last time I can use such before it becomes a crutch. I've forgotten how people do it. I've forgotten how to be one of them. To suffer their intrusion on my existence. Am I supposed to feel something now? Am I supposed to know what I know and pretend, anything else? The dark feels like a suit. A nice shade to hide within. Is this the first level of hell or am I already swallowed whole? I forgot why I started this in the first place. For even the ash to burn. I can't have anything left or I'll be doomed to repeat this misery forever. All or nothing if I'm to ever be free.

I'm just so good at being alone. Especially when I want anything but.


04MAR17 II

Medium:  iPhone Notes

Context:  Corrections in Brackets


Watch me as I continue to slide down this path of destruction. So distraught in such a cold dark but what else is there for those that have rejected humanity? To be something greater or simply out of fear of being so much less. Dead men tell no tales so I suppose I must still be alive. Somewhere or something inside me. I'm not supposed to be here. I'm just afraid. I don't want to be here. There's nothing truer. I just don't want to be here. This was his world. It'll never be mine. Not this time, not any time, not ever. I have not the necessities to make a place for myself. That was never my function. The trek awaits. So I continue.



"What am I?"

That's been coming up a lot lately. The answer is never satisfying. The answer is never what I want it to be. I was asked if I was a good person. I hesitated. Before I could figure out how to answer the person no longer wanted to hear it. 'Ask yourself that and when you have the answer tell it to yourself.' That stung. I didn't say 'ouch' though. The person has no idea how much it sucks to be right all the time. So much so that even when you call yourself anything but, you're still it. Right. It's laughable. No. It's just sad. It's sad and I still don't understand how to relate to humans in a manner that is acceptable for both parties. I wonder if that's the nicer way to answer the question. I am unrelatable.

For what seems like the longest time now I've found myself wondering if there was something wrong with me or the world. Should be a no-brainer but whenever I speak to the crisis hotline or therapists they imply that perhaps it isn't. Me that is. So I've been putting it to the test. My life is full of setbacks. Every life is. Instinctively I attribute the blame to me and my shortcomings. The implication is that depression makes one less objective. So, I try to leave myself open to the possibility that I'm just catastrophizing. Recently though things expanded outward into all aspects of my life. I lost every friend I once had. "Lost" would be a lie. I distanced myself from them. The reasoning is convoluted but what it amounts to is the fact that I didn't feel like they were true friends anymore. Now, just over half a decade later, trying to make a friend again I find that I was short-sided in my previous understanding. I've found that it wasn't that they weren't true friends. It's just that I didn't know what a friend was. Something, I think I finally understand now. And, like so many other things in this life, I am what's wrong with the equation.

A friend isn't supposed to be their for you. A friend isn't supposed to accept you for who or what you are. A friend isn't supposed to allow you to vent your frustrations or release your pain and sorrow. A friend is supposed to tell you your happiness is a lie or wrong and that you should find it elsewhere. A friend is supposed to tell you you're not mentally okay and that there's something wrong with you. A friend is supposed to set limits on what you can say or express. A friend is supposed to tell you that you being honest and open makes them feel bad and unhappy. A friend is supposed to tell you that they don't want to hear about your day, your interests, your dreams. A friend is the person you have to warp and contort yourself to make happy because no one else wants anything to do with you. A friend reminds you that deep down inside, you're worth more dead than you ever were alive.

"What am I?"

I am better in smaller doses. I am better faceless. I am better when I don't speak. I am better when I'm filling a void in someone else's life until they get what they were missing and can move on. I am unremarkable. I am undesirable. I am alone. I am in the dark. I am alone. I am where I've always been. I am alone. I am the only place I'm allowed to be. I am better in smaller doses.

Okay, so the last few weeks have been depressing as all hell. Fortunately for any readers, you'll be safe in knowing I'm not going to kill myself. At least not deliberately. For some reason I seem to have the capacity to contain all this sorrow and pain. Maybe because the self-hate runs just that deep. Either way, welcome to the empty lamb. And would you look at that. The worthless sacrifice. Seems fitting. But no, that's me projecting myself on this. I'm not emptylamb.


The vessel I fill with my love, my pain, my joy, my sorrow, my rage, my compassion, my mind, my soul, my all to sacrifice for that which resides beyond. I guess I lied. I am going to kill myself. But it's okay. It was always going to end that way. I've been trying so hard to figure this out but I already had the answer the whole time. It can't be the whole world that's wrong so it has to be me. I'm what's wrong. So I'm what must go.


Sky Williams 28MAY17

Medium:  iPhone Notes/Tweet

Context:  Corrections in Brackets


1 video a week or 1000 videos a week don't mean anything to the craft. Artists/creators tap into something beyond mere logic to spawn something from essentially nothing. It's like gathering heat from a flame except in this case there's no telling when that source will extinguish. Better or worse is inconsequential as this is a matter of things left unsaid, avenues left untried. So ask yourself, is what you do about what others perceive (to include your own perception) or about the message?


Can Sociopaths Be Suicidal?

There's no good reason to start these with "I want" but that always seems to be the go to. It's Valentine's Day. Usually the equates to nothing for me but now here I am. Thinking of someone. Thinking of someone who by all accounts doesn't want me. At least not in the same way I do them. Can you still have heartaches if you have no heart? Can sociopaths be suicidal?

Wow, call me the "one-pump chump" over here. I already let out the title and we haven't even gotten to the second paragraph. Maybe I'm just off my game more than I thought. Maybe I'm a bigger idiot than.... What? I thought? Such a waste of line space.

What's the update? That's what this is for after all. Didn't have one last week. Not for lack of trying... wait, no. Definitely for lack of trying. I had some stuff going on that was too important to create a post but not important enough to remember after the fact. That sounds fair and legitimate right? Nope. Okay.

It's "Valentine's Day." What does that mean to me? What does that mean to my life? Wasn't I trying to die not all that long ago? (Never stopped, still trying) But where is all this coming from is what I keep asking myself. Lie. I don't ask myself that. I ask what I feel as the world burns around me. The answer helps me gauge my mental state. Have to love that subconscious mind. I'm sick. I tried to save someone for the first time in a while. Didn't know where the impulse came from. Maybe the last remnants of him. Maybe the re-ignition of that old core directive. I'm fading out. I got blood on me. Had to reach through puke filled water to open a drain so the person wouldn't drown in their own vomit. I carried them to their room. I helped them stay alive and all I could think was, "are humans really just that weak?" No one needs me. Not really. I'm slowly losing it all and no one notices. That's the way I want it. But it's "Valentine's Day" and I want to do something special. I can't tell what's real anymore. Is this another mask or is it the only genuine left?

Can sociopaths be suicidal?



Medium:  iPhone Notes

Context:  Corrections in Parentheses


I forgot my name. I forgot my voice. I forgot how little I stop(p)ed caring. It was nice.


You'll Never Know How Badly You Make Me Want to Die

Last week was a rough week. A lot happened in the space of the nothing that transpired on top. I'd love to say it felt like I was floating but I'm afraid my feet are firmly planted. I'm stuck. I'm stuck trying to make heads or tails of what I've been presented. Things are "good." Many of my concerns have been alleviated in terms of necessities for living. It was honestly a bit touch and go there for longer than I would have preferred but so is the way. I have a friend. The one. Been a while since I've had one. Since I've had anyone to talk to really. I've recovered some semblance of my former creativity again. I'm writing again and even sparingly pick up the pencil and sketch a bit. Things aren't bad. Anyone notice the decrescendo?

I won't say I haven't felt this kind of sad or down before because I have. It's just that there's something else tangled in with it. This would be the paragraph that I'd take to give the flip of everything I listed previously right? Symmetry. Balance. But it's more than that. Not this paragraph no. The break that has formed. I've fallen into a place all too familiar. A place made familiar by the burst of content I produced prior to my last fall. Thank the internet! I have documented, my rise and fall--see upcoming tumblr throwbacks. It puts a lot into perspective. That sounds nice but really there isn't a lot. It's simple. It has always been simple but I seem to always find myself so easily swayed into forgetfulness. This world isn't for things like me. I will always be on the outside looking in. No one will join me. Commiserate with me. Save me. Kill me. Because even if there were one who tried, I'd never allow it. My pain is my burden. And I'll just have to take solace in knowing that eventually I'll absorb enough to get beyond this propensity for saving others. That eventually I'll get to die. That eventually I'll be able to kill myself for real.

What's so wrong with appreciating death? I keep asking myself that. I mention it's on my mind and immediately, conversations shift. What's so good about living? The potential for happiness? And if I were to die next year? Next month? Next week? Tomorrow? Today? Would the potential happiness alleviate the decades of pain and misery? What makes suicide so wrong? What makes it such a litmus test for the broken?

What am I living for? I can't seem to find a reasonable answer. Because he hasn't saved enough people? Because I'm still attached to this world in some way? Because I get off on the pain of living? Take your pick. Each as ludicrous as the last. I live because it's less of a hassle. Because I don't have the means to wipe myself from existence without some inevitable fallout. Not yet at least. I made the mistake of letting people in. I made the mistake of acquiring associations. An association.

A friend.

Everything is cyclic. Just like every friend before things seem to be going just the same way.

The means to survive but lacking substance. The drive to create but without feeling. A friend I can't confide in. Just like before and the time before that. It's me. I'm the commonality. The world's not broken. Just me. It was always me. And just as every time prior, if I can just accept that truth, I may find a way forward.

I love how much she makes me want to die. How it hurts to be with her. How alone I feel with her in my life. How I'm reminded time and again, and this time again, that happiness isn't for things like me.

I love her because she makes me want to die.

I love her because she reminds me that even at my best, I'm undesirable. How every smile I bring to her face bleeds me more as I sacrifice what little is left of myself to wear the facade. You're the only one smiling anymore. But that'll change. Peace will come in death. I can only hope.

My last hope.

I'll be set free in my death.


03MAR17 IV

Medium:  iPhone Notes

Context:  Corrections in Parentheses


Are we going to break the last vestige of this human shell? Awake the daemon. To accept death or sacrifice all that's left in the hope that there's enough left to revive. Been waiting so long, too long. A decision? Decide or die for real. It's not about what they want this time. It's not about what "you" want either. It's about; it's about time to find out what it's even about. Nothing more till then. After, will be after.