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.



Medium:  iPhone Notes

Context:  Corrections in Parentheses


I don't remember what year it is. Just that it's soon to not be today any longer. Tomorrow will be here and I'll have not moved. I'm still not moving. I'm still here as everything changes, vanishes, fades away. Where am I supposed to be? Supposed to go? When will I finally wake up and actively engage in this life the body floats through? The masses it interacts with? Perhaps that's the point of this place. The taste is what's left. The sight, touch, and smell were first. Never to grow up right, call me the third/forth. My name is Left.


Rough Days or the Desire to Drown

It's that time again. I've'nt been this consistent with updates in a long, long time. Maybe I'm circling the bottom. Must be something dramatic because I hate this keyboard. I kind of hate this laptop too. Fifteen inches but sans bezel. I miss my 17in. Sure it was cumbersome but at least it had a full-sized keyboard. Any surprisingly more USB ports. Why I've decided to waste lines on that I don't think I'll ever know. Lie. I know exactly why. I don't want to discuss what's really on my mind right now. It's been a rough day. And not just because I'm abusing contractions. Pull up a seat.

I'm abusing the crap out of these contractions. I'm also listening to a certain playlist while I plug away at the keys. (humble link -- Momentum) The point is that I'm on a time limit and haven't even gotten to the true point. Story of my life. Oh, surprise, I'm down. Maybe that'd be a better alias. Call me Down, I'll never be Up. Doesn't have the same appeal as my other but since there's likely only one person who'd get that reference I'll just let it die there. I get it. I really do. I need help.

So what's what? I find myself alone again. That's not new. I've been touching on that for like two weeks already. I want what I can't have. Sure. I want to believe that maybe there's some thing or some one who can fill this void in my life. Maybe I should go back to abandoning life. Was easier when death was a blessing. Wow, I miss my attachment to death. Maybe I should start drinking again. What is the point?! Get to the point! Right.

She doesn't want me. I still want her. It won't end well for me. I'm accepting that. But still feel like I'm drowning. Is there anything I want that I can actually have? Or is this it? Just one failure after the next, just barely getting by until my time finally runs out? Today was a rough day.

I've been isolated personally and now, today, professionally. This keeps happening. That means it's me right? Can't be everyone else if I'm the constant. Or so the saying goes. This playlist is really not meant for this kind of writing. Like I'm sloshing through. Can't see, can't think. Getting hit with nostalgia. Hard. Reminiscing. The good and the bad. Mostly the bad. Taints it all. Can't even cry. I told her about the hurt. Never told anyone about that. Maybe this is what I've been wanting for so long. Maybe she's what kills me. Directly or indirectly. Maybe she'll be what sets me free. Water's up to my eyes. Choking on this fake future I know I'll never have. Why'd I have to start dreaming again? Why can't I get passed this? Why can't I find a place I belong?

Why don't I just kill myself


Humanity's Divide

This is going to be a weird one. Figured I'd throw that out there to start since while "weird" isn't necessarily an uncommon occurrence for these particular posts, this one is maybe a bit more out there. That out of the way, here we go.

I'm a people watcher. Of sorts. Or perhaps it would be be more accurate to say I'm an equal opportunity observer. Of sorts. I find myself lingering on the world, or aspects of, around me whenever my surroundings are less than stationary. I constantly find my gaze being drawn to anything that obstructs the general flow of my space. What I mean by "my space" however is more or less the area in which my senses are able to perceive. Of course I include all senses in that because the limits of one or two are trivial compared to what can be derived once supplemented by the full contingent. Of course. So what does that matter? Right? What does that have to do with anything? Nothing more than an observation of humanity. Of human beings. Of Interactions specifically. And what I found will shock you. Not really though. Probably. We'll see. Well, you'll see. Yeah.

I'm pretty crap when it comes to dealing with people. Obviously I can do it. I'm just shy of a sociopath so figuring out the basic intricacies of human interaction was something I made a priority. If only to avoid the awkward stares and questions that come along with the apparent lack of feeling. But here I am in my ripe old age rethinking things. Or perhaps it's more accurate to say I'm revisiting an idea I once had as a teenager. A premise. How much of human interaction is actual connection and how much is luck?

In all my time and accounting for every person I've ever had contact with, I'm come to realize just how much has been "Lost in Translation" over the years. In hindsight of course. This is from my perspective, so obviously there is some skew but then to draw back to the introduction of my proclivities, I began to look outward. It's like with vision. People use their personal experiences to fill in the blanks. It makes me wonder just how, if at all, human beings connect. It makes war sensical. The idea of peace laughable. It leaves me wondering if anyone is ever truly listening. It makes me wonder what kind of people do hear and comprehend. What it takes to get to that point with someone. Whether a person like that is truly human or not. Or maybe whether I'm just the outlier. Maybe there are more like me than I give credit. Perhaps we're all sociopaths, one step behind.

Is this a problem? No more than any other. The world continues to turn regardless so it may very well not matter until doomsday weapons become the norm. May not even by then. Time will tell. Always does. Yeah, this one's a weird one.


What I Should Have Sent

Origin Date:  19JAN17

Medium:  Email (Draft)


I wasn't expecting to be doing this. In fact if I was completely honest with myself, I thought I'd gotten to a point. No. Sorry. I thought that things had gotten to a point where maybe. No. Sorry once more. I mean to say, a point where things absolutely had gotten to a point far past the point of no return. I've failed at a lot of things in my life. Even more things after I left New York those four years ago. I want to make jokes. I want to say how it's "kinda funny" that its been five years since we spoke. Something, anything to break the awkward of writing this but it wouldn't help. I don't think anything would help. And even if there were anything as far as hope would be concerned; hope for what? What am I hoping for? I'm still depressed. Surprise. I still feel like a burden to everyone. Most especially the people I care for. Especially to you but here I am. Doing something I feel to the fiber of my being to be the worst thing I could do. But I feel like garbage and I'm all alone. Not that I haven't these past few years/decades but I can't shake the fact that when you were in my life, at least there was some semblance of light in the dark. I wanted so badly to see you smile. To see you happy because you brought me the joy of living. The desire to keep going. Because I could commiserate with you. Because I never felt like I had to be "on" with you. I could just be myself and you were willing to accept that. I'm so sorry. It's too little, too late but I really hope you can believe me when I say it was for you. At least that's what I've told myself all these years. It was all for you. I cut myself off from the bright parts of my life so as to not darken them any further. I didn't then and even now still regret that I'm at this point but I miss you so much. I truly do. At what feels like another end of another pitiful life I've come to lead, I feel so much more empty and am clinging to the only things. No. The only person I felt good about. I remember the good. I remember the bad. I remember feeling like trash when I was with you. I remember the anger I felt after the birthday party at the cold winter night. I saw the ugly that was me. I wanted to be with you in a way you didn't. I resented the fact that there couldn't be more but at the same time I knew that feeling was misplaced. That's the essence of what made me realize I needed to leave. I had to go away from you. From all of you. My dearest friends. My family. No. The ones who meant more to me than family. I'm so messed up. I'm so sorry. I don't know why I'm writing this. Maybe it'll help because I know now for sure that I'm more broken than I've ever been. I can string together words anymore. I can't see the future anymore. I really just feel like I'm anything else than anything I thought I was. Anything I ever wanted to be. I'm just in such a dark place and I think this is my reaching out. I miss you. And I always avoided ever being this honest with you. I felt scared. Scared that the only person I felt free with would reject me. I felt like a tool being used by everyone else for everything else but you were different. I miss the marina. I still listen to the CD. I still and will always feel like I left a piece of my heart with you. I'm just so sorry that I'm just so dumb. So, broken. Honestly, I've contemplated any number of different excuses over the years that I could attempt to contact you with. But here I am. At my highest low. A shell. I miss you. I loved what you were to me. To the me that could bring you any sort of happiness if there ever was such a me. I don't know that you could be anything to me now. Because even after writing all this. Even after every word, you'll never see this. I'll never send this in earnest. I want you to be well. I want to believe you're doing great things and found happiness and have someone who makes you feel great and see within you that bright glow of excellence you exude. You were perfection to me. Completely unattainable. I wanted to remark how at least there's one joke in this mess but I realize that at best you wouldn't get it and at worst you'd take it the wrong way. I've fallen so out of touch that I don't know anymore. This is my world of regret. Please be well. Please be at peace. You deserve happiness. I'll never stop believing that. Sorry, I couldn't even just end with the joke.


Can't Seem to Stop Trying to Kill Myself

It's that time again gents. Here I am bearing all manner of gifts but only for the ones that seek me out. Guess I'm pretty selfish like that. Maybe instead of "What's Up" it should be "Selfish." Too bad it just doesn't quite have the same ring to it. So what's new right? That's what this is. I'm pretty low. Might even have to change my name. Nothing really new there. But just sending it out. Oh, wait. My bad. "The Secret" is that what I put out is what I will get back. Crap I must be putting out disgust and hatred. Maybe that's why I'm so low. Maybe that's why I keep making these self-destructive decisions again and again. Or maybe I'm just crazy. Well, definitely I'm crazy but yeah. Maybe in more ways than the one.

I'm just so tired again. Or maybe not again. Maybe I just never felt rested and have just gotten accustomed to the weight. The burden. Why can't I shake the fire and brimstone future whenever I gaze outward? Why am I doing this now? Putting this out here now? Oh, yeah. Time capsule. This is my suicide letter. This whole blog. I shouldn't be so presumptuous. I'd have to succeed at something I've dreamt about first before I could start acting as though I know anything. This is so depressing. Why do I even bother? Five more years. Let's see how it all goes.

Thanks for listening. To the voice in yourself that read these words. Take care. Go with peace and love and happiness and kindness and the desire to live. Sure, the desire to live. Alright secret, hit me back all kinds of 180. Late...


You Know the Easiest Way To Tell You're In a Simulation?

Really had to debate this one. Rolling around my head I keep throwing back and forth the premise of what this was going to be. Whether it be a "Mainstay" or a "2.0." Obviously we're diving into a lot of opinion/perception but the subject matter is clearly, next plateau. You can see from the category though where the coin eventually landed. SO, without further adieu, here we go.

You know the easiest way to tell you're in a simulation? It gets harder to tell. Lately, and I use that word loosely, more and more people have been subscribing to the idea that we all may in fact be in a "simulation." Honestly, whether we are or aren't, in the long run it likely wouldn't matter unless said simulation was for some sort of nefarious reasoning. Even then though, it likely wouldn't affect the world we've come to know in the slightest. At least not in a perceivable way anyway. So sure we can just jump to the conclusion that if it doesn't matter there's no point to think about it but for us neurotic types... oh boy. "Hold my beer."

So let's look at what I see and see how it stacks up. The point is that if I'm right, these words will never see the light of day. And if I'm wrong, these words will gain traction in some way shape or form since they'll only serve to reinforce the original premise. Of course there's the very real possibility of the reverse but why jump even further down rabbit holes? Where were we? Oh, right. "It's harder to tell."

The easiest way to tell you're in a simulation is to look for the edges. Find the ends and you'll find a world too small for the magnitude of realistic proportions. Not to go full "Matrix" but deja vu much? When everything seems to keep popping up almost as if the world feels smaller... yeah, it probably is. You know the best public announcement that's come out as of late? The great AI debate. Bots, bots, bots. It's perfect really. Rogue AI, always watching, always listening and then of course you'll see things you're casually talking about or admiring everywhere you look. It's just a ploy by advertisers using every underhanded trick in the book to make the most in this seemingly never ending age of consumerism right? OR it's just enough to make the limitations, the edges of the "world," look just that much further away.

Alright, that was my piece in all this. Just an idea I was throwing around because I refused to do any actual work on my movie pitch idea. That and as of the first of January my notifications have been going crazy. So many bots seemed to all go online at once. Not that I don't appreciate a follow... you know what? Scratch that. I definitely don't appreciate the follow or all the junk mail. And that's a tangent for somewhere else. Anyway, finding the reference links for this is going to suuuuck. And with that one elongated word I guess I'll have to change the category. Anyway, guess a little push to the right then for this baby.

Hope you enjoyed the read, have a good one!


03MAR17 II

Medium:  iPhone Notes

Context:  Corrected in Parentheses


Still can't seem to feel anything. Looking at the surrounding it takes such extremes to pursue thoughts the(that) can be connected with. Sad. Depressing. Dark. Murky. Nothing. Is this indifference? Is this the ID? The surface is deeper when left autonomous. So gen(then) perhaps it's all fake. Perhaps it's the turth that I've been broken away from for so long. I feel, nothing. Minor annoyance. What does the other exist for? How do we fix (it) if there is anything (t)hat such could even apply? Burn. Drown. Ghastly ways swirl as we sink. As I sink. Alone together alone. Still nothing for me. Diatribes from him. It? Show we the way.


Just Like That

Turns out I'm pretty trash still. Every time I use that name I feel nauseous. That won't make much sense but it's not as though that matters. Wednesdays are for me. Everything else can be for the world. Just at least let me keep this.

I'm writing here because if I'm being honest, it's not as though anyone would read this. And, if anyone were actually to do so, it's not as though it'd be anyone who'd understand just what any of it means. I write here because I find myself in a position where I no longer feel free to speak. I'm back to a world without friends.

Wow, that was the hardest sentence I've had to complete in a pretty long time. I guess coming to realizations'll do that to you. Last week, "I met someone." This week I realized how naive I was. Today really. Pretty clear I'm insane since I keep making the same mistakes over and over again. Maybe next time I won't delude myself into thinking it something more by calling it "hope."

"I met someone." What a fool I was and still am. The person I met was what I was looking for, searching for, begging for even, for just so many years. A decade plus! Someone who didn't need me, didn't need my help, didn't need my support. Someone who would be my confidant. Someone I could be truly free with. Someone I could share my all with. Someone I could love? I guess it would always have to go to that if I'm doing that level of sharing. Of course this person can give me all that except the last. A person who doesn't need me, but wants me. Sharing their life. Duly noted brain. Let's see if we can get it right next time.

I haven't felt this low in a while. It's slightly above my lowest which such be evident by the fact that I'm still creating but definitely not anywhere near as happy as I once was. Just last week. This may just be the worst of it. Here's hoping. Probably not going to help that I'm having wicked flashbacks of the last time I was in this situation. Probably definitely. Next year's going to be a stacked week of updates. That'll make more sense next week.

I don't feel like sharing with this person anymore. I don't feel like letting them in any further because I'll just get more and more attached. Attached and desiring a future they've already debunked. I'm a pretty trash friend. What do you know? Full circle.