Total Pageviews

Never Backpack through Cuba with Toucan Sam.

I dreamed about Allison again last night. I haven't gone a night without one of them in almost a year now and it's really strange. During the dream all those feelings are still there. The worst depression that I've felt awake is nothing compared to that which I experience in a not so peaceful slumber. It's so intense, it makes me want to just lay down and die. That's the only time I get suicidal anymore. When I'm asleep and dreaming of her. When I wake up, though, none of those feelings stay with me. Well, not too long anyway. I don't know what any of that means.

On top of that I also dreamed about Lisa. Then, the neighbors dogs woke me up at three in the morning and I couldn't go back to sleep. I just lay there and thought about the girls I now only see when I close my eyes. It's a hard sensation to describe. Even now, I have no desire to ever be near them again, much less as close as we once were. Then why is it so different in the dream?

At work today I had nothing to do. This gave me hours to just kinda sit back and let my mind wander. My MP3 player stopped on the song "Conversation" by Motion City Soundtrack. It's a beautiful, slow song that has more than just a hint of sadness to it. It was the only thing I listened to for over an hour. I let myself get caught up in the way it made me feel, instead of letting it run its course before moving on. I just reveled in it. There's a very big part of me that enjoys a gentle melancholy.

I thought about how I really feel about being single. For the most part I'm OK with it, but sometimes I miss having someone more than anything. It's on those weekend nights that I'm just laying in bed watching TV, alone. I miss having someone there next to me. I miss the embraces. Conversations. Making out and more. Just all those little things that seem so insignificant when you're in a relationship. The things that you take for granted. They seem like gold when you face an empty bed every night.

I've also been in kind of a weird mood since yesterday. A day with my family tends to do that. I also got my first rejection regarding my book. It honestly didn't affect me the way I thought it would, which is a very good thing. If I couldn't handle it I should really just give up now. I'm going to print it up and hang it in my cubicle. Give myself a little motivation. I don't know how to end this, as I'm just rambling, so I guess I'll just


I'm sitting in my car smoking a cigarette with a shaky hand as I wait for the light to change. The heater's busted. That, mixed with a temperature of 32 degrees, makes for a very long drive home. The cold cuts through my jeans and flesh, until it finds the bone. It stays there. I decide that the smoke isn't worth it, and flick it out the window before rolling it up.

The radio is turned up loud, and it almost drowns out the voices in my head. Hollywood Undead has been making me feel enraged lately, so I switch it out with the quieter angst of Brand New. My teeth chatter as I let the weight of their lyrics sink in. It makes me hope that some day my words can mean as much to someone else, as theirs do to me.

This makes me wonder why I started writing to begin with. It started out with an image in my head when I was seventeen. I was staring in the mirror, but the face looking back at me was much, much younger. It looked at me with a look of disgust at what I had let myself grow into. That birthed the song "A Time of Innocence". It was simply me wanting to get back to that point where the world was still wide open, and I was still pure. Every time I look in the mirror I still see the little boy with the same expression, and Ihope that some day I can make him proud.

I started letting people read it, and they all gave me positive feedback. This in turn fueled my ego, and I was filled with the desire to get more of those accolades. I ended up pouring more and more of myself out onto the page, which stirred up unexpected emotional responses. I realized then what an impact you can have on someone using just your words.

I haven't learned much during my short time on this planet, but I have discovered one undeniable truth. If you take nothing from anything you've read here, please consider this. Words can save your life. They are the only reason I am still alive today. Whether they came from song lyrics, a book, movie quotes, or just an encouraging sentiment from a loved one. All of these things can help to heal your wounds, because they make you realize that, no matter what, you're not alone in this world. Words bind us. They connect us. I think it's important to read, which is something not nearly enough people do nowadays. Listen to new music. Actually listen to it and take in the lyrics. Watch movies that make you think. Form your own opinions, and then express them. One of the most important things we can do in this world is write. Even if it's stupid little blogs that hardly anyone will read. At least you're getting the negative out in a cathartic way.

One of the biggest fears I have in this life is to be completely forgotten. I have felt it many times on a smaller level, and it really hurts. None of us are going to be here forever. I want to leave something behind. I want to be remembered for something, even if it is just a few words bled out onto a page.

Oh, that? It’s not a death rattle. There’s just something in his throat.

I was feeling kind of low at work today. It must have been obvious because a coworker aproached me and put her hand on my shoulder. She invited me to her church, and gave me a book about God. Now, I really like this woman, but I HATE when people do this. I've got a box of books like the one she gave me that I've recieved from people. I'm not religious. I don't even really know what it is that I believe in, if anything. I do, however, think that if there is a God, he stopped giving a shit a long time ago. I just don't find the solace in that outlet that other people do, and I don't like it being suggested that I should.

Look, I know I have issues. I've been aware of that for a long time now. I spend most of my days either constantly pissed off, horribly depressed, or an unhealthy combination of the two. I generally like my co-workers, and I can only imagine how I look from the outside. To tell you the truth, even I don't know who I'm going to be that day when I wake up. None of my actions are done in hopes of getting attention. It's not a cry for help. It's just me trying to keep control, and hold myself together. I don't like being the subject of their sympathy and intentions, even though they are good. Most of all I hate the pity. I don't like being the sad little boy in the corner. I'm taking medications to help keep me balanced, but all it does it turn the volume down slightly. The old habits are still there. The desires are still prevalent.

I'm just tired. Tired of whining, complaining, and bitching. I have a lot of time during the day to think. Probably too much. I'll come up with ideas to write about, things that need to be done, just how to get myself back together in general. Then my focus shifts to more negative subjects, and then stay there. By the time I get home I'm too to mentally exhausted and emotionally beat down to put my positive plans into action. Instead, I become lethargic, laying down to die and letting my future slip past me, one night at a time. I need to fix this. I'm going to rebuild the walls, and trim the excess. There are too many distractions.

It's with these thoughts in mind that I have decided to cancel my myspace account in a couple of days. I don't want to put myself out there anymore. At least, not until I am fully satisfied with what I have to display. I will keep writing. The blog will continue, just through another outlet that's meant for personal use. Some thoughts should remain secret. Some journeys have to be taken alone. I will also keep working on all the other projects, and make something out of them. I still have my phone and gmail account if you need to get a hold of me. Other than that, I really don't know what to tell you. I do wanna thank those that have kept up with this blog. It is greatly appreciated. This isn't the end, though. The best has yet to come.

Just some things to think about.

It's just so easy to want to give up sometimes. To succumb to the appathy and self pity until it hollows you out, leaving only an empty shell in its wake. As a society, we become more selfish and self absorbed every day. It blows my mind how some people can float through life without a conscience. How they can hurt people so deeply and not feel remorse, not feel anything at all really, because they weren't directly affected.

Have we become so jaded that the only way to feel good about ourselves is to make everyone around us as miserable as we are? Or is it out of self preservation? You know, burn them before they burn us? Or is something more malicious behind our actions? All I know is that we are losing our ability to be empathetic, and , along with that, our humanity all together.

Personally, I'd like to know when I became so nihilistic. Letting things go has always been hard for me. I'm a pack rat when it comes to emotional baggage. But its difficult to let wounds heal when they're not given a chance to. When all the mistakes and pain of your recent and distant past are constantly in your face, the wounds stay open. They constantly bleed. How do you find hope in a broken world? I don't know. I guess that's what we created religion for.

Do you ever feel like you're a prisoner in your own head? Sometimes, I'd like to live just one day as someone else. I want to know about how their thought process works. Am I alone with all these notions? Do other people think the same way I do? On some level they have to. I just find it difficult to believe that we're as unique and special as we delude ourselves into believing.

Maybe insomnia’s not so bad, after all.

I'm sitting on a beach. It feels familiar, though I've never been here before. I can hear sea gulls off in the distance as the waves come rushing past my feet. It's such a beautiful day, I can't believe there's no one out here. I watch a sailboat off in the distance, when a little girl comes running up to me. She is beautiful, with long blonde hair and an enchanting smile. I ask her what her name is, and she says that she hasn't been given one yet. Then she asks me to play with her. I look around, find no one, and ask her where her parents are. The smile turns to a heartbreaking frown. Tears flow down her face when she asks, "You mean you've forgotten about me already, Daddy?" She then starts to fade until there's nothing but her foot prints in the sand. I close my eyes, trying to get the visual out of my head.

When I open them again, I'm under a sea of blankets and sheets. I've been in this room many times, yet it feels alien. The only sounds come from the ceiling fan, my heartbeat, and the rythym of her breathing. I look over at her, and I don't feel what I thought I would. I'm filled with the overwhelming desire to leave. Her dark hair falls over her pale face, illuminated by moonlight. I reach out to touch her, but as soon as I do, her face begins to crack. Then her entire body shatters. I recoil backwards, and fall off the bed. I close my eyes…

I land in the chair of a waiting room. I'm not alone, but I might as well be. She's reading a magazine, acting bored, like she's just ready to get this over with. I try to think of something to say, but decide against it. Conversation will only make things worse, like usual. Christ, I'd like to wake up now. Finally, my name is called back and she offers no words of encouragement. Barely looks up from the magazine. The lights in the examining rooms are harsh and hurt my eyes. The doctor sits me down and checks me out. She confirms what I already knew and feared. The full weight and severity of it all hits me, and I break down. She sits down next to me, and puts an arm around me. Her voice is soothing as she tells me that it's all going to be ok. I cry harder when I realize that she's the only person that's going to be doing this. A big part of me dies right there. Soon it will rot and decay, poisoning everything until acid is pumped through my veins. I regain my composure, step into the hall, and walk up to the door that leads back into the waiting room. I close my eyes, scared to face her, and the new future that I have carved out for myself.

I open my eyes to find myself someplace new, in front of a door I know all too well. It's slightly ajar, and I can hear the movement and tiny whines of protest. God, haven't I gone back to this enough? Just let it stop. But I know the dream won't end until I cross the threshold. My palms sweat as I place my hand on the doorknob. The noises within are louder now, and I feel nauseous. I close my eyes as I push the door open, this time with no intent on opening them again.

Behind the veil

Lately, it doesn't feel like anything is real. Like I'm just drifting through a waking dream. A fog clouds and distorts everything around me. I'm scared to death of what I'll see once the veil has finally been lifted. I had that dream again last night. It left me with that ache, a painful longing in the pit of my stomach that stayed with me until long after I fell back to sleep. When I awoke again I just felt numb. I wish I had someone I could call, because I really don't want to be by myself tonight. The television just intensifies the loneliness, instead of diminishing it. The few, brief conversations I have are forgotten immediately after they are over. Like they never happened.

It feels as if I'm just sorting through the remnants of a life that has long since been abandoned. Like putting together a puzzle that's missing half the pieces. You focus more on the holes, instead of the picture itself. I feel invisible. It's getting to where I can't even remember what things were like before, when they were different. When I was different. All I feel is the painful loss of them, with no way to alleviate it. Sometimes, I would love more than anything to go back, but I don't even know what I have to go back to. I should move forward, but the same problem presents itself. I just want to feel something, anything, other than what I have lately.

Read this and take it to heart. It just might save you one day.

Relationships are strange things. For some reason, I always seem to be the go-to guy for advice regarding them. Which, considering my track record, is really quite funny. I've had my heart broken many times, and broken a few myself. Luckily, the pain doesn't have to be in vain. These are the lessons I have gained, along with my scars. Picture relationships as a fresh sheet of ice over a frozen pond, fragile yet beautiful.

In the beginning, the surface of the ice is perfect, with no scratches or cracks marring the surface. This is when everything is exciting and new, as you are just getting to know each other. You might get them gifts, give compliments readily, and always try to let them see you when you are at your best. This becomes problematic, because they don't get to know you completely, as you truly are. This brings us to phase two.

The surface is no longer shiny, with nicks and scuffs littering the surface. This occurs as you really get to know each other, which causes confrontation. You start noticing little things you don't like, how they squeeze the toothpaste, for instance. Things like this may seem innocuous, but can add up to tension or resentment. During this time you may have arguments more often, big or small. This can be good for you, as long as they are handled maturely. Arguments are when you learn the most about each other, and can make you stronger as a result. The key to this happening is to keep it from getting personal. Stick to the issue at hand, without attacking the other person or bringing up past transgressions.

Over time the romance will die out,the magic will fade, and the sex may become boring, all of this being replaced with routine and familiarity. You have put down your guard, let them in, and have gotten to know each other completely. You are now comfortable. Content. Ask yourself this question. Why do we date? Seriously? It is to find someone with whom we can be comfortable and content. Unfortunately, human beings don't handle either very well. Once we obtain these goal, we must sabotage them as quickly as possible. We never appreciate the great things in our possesion.

You might then meet someone, and it'll start out innocently enough. Smiles, compliments, and flirting. IT makes you feel good and attractive, because you forgot what it's like to be pursued. Now you start to question things about your relationship. This is healthy, because questioning things is the only way to determine how you feel about your partner. But once you decide to try out this new person, you can never go back. What's ironic, is that the reason you like this other person so much is because it's exciting and new. That's exactly how it started with the relationship you're cheating on. How do you think things with this new person will end up? The same: comfortable and content. This is why cheating is stupid.

So, now the deed has been done, your partner knows, and everything is screwed up. A massive crack has formed in the ice. (thought I forgot about the metaphor didn't you) The crack splinters into a fork. You can forgive and work it out, or you can walk away. Forgiveness is crucial in a relationship. Not only to forgive the other person, but yourself as well. You can get past cheating, but it's going to take a lot of work. But, once you forgive the other person for it, you relinquish the right to ever bring it up again. Especially in anger. IF you can't do that, walk away.

While it's important to fight for the relationship, it's just as much so to know when to call it quits. (I'm still not sure which one is harder) If you don't get out in time, the ice will shatter, thrusting you into the frigid waters below. It's so incredibly easy to wallow in this pain until you drown in it. This WILL kill you if you let it. Grieving the end is fine, because you did lose something. Just do it in a healthy time and fashion. Also, I spoke earlier about the importance of forgiveness, but sometimes an act is so aggregious that it is unforgivable. Sometimes, not often but sometimes, someone does something so heinous that they can only be met with pure, unadulturated hatred. Only two people in my life have earned that right, and I don't think that's going to change.

That's what I've learned about how things can go. Now, here's some gems, while trying to stay away from cliches, on how to avoid this from happening. Always keep the romance going. This is not impossible, it's not even hard. You just have to stop being lazy and assume it's not needed. Be considerate of the other person. Take your emotions out of arguments. Remember all the reasons you fell for each other in the first place, not the things you don't like. Don't take each other for granted, because losing them is ALWAYS a possibility. And, most importantly, if you find someone that loves you, is caring, and treats you well...don't fuck it up. Class dismissed.

Fighting so hard for that one step forward, just to take ten back

I had this whole speech planned out about what's been going through my head, and why I've been so down lately. Now that I'm sitting here, though, I don't feel much like talking. So, fuck it. Never mind.

Let’s get political

Ok, as you should all be aware, today is election day. I have decided to exercise my American right, and not vote. This enraged my step mother, who said that if I didn't vote, I didn't get to have a right to complain over the next four years. Yeah, well, a year ago, Doritos came out with several new flavors of chips, and they let the customers vote on which one they liked the best. The winner would become a permanent staple in their catalouge. I did not vote on any of them. Not once. But if I try the chip that made the cut, and don't like it, does that mean I can't voice my opinion saying so? Of course not. Why? Because her point is asinine.

Now, when it comes to voting in this year's election, I have several reasons why I have opted out. People tend to forget about what the candidates truly are: politicians. Politicians lie, and politicians don't give a fuck about you, or anyone you care about. Half of them are in the pockets of corporations and look out for their interest, not the common man's. I digress. Most of the campaign is spent double talking, pandering to whatever group they are speaking to, and endless waves of commercials saying how bad the other one is. As a result, neither one of them end of looking all that great. And I still have yet to hear them say up front what it is they hope to accomplish, and how they are going to do so.

Which brings me to the voters themselves. Most of them are ignorant, and refuse to do the neccesary research to see what the candidate's actual positions are. Instead, they just vote strictly for the reason that one's a black guy, or the other one for being a war vet that won't take away their guns and has a vice president who is "just a regular hockey mom just like you, don't you know". You're an idiot, and shouldn't vote, but it's your right, just like it's mine not to.

People have told me that it's my generation who will someday inherit to the world. I always respond with, "who says we want it"? Seriously, the world is fucked up. And you know what? I blame our parents and grandparents. They lived in the sixties and seventies, and got to have all the fun. Theirs was a generation of sex, drugs, and rock and roll. What did that leave us with? Stds, anti-depressants, and Cold Play. Their body chemistry was so messed up from all the stuff that they took, they needed to take pharmeceuticals just to balance out. That means we've been junkies since the womb, and need even more prescriptions just to function. We've all got ADD because TV commercials train our brains to only take information in thirty second increments. That explains why this blog has gotten away from me. I just don't think it's fair that we're dealing with the problems that are merely reprecussions of their free, happy-go-lucky lifestyles. We need to put them all in sub-par homes out of retaliation. Now, if possible.

Anyway, I'm not unpatriotic. I do love this country. The ideas on which it was built are some of the most noble in the existence of human history. But over time we have strayed away from that. It's incredibly naïve to think that just one man can change all of everything. One man can't change the world. In the last 25 years have any of the presidents been able to make that claim? Not that I can think of, and I'll tell you why. The process of checks and balances is our greatest asset/detriment. While they do stop just one man from making too many drastic decisions that will ruin our country, theyalso stop him from doing good if the other branches don't agree.

These are all just my opinions. I don't claim to be the smartest person in the world, this could all be horribly wrong, but it's how I see things. You're more than welcome to disagree. If you do, message me and we'll debate about it. However, if you only get your information from FOX news, all your points are automatically negated. Furthermore, none of you who enjoy the music of Cold Play deserve to have eardrums.

Vicarious Self Reflection-this one is important

Some days are better than others. In your heart you know that things are going ok. Not great, not necessarily good, but ok. Considering all that's happened, ok is a blessing, and you're thankful for it. But sometimes a random memory will pop into your head and it makes you sad. Just a little. You become so overwhelmed with the need to talk to her that you pick up your phone and start to text. Luckily, you stop yourself before you do anything rash and unwanted.

You start thinking about how the threads of a relationship can fray, tear, and over time you can't even tell where the seam once was. You question how many times a bridge can be burned and rebuilt before you run out of tools and strength to fix it one final time.

You think about all the girls you have loved, and the ones you only thought you did. You like to believe you took lessons from all of them that help you become a better person. You hope that they are doing ok, and that they look back on the time spent with you with more fond memories than regrets. You wonder if any of them wished things worked out between you. Especially the last one.

You wish you could talk to someone about all of this, but when you tell people how you think and feel, they look at you in that way you hate. You used to think that it was an expression of concern, but now you realize it's more out of fear. They've seen what happens when you let yourself go, and they can't go through that again. No pressure, right? Still, this leads to other memories.

When you got to the hospital, they took your shoelaces and belt as a precaution. So, you walk funny because everything is falling off. Your mom shakes as you answer questions, gives you a hug, and then you're all alone. You're 22, but you feel like a small child. In your wing people scream and wander around aimlessly. In bed you cover your head with a thin pillow trying in vain to block out the noises, all while praying to god that the sleeping pills kick in soon.

Three times a day they march you to the kitchen and feed you what they pass off as food. You choke it down and wonder how much it's costing you. There's nothing to do but smoke and talk, so you add a fresh layer of cancer to your lungs and exhaust all your stories. Your mom visits you with worry etched on her face, and tears in her eyes. When your dad comes to see you, he acts uncomfortable and just makes fun of the patients, not realizing that you're part of that freakshow.

During one group sessiong they play music that wouldn't get anyone too excited. You get to hear Blue October, which is a treasure. The counselor tells you to draw a picture of your family, and you do so without really thinking. She points out that you have excluded yourself in your pic. She points out that this says a lot about your personality, and what you think about yourself. Group ends before she can elaborate.

Eventually, you make enough progress to be released with new prescriptions and well wishes.
Once you are back in the real world, you become worse than before.

It takes months but you slowly, painfully crawl your way out of hell. You don't make it out unscathed, but you did make it out. That's what matters. For the first time in over a year, the sun hits your face. It warms you from the inside out. Moments like this are so rare in life that you want to enjoy it before it fades.

You make yourself a promise that you will never go through this again. You will never put up with what you have from people in the past. And you won't forget the most important thing you have learned so far...what it feels like to be alive. And, just like that, the melancholy feeling that started this whole train of thought has all but vanished.


Fuck the past. It's never up to any good. I've spent so much time wrapped up in it lately i've wasted the last six months of my life agonizing and self destructing over someone that had long since moved on, and ceased to care. This breakup really hit hard. I loved her a lot. More than anyone else I'd ever known. Every day i'd just sit there and think that if she'd just take me back, i'd do anything for her. But even if we had reconciled the relationship, too much time had passed. We would no longer have known each other, if we ever did to begin with. I just clung to a memory that was seen through extremely rose colored glasses, not coming close to what it was really like. Every time i'd look back on it, there were more things i didn't miss than things i did. So why did it take me down the way it did? I have a theory.

When you get close to someone, you give a piece of yourself to them. The stronger the bond, the more of yourself you give. Then, when that person is suddenly not in your life anymore, you're still missing that piece. I had given her the biggest piece that i ever had before, and when it was gone, i just couldn't deal with it. She was a big part of my life as well. 90% of my time was spent with her, and when she was gone, all that time was spent alone. That's when I started to slip, and i never stopped falling.

I remember when we first started out, she had all these reasons that our relationship wouldn't work, and she stuck by them. Nothing will work if you go into it expecting it to fail. Recently we tried to be friends, and it was met with the same negative approach. This, plus my emotional instability gave us a volatile concoction. Thus was the status quo of our relationship.

I see now that we're really not right for each other, and that it's for the best. As much as that truth sucks, it's time to accept it. I don't hold anything against her. I wasn't perfect either. I just hope that she finds what she's looking for, and I truly want her to be happy. I just can't dedicate any more time and energy into trying to make that happen.


The walls of my apartment get smaller. Cue the tunnel vision. Add in the shallow breathing, the racing thoughts, all the ingredients for a decent breakdown. This has become my drug. Toe the line. Look over the edge. Smile sincerely.

I'm back on solid ground, now. Tears stream down my face. I think of her, and then push the memory of her face deep down inside. Deal with it later. You've gotta get past this. Lie to yourself if you have to. With a shaky hand i grab my bottle of pills, and take the recomended amount, nothing more. I close my eyes and wait for it to pass. My apartment is a disaster, and it matches how i feel on the inside. There's gotta be a better way.

Sometimes i feel like the answer is right there, has been all along, but i just can't seem to grab it. Maybe the truth is that i really don't want to, as i've become accustomed to this. I just wanna get over her. But seeing her every day the wounds reopens anew. I don't wanna hurt anymore. I curl into a ball, grit my teeth, and pray that the coming storm is short.

Bittersweet Memories

I saw your picture the other day,
and with a flash,
it brought back memories of the past.
That stirred up these old feelings,
like the ashes of a fire long burnt out.
I'd take all the pain I caused you,
back if I could.
That way you'd be reminded that,
some times were good.
Cuz I'll always remember...
Chorus 1:
Bowling for soup's autograph,
the beautiful sound of your laugh.
Aqua teen, cherry cokes,
how you'd smile at all my stupid jokes.
Your back seat, the warped tour.
Feelin things I've never felt before.
End Chorus 1:
Years have come and gone,
I'm reminded of my regrets.
A flash flood of memories,
I wish I could forget...
Chorus 2:
Long drives, gettin stoned,
how that night I slept alone.
The lake house, makin love,
doin things I wasn't too proud of.
That note left on my truck,
bein pushed to the brink of givin up.
End Chorus 2:
And the only way you'll,
ever hear me say,
I'm sorry to you,
Is through the radio.
But you deserve to hear it,
face to face.
So i can see your distaste,
and you can tell me how much i've changed,
i've changed.Now I only remember...
Chorus 3:
Everclear, broken hearts,
the pain I felt when we fell apart.
Our blue hair, benegan's,
bein told that we could still be friends.
Turner falls, eightball cake,
findin out all your feelins had been fake.
End Chorus 3:
End song.

Deja Vu

All the times you helped me up,
just to fall down a peg or two.
We take the blows we're dealt,
praying just to make it through.
Now we lay in the field,
under a blanket made of stars.
The fight it left us wounded,
with a whole lifetime full of scars.
Another day another dollar,
I'll have to borrow,
from my parents,
aunt and friends.
And it' hard,
to look them in the eyes.
I feel weak,
and just a little despised.
Chorus 1x
I've got my family,
to fall back on.
And they'll be there long,
after you have gone.
So just live your life,
do what you've got to do.
Soon I'll be a stranger,
nothing more than de ja vu.
The new day comes with burdens,
sometimes i stumble from the weight.
And I will nearly beat myself to death,
with the memories of past mistakes.
Just know that i'll make it through,
and that I'll be all right.
Even if you aren't around,
I'll never give up the fight.
Chorus 1x:
End song:


It all kicks off with a trigger...
No matter how small, it may seem,
So innocous.
My blood it boils, my heart,
turns into dust.
And here i am again...
These thoughts in my head,
eating me from within.
Cuz the last six months have left me,
spent and used up,cold and wounded.
Been defeated, faith's depleted.
I've never felt this scared.
I see it all now,
I never mattered,
and you never cared.
I just wanna feel acknowledged,
to be accepted.
I don't wanna regret,
all this time i have invested.
So this is what it's all come down to.
Me, hittin rock bottom and admitting i'm through,
with the promises i couldn't keep,
that equal the number of nights i stay up and weep.
Just trying to cry myself to sleep.
Only to end up wide awake and drained of tears.
Shadow become manifestations of my fears,
that've hidden in my closet for many many years.
Every day's a let down, every night a curse.
And seeing your smile only makes it worse.
Cuz i'm not the one that put it there,
the final irony of which i was unprepared.
You're always finding a way to let me down,
you're so full of shit that your eyes turned brown.
But good things come to those who wait,
while ugliness fills the hearts of the fake.
But my ugliness will fade,
until one day it all but goes away.
And you'll be left with this emptiness,
a toxic reminder of all of this.
And after all that shit you put me through,
i want you to know...
I curse the day that i met you.


I'm sitting in the waiting room, hoping they call my name soon. I'm reading the latest Chuck P. book when my leg does that shaky thing that only happens when i'm really nervous. The room is decorated with Native American paintings, some are even embroidered on all the pillows. It's calming. After 45 minutes i'm called back. The doctor seems nice enough as he leads me into his office. It is almost bare, with nothing on the walls, little furniture, and files scattered everywhere. After filling out some paperwork, we begin.

He asks me questions, lots of questions. I answer them all honestly. I admit to things that i've never said out loud before. It's funny how it's almost easier to be open to strangers. Most of his questions hit home, and conjure memories of going through the situations. After about an hour of this, he tells me what he thinks. He says that i'm bi-polar, manic depressive, have panic attacks, anxiety troubles and, here comes the bombshell, that i'm paranoid schizofrenic. He say that i need to be on anti-psychotics. After almost 24 hours it's sunk in, and i've reached a few conclusions.

First, I'm going to give up on dating and relationships. I'm not saying that because i'm bitter about my past ones, because i'm really not. I've just kind of realized that with all my mental problems and physical afflictions, it's irresponsible to try and get close to someone that way. That's just the way it is. I can't risk putting someone through that kind of pain. Which brings me to point 2.

Two weeks ago, i sat in my bathtub with a razor blade for an hour, fighting a voice in my head that was screaming at me to break the skin. The summer after i graduated, i took two medicince cabinets full of pills before going to sleep. I never did see a doctor afterwards. I never told anyone about this stuff until it was long over with. It's never been about attention for me, or wanting to be saved at that moment. It was about a desire for everything to just end. It's not something new to me. I used to go to sleep when i was seven, and pray that i wouldn't wake up. Even though it seems silly to me now, i realize that i'm not the one in control when i'm in the downward spiral. I don't want to hurt anyone. My mom once told me that she's just waiting for the call telling her that i had finally done it. It broke my heart because i realized she was right.
But i am fighting it. I've fought it every day for my entire life, and i'm tired. I hope this medication works, but it scares me too. I don't want to completely change, losing the qualities about myself i like along with everything else in the process.

I also belive that all the great art, music, movies, etc come from pain. That inner turmoil and insanity is the fuel that drives every great artist. I'm not saying that i'm in the same league as them, but i do believe that i have talent. I'm scared that if i take medication, that will go away. The only time i can write anything of value is when i'm in the throes of psychosis. I can't lose that, because somethimes i feel like that's all i truly have.

But maybe, one day, i can be rid of the racing thoughts, voices, black outs, paranoia, mood swings, longing for self destruction, anxiety, and all the other shit that's dragged me down for so long, but keep the positive things that i like to think make me, me.

Another Stewart Family Memory

This is one of my favorite stories to tell, because it involves humiliation that wasn't at my expense.

We were at the verdun manor haunted themepark: Dad, some chick he was seeing, Johnboy, and me. Now, John has always had it in his head that he was god's gift to women, but that's a different story. There was a hot little goth chick working the front door of verdun manor, and john decided to try and put the mack on her. As is usually the case, she was only mildly interested at best, but he played it up by detailing all the dirty things he was going to do to her.

We were walking around the park trying to figure out what we were going to do next, when he saw her. She was sitting at a picnic table enjoying her smoke break. You could actually see the gears in his head grinding as he plotted his move. He stood there for a moment before finally deciding to walk over to her. He had the swagger that i swear he practices in the mirror along with the smile he always claims to be sexy. I never had the heart to tell him that he just looks like he's passing gas.

The distance between them was getting smaller and smaller, until he was about seven feet away. He opened his mouth to spit out some tired line, just as my dad came up behind them. He placed his hands on john's shoulder and said to the goth chick...

"Hi, this is John. He REALLY likes you." He paused so that the words could sink in, added "You kids have fun." Then he just left John standing there with his mouth agape. He then lowered his head, and walked away in shame.

That, ladies and gentlemen, was the greatest cock block ever in the history of cock blockery. Unless you include the time i inadvertantly got Dunsy in taco bell, but that's for another time.


Every evening i arrive home, alone. I hate my apartment. Just too many memories. Her ghost still haunts this place. Every now and then i can catch her phantom scent in the air. Sometimes if i'm digging around for something, i'll find a long black hair that didn't come from me. It's a reminder of memories long gone, and that i should probably clean up a little more often.

If i've got food i'll cook, but i'm left with way too much so it lasts me a couple of nights. I find myself with way too much time on my hands. The isolation gets to me a little more every day. The worst part is that most of it is of my own volition. Sometimes i read, or watch the same tired movies, write, but mostly i think. I think about all the nights and moments that brought me to this point, but i never feel better about any of it. This can't be what my life has become, what i've become. On the those seldom events that i talk to someone, i tell them i'm fine, i've moved on, that i'm doing better. I still don't know who it is i'm trying to convince. I barely smile anymore. I feel like something inside me is gone, has rotted away.

Eventually, i kill enough time to finally call it a day. The bed seems so much bigger than before. I'll lay for hours until sleep finally comes to claim me. Every night i have the same dream. In it we're together, happy as all the plans we made come to fruition. Funny how nothing ever looks even remotely like the brochure. I wake up, and again, every night i'm disappointed by the empty place next to me. It makes me feel sad, pathetic, and small. I roll myself into a ball, curling as tight as physically possible, and pray that when the sleep returns, that the dreams don't follow.

The alarm goes off every morning at 6, and i fight with the snooze button for a half hour. I finally drag myself out of bed, and run through the motions of getting ready for the day. I spend the entire morning commute dreading the moment i walk into work, where the dreams become a nightmare.


South Carolina

I was in the office of Blockbuster counting down the tills, when i felt my phone vibrate. I opened it up and saw that i had a message from Liz. It simply read, "we need to talk."

We had been broken up for almost a month at this point, and i hadn't seen her since. All my blood ran cold, and my heart sank into my stomach. I knew this wasn't going to be a good talk.

I called her up, and her voice was shaky.

"What's wrong?"
"I don't wanna talk about it over the phone."
"Is it bad?"
"Yeah, it's real bad."
"Jesus, Liz you're scaring me. Just tell me what's wrong."

Silence, followed by heavy breathing and sobs.

"I've been having some medical problems. I started bleeding at work and i went to the doctor. I found out that i was pregnant...but i lost it."

Time stopped. It's funny how quickly your world can fall apart around you. How you can miss something so deeply, when you didn't even know you had her in the first place. I broke down. The pain that i felt i wouldn't wish on anyone, especially someone who wanted kids.

"Are you ok?" I asked her.
"No...are you ok?"

I told her i would go and see her when she got off of work. Then i hung up the phone and wept. Chuck came in and i told him what happened, but he didn't know what to say. I hurried with the rest of my duties and went home. It was like someone had punched a hole right through my chest. I felt empty, hollow. I was in a calmer state, if you can call it that, when i walked into the front door. That's when Jonathan and his family asked what was wrong. I broke down again as i told them what happened. I was met with one question and one comment.

Are you sure it was yours?
Yes I'm sure, fuck you for asking.

Well, you know, maybe it's for the best.
For the best? FOR THE BEST? How fucking dare you say that to me. I don't care what might have come from this regarding her and my relationship. I could have dealt with any outcome from that, good or bad. But don't you ever say that the death of my child could be a blessing in disguise. If i could have sent them to hell with a look right then and there...i'd have done it.

It wasn't until late that morning that she got home from work. She said she hadn't eaten all day, so i picked up some food for us and headed over. When i got there and she answered the door i was in shock. Good god....she was already starting to show. She let me in and we went into her bedroom. I had brought a movie over that she had been wanting to see, to help her take her mind off of things. We ate and watched the movie in silence.

Once it was over, we started the talk. The details of the conversation are fuzzy, and i only remember fragments. I held her, and we grieved together. I looked at her and wondered how this all could have gone so wrong. She told me that she was hormonal when we broke up, and that that was the reason for a lot of the fighting. That she didn't really mean it. Then we kissed, and that led to more.

Afterwards we were holding each other, talking. My hand caressed her stomach, and her hand found mine and held it there. She started crying even harder. She told me that she thought she might have been pregnant, but ignored it because she wasn't sure. She told me that it was her fault that it had happened. I told her that i didn't blame her, which was the truth. That sometimes these things happen, not that that makes it any less painful. We were the only two people on the planet that felt what we were going through, but we gave each other little comfort. Something like this was supposed to bring us together, but we weren't together and this really drove that point home.

We laid there the entire night, and watched the sun come up. I didn't want to leave. I wanted to stay there and hold her, tell her everything was going to be alright, and that we could try again. The relationship, i mean. But i knew that's not what she wanted. I left her house now grieving two things, instead of one.

Not that there is a good time for something like this to happen, but this was definitely the worst. Jonathan and his wife were due to have their baby any day now. For someone who just went through a miscarriage, seeing a family bring their new life home isn't exactly an ideal environment. So i stayed out as much as i could.

I called my mom looking for some comfort, but as soon as i told her she switched the subject to her work. I got mad, yelled at her, and hung up. I called my father and aunt Betty,and they helped.

I wandered around Summerville feeling lost. The tears would come and go without warning. There was one night when Kat was having trouble with baby Lyric, due to exhaustion, so i offered to take over for a little while. I sat in a rocking chair in the nursery, rocking the baby back and forth. He was asleep in no time. Sitting there, watching him doze was the most heartbreaking experience i've ever had.

Eventually, the days turned to weeks, which melted into months. The pain has dulled, but hasn't gone away. I hope it never will. Not a day goes by that i don't think about her. (Even though the baby technically didn't have a gender yet, i choose the female label because i refuse to refer to my child as "it") If things had gone a different route, she would have turned a year old last month. It really gets to me sometimes. I wish things had been different. But if she is out there somewhere i hope that she knows that her daddy loves her deeply, and that she will always be wanted.

An old friend, Mediatech, and Liquid Sex

So, last night I went to open house at the Mediatech Institute, hoping for a leg up in the film business. My old friend Rory was in town and has the same aspirations as me and tagged along with his wife. We spent time catching up on the four + years that have passed. It was good. After awhile it kinda felt like it was only weeks that had gone by.

After we had enough of that we headed to the school, and found it with suprisingly little difficulty. At first glance i was hooked. It oozed professionalism and I knew i had to go there.

The tour started with the film department, which was actually quite small, even if the equipment looked top of the line. One of the instructors gave this speech about how much money he makes and i doubted him due to the low rent Mr. Rogers sweater he was wearing. Rory pointed out the students that were already there, and the class of people we would be surrounded by. Smug, pompous rich boys who thought they were above everyone because they've been in the same building that Robert Rodriguez had taken a shit. Idiots. 20 minutes in and the film tour, the whole reason for us being there, was over.

The next hour and forty minutes were spent listening to the sound guys going on and on about how awesmome their equipment was. However, there were two highlights. We got to meet a guy that did sound effects for Ren and Stimpy, which was unarguably cool. Then we met James.

He was the most boring speaker at the whole school, droning on and on about nothing that interested me. Then he touched the keyboard. I can't go into detail about what he did, because i couldn't do it justice. All i can say is that he played every instrument imaginable from his keyboard. FROM HIS KEYBOARD! This demonstration lasted about 20 minutes and it was fucking amazing. Rory looked at me giddly and exclaimed, "Dude, he is Liquid Sex!"

Once all the afterglow wore off and i got us lost on the way home, we all talked. The school was way too expensive and they didn't accept any grants or financial aid. That ultimately means that i don't have a chance in hell of attending. But that's when Rory and I laid it all out. We don't need them. We're going to do it all: funding, planning, shooting, directing, acting, editing, all of it on our own. That alone sounded better than anything i gained from that tour. So, while the school left me crestfallen, that conversation gave me hope. See you in Hollywood, bitches.

Getting over you is a 12 step program.

I miss you,
no not the person that you are but,
the one I made you out to be.
And I don't wanna see you in a new light,
I don't wanna know how much you have changed.
I just want to forget...your name.
So I will forget you but,
what you did is unforgivable.
And it's all a double standard,
when the he said she said,
changes the way you see the world.
So this'll be the last time,
I tell you that I love you.
But it's just one time,
shy of meaning it.
End Chorus:
I don't wanna hear you say,
that you're sorry.
They're just words,
they mean nothing to me.
And I don't wanna be the one that's,
there for you in your time of need.
When you can't even do,
the same for me.
Chorus: 1x
Now I sit,
here by myself.
The burning of your pictures,
is the only thing that helps.
Though it hurts,
the pain I feel is cleansing.
The first sign of relief that,
can only come from closure.
Chorus: 1x

Friday night: revelations, Bone Daddy’s, and UCB

The first day of my new attitude is going far better than I could have expected. I kept it together, smiled, and meant it. Tonight, I have to celebrate. Matt comes by and picks me up. We decide to go to Bone Daddy's since it's the type of place where the silverware wears more material than the waitresses. On the way up there we smoke cigarettes and talk about our current relationships, or lack thereof. After much analysis we decide being single is definitely the way to go.

About half way there we're reminded of the number one reason not to trust 635. A massive traffic jam. We take the next exit which leads us to nothing but residential areas. After a half hour I realize I have no idea where we are, although it looks familiar. Suddenly, a landmark reminds me I'm two minutes away from Rotaquip. This was a job I had working with -----'s mom. It was great when her and I were together, but, take it from me, never work with an ex's mom. It did bring back some memories though...

Her coming up there on random days, and we'd go out for my lunch break. We'd always go to Chili's, and get lost in each other. It was nice til I faced her mom at work one day with hickeys all over my face and neck. None of which came from her daughter.

I'm brought back to the present by yet another familiar landmark. The Super Target ------ and I used to come to for groceries...

Sitting in on Friday nights, ordering pizza, and curling up next to each other on the bed for some late night television. The slow, painful realization that we were just there because the other one was a warm body. Too scared to let that go away, because loneliness seemed worse somehow.

A turn into another residential street. Jesus Christ, this can't be possible. We drive right by ------'s place. I ask him, " Are you the fucking ghost of relationship's past?" What's next? A visit to the parking lot where I popped my cherry? Then, we pass by the playground where her and I spent an amazing night...

A relationship consisting of smoking lots of pot, amazing sex, and listening to music. Then we found out that there wasn't really much more to it than that.

Hunger finally kicks me out of my nostalgia. We've been driving for over an hour now, and I'm starting to believe this place doesn't exist. My fears are soon put to bed when we finally find the highway, and reach the restaurant in minimal time. And everything he said about the place was true, it's awesome. The girls are all smoking hot, with each one looking better than the last. Until the obligatory old broad came out from the back. I prayed to any god out there that really existed, don't let us have the old broad.

Our table gets called and we're led to our table. I get so busied with the menu I don't hear the waitress come up. She asks what I want to drink and I look up at her. She's beautiful, and smells nice. She smiles, I smile. Life is good. When she comes back to our table I make a few jokes and she laughs. After that, I don't really speak to her. Baby steps, and all that. I look to my right and start to crack up at the sight of a table of disappointed guys. They got the old broad.

We have a conversation about how growing up without a decent father figure really screwed up our relationships with the opposite sex. He lost his father 14 years ago, and mine, we won't delve into. This meant we had to rely on the advice of our peers for any information dealing with women. I found out years later they didn't know anything more than I did.

The drive back is mostly in silence. Knowing where we are also cuts the time of it in half. We watch an episode of UCB and he heads home. I sit down and do something I haven't seriously done in ages. I write. It feels like I've finally found myself again. I think I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. (you can throw in your own cliché there, too. they're all interchangeable)

It's funny. When you're down, all anyone tells you is that 'it'll get better'. After awhile, you finally face your problems and get past them. The second they see you smile they say, "See? I told you so." As if some arbitrary comment they made weeks prior was the sole cause of your emotional rehabilitation. It cracks me up. That's like me standing next to a guy on a beautiful sunny day, and saying to him "It's gonna rain." Then, a month later when it does rain I say to him, "See? I told you so."

Right now, I'm just happy that this feeling has stuck with me. The ache is still there sometimes, but it's manageable. I guess it's all about being thankful for small favors. Today, I didn't let myself fall back down, and that makes it a very good day.

It’s finally happened...

Author’s note: I am not writing this to attack anyone, get pity, or for any other negative reason. I don’t want comments telling me that things will get better, or anything of that variety.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. I’d always wondered what it would take to finally set me over the edge, and past the point of no return. Well, now I know. The person i used to be is gone. I can’t be the nice guy that cares about people anymore, it’s just too hard. I refuse to keep playing the fool, the living joke. I won’t put up with shit that just tears me down anymore. From now on, I’m going to be on the other end of that. I can’t keep trying to be the knight in shining armor, because every time i do it destroys me from the inside out, while they walk away unscathed.

I’m taking a break from everyone. After i finish paying off my personal debts, I’m done with people. (With the exception of a very select few) I don’t care how that makes anyone feel. It’s time for me to finally be selfish, and do what I need to make me happy. I guess i’ve finally acquiesced to the fact that a life alone is better than ever feeling this pain again.

An ode to retail

So last week i quit blockbuster, happily. For about three months i was working two jobs and it just about killed me. Hopefully, it will end the on and off relationship i've had with retail for about six years.

The business did a lot for me. It fueled an ever growing hatred that i have for humanity, kept a little (very little) money in my pocket, and it gave me some of my best stories. It still blows my mind how horrible people can act to complete strangers. I remember this one time, this woman came into the store and was just a complete bitch to me. And this was even one of those rare times i didn't deserve it. I finally snapped and asked her what her problem was. I'll never forget what she said to me.

"Look, i've had a really bad day. It has nothing to do with you, but i need someone to yell at and you can't do anything about it."

That just blew my mind. It was that point where i realized that retail workers are the tampons of society, and everyone is on the fucking rag.

So, i emplore you, cut those still in the bussiness some slack. Even if they're not terribly good at their job just talk crap about them after you leave. After all, that's the courtesy we give you every single time you pissed us off.

Story time with Davlin

Ok, as many of you know I recently got a new car back in November. Well, when coming to my vehicle last thursday in my work's parking lot I spied a note on my windshield. It read:

"I did some damage to your car in parking." It then left his name (who i will refer to as MD) and phone number. Sure enough upon examination of my car there was a dent in the rear passenger door, and my black car now has a two foot strip of white paint. Quite the eyesore.

Upon calling the number MD seemed very dismissive about the whole thing, and just told me to go to a buddy of his to get it fixed. Gee, thanks. After a rough weekend (that's another story altogether) I was left with 0 dollars and decided to aproach this guy with a deal: he could pay me a fair amount and i'd just let the whole thing go. I understood that i'd be taking a hit by not recieving the full payment, but fuck it, i wanted to eat. I called him up and the exchange went as follows.:

Me: Ok, i was wondering if you'd like to make a deal. You just pay me a sum of money and i'll just drop this whole thing.

MD: That sounds good, I just want to get this over with. What do you think sounds fair.

Me: Well, the door is dented, there's white paint on my black car, and i won't have a way around whilst the car is being repaired. I'll let it go for 200.

MD: (laughs) I'm not paying that much. I'll give you 100.

Me: OK, look. Since i do appreciate you leaving me a note, i'll meet you halfway. 150.

MD: I won't give you anything over 125.

Me: OK, you know what. You're forgetting one important thing here. You're not calling the shots. YOU hit MY car. I haven't had it three months yet and you already fucked it up. Since you're wanting to handle things this way, i'm assuming you either don't have insurance or don't wanna put this on yours. I don't mind getting my insurance involved in this, or reporting you to the cops if you don't have any. So here's the choices you've got. You can pay the entire price of my car from a auto shop I'm comfortable with and you won't get any kind of discount from, as well as paying to get me a rental car while it's getting fixed. We can go through the insurance meaning your payments will go up. Or you can give me 150 buck to fix YOUR mistake. I don't really care, I've got nothing to lose here, and i'm giving you a fair out on this. So, those are your options. It's up to you.

MD: I'll send you a check.

Me: Thanks, you're a sweetheart.

Can you believe this asshole? It blows my mind how even when some people are wrong, they still think they hold the cards. I only wish i was a whoremonger. That way i could mail him a picture of the money shot that his hard earned dollars bought.

The horror genre: a lamentation

From as far back as i can remember, i've been a huge fan of horror films. It began before i was even five years old, after watching A Nightmare on Elm Street. My love for this series only grew as i got older. (anyone who's seen my apartment can tell you i've more than just a small affinity for the franchise) From there i moved on to other classics such as House, Monster Squad, Nightbreed, and the Evil dead trilogy. I couldn't get enough of the stuff, and over the years i've seen all types of the scary stuff. Hollywood blockbusters, b movies, monsters, slashers, genetic mutations, and hauntings. I've come to believe that i've seen it all.

The recent movies that have come out only strengthen this belief. I have seen everything. Most movie makers just throw a shit-load of gore in their flicks and call it horror. The slasher flick, to me, reached it's peak in the 80's, and now it's time to move on. Is anyone these days still scared by the lone killer kills off a group of teenagers one by one formula? Seriously, where is the originality nowadays? If not sticking to the aforementioned formula, then we just issue remake after remake, or sequel after sequel.

The one flick in the past couple of years that i really enjoyed was Saw. I thought it was brilliant. But now instead of working on something else fresh and new (which is what made saw stand out in the first place) they've settled for just churning em out year after year. Now, i'm not saying that the sequels are bad, just growing stale as the years go by. Film makers have just grown lazy.

Speaking of lazy film makers, can someone please tell me why Eli Roth still has a job in hollywood? The guy is a hack, and anyone that tells you different is an idiot. I saw cabin fever, and while it wasn't horrible, it wasn't even close to good, either. Then i was cooerced into seeing both Hostel films. I don't understand why this series has grown so popular. The youger kids out there don't seem to realize what makes a good horror flick. Tons of gore DOES NOT equal scary. It's actually starting to sicken me that we call these glorified snuff films entertainment. This goes for the saw films as well. I recently re-watched saw 3 and felt kinda disgusted with myself afterwards.

I think we need to pull away from the intense violence for a couple of years. Movies lately have just got for the cheap shock factor over story and substance. It starting to speak volumes when i can watch someone get their intestines pulled out and not even flinch. This kinda shit doesn't even effect me anymore, and that's more disturbing than anything else to me. Anyway, i guess i better wrap all this up, the girl i've got tied up in my bathroom is starting to come to, and i wanna try out my new blowtorch. Until next time!

Catching up

I'm usually alone when she visits me, my oldest friend. Her face is as white as virgin snow, a stark contrast to the jet black hair flowing from her scalp. Nothing about her is terribly out of place, save for the gaping hole where her heart should be. She has the look of a negligent mother, the voice of a dissappointed father, and the embrace of a jilted lover. Her name is sadness, deppression if you want to be emo about it. We catch up from time to time. She always brings gifts. Painful little boxes adorned with a black bow. Inside are the tools for self destruction: melancholy, doubt, fear, anger, self deprication, and an all encompassing lonliness. In her arms my body runs cold, but my heart pumps my veins full of liquid fire. As always i pray the visit to be short. I close my eyes, and pretend that it's not her lips pressed against mine...


I'm on a rowboat drifting in the middle of a dark, hungry sea. The wind kisses my face in anticipation of things to come. A storm is on the horizon. The sky churns in seethes with lament. I hunker down inside of myself, trying to find shelter and absolution. For i know that it's by His grace alone that i'll make it out of this maelestrom. It goes quiet for only an instant. A single thunder clap issues the storms arrival. The rain is coming down in sheets. Wind rocks my boat back and forth. Fear grips me. I issue one final plea for help before i'm thrown from my vessel, left to sink into the abyss.

Davlin’s guide to etiquette 1

Aka: How to stop being such a douche bag and become an all around better person.

Ok this is beyond me. Why is it that people insist on starting conversations in public restrooms?

Douchebag: Hey how's it goin?

Me: Listen can we do this later? I'd rather not talk to you while i've got my dick in my hands.

It's bad enough the choose, not all the empty urinals, but the one RIGHT NEXT to you, THEN they wanna have a conversation. Okay... 4 things.

1. I don't know you.
2. If i did, i wouldn't like you.
3. If my some act of god your very existence didn't repulse me to my very core, i wouldn't want to talk to you in this environment.
4. While peing in a public restroom, i have to maintain severe concentration to be able to picture Angelina Jolie's face in the porcelain. It relaxes me, and it's also like a fun little game for me. I imagine i'm at a carnival playing the game where you shoot water into the clown's face making a balloon get the idea. Your babbling hinders my ability to do so.

In closing, if you see me in a public restroom resist the urge to talk to me, lest i use your shoes for target practice. In that case, you should just pray to god i only have to go number one.
And that's you lesson for today.


My dreams have been gettin pretty intense as of late. There's this thing within me that's been dormant for a good while. I feel like it's starting to waken. It scares me. I've got this unshakable feeling that something bad is going to happen soon. I don't know what form it's going to take but it's there and it won't be ignored. There are times when i'm plagued with doubt and i don't know what to do. The darkness is coming again. What it all boils down to is whether or not i've built up enough defenses to weather this coming storm, or if i'll be consumed by it. Only to be washed away without anything to grab ahold of. But these are lies, I've got plenty to keep me tethered down. I just hope that they'll hold tight, and not let go. I'm not ready to go back to the abyss, for i'm not entirely sure that i'll be able to make it out one last time.

The day my soul died.

something horrible has happened. i just went through an injustice that i will not soon forget. quiznos will feel my wrath through streams of hate mail

i found it. my cause. the thing i've been looking to take a stand against. this world shall never be the same

quiznos has cancelled the culinary delight that is, the meatball sub

since yesterday morning i've a craving. a craving that could not, NAY would not be ignored. so today i finally go to the place so it could be sated. i look on the isn't there

i ask the clerk. he says "we don't make that anymore" i felt like they wiped all my hopes and dreams from the menu along with it

there is no god

The most romantic night. Well, sort of.

I was standing on the beach in South Carolina. It was about ten oclock at night, and the full moon was shining bright above. A gentle breeze was blowing and waves lapped the beach. It was by far one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen.

The couples on the beach were all getting really cozy right there, not caring who may see. There was this certain charge in the air. I look my companion into the eyes and say...

"You know, Dunsy. This would be a lot better if we had brought chicks. Now it's just damned uncomfortable."

"Agreed, now go stand over there."

The end...

Another Stewart Family Memory (RDA)

My little cousin Cameron is a big fan of Hummers. To clarify, I'm talking about the H2s. I am a big fan of hummers myself. To clarify, I'm talking about blowjobs.

We were riding in the car with Dad and Robin.

Cameron: Aunt Betty said that she'll buy me a Hummer when i turn 16!

Davlin: Dad, that's bullshit! I didn't get my first hummer until i was 17!
The end.

Dinner with Cameron!
Cameron: Davlin...i wish you were a sandwich.
Davlin: Why?
Cameron: Cuz i'd take a bite outta you!
Davlin: I don't know how to talk to you, dude.


Every now and then i long for the times when we'd smoke cigarettes on those late night summer drives. The carefree days of our youth seem like a lifetime ago. Now we're left with the remnants, and we're haunted my the ghosts.

And it's ok yeah yeah. Confront the demons then move on. Let the past be the past. Never dwell on mistakes, life's too short for regrets.

So roll down the windows, and blare the music. This feeling is elation, we struggle not to lose it. The warm summer air is a welcome change from winter's cold and bitter breeze.

I engulf myself with the happiness i'm feeling. More often than not, this sensation is fleeting. And all i'm left with? Reopening of the wounds that i'd thought had long since been healed.End...

At the water's edge

"I can't do this anymore. It's over" There's a finality in her voice that really drives the point home. "Surely you must have seen this coming?"

I tell her I have. That i'm sorry. I really tried this time, honest to god, i did.

"Just stop it, ok? Please, just stop." she tells me, her make up streaming. "It doesn't matter. Not now. Not anymore" I've never seen her this cold, and I caused it. "There's no sense dragging whatever it was that we had out any longer."

Then she's gone. Just me alone by the lake side. The only cloud in the sky is hanging above my head, dark and angry.

This time it was my fault. I was a liar. One so completely full of shit that i started to believe it myself. An asshole, selfish, and hyporcitical. Yes, i was all these things, and so much more. What's that saying about good intentions? I kneel down by the water's edge and prepare my biggest confesion.

On the lake's surface I see my reflection. But in it I am younger. Before the tattoos, drugs, sex, all of it. I stare into the eyes of disappointment. Tears flow freely and i don't care. If this is the last time i am to fell anything, i want to savor it.

I remove my shirt and gently rub my chest. I close my eyes and grit my teeth as i tear away the skin, muscle, tissue, and bone. With one swift motion i grab my heart and tear it out to examine it. I'll be damned...a heart really can be broken. The mass i hold in my hand is black, riddled with cuts and bruises. It's amazing it could function through all the scar tissue..

I'm sorry...

"It's over."

The wounded mound is still beating as i place it through the reflection in the water. I stand and walk away, leaving the sun to set on this day and the stupid boy i just gave up on being.

I don't know, so don't bother asking.

A seed has been planted. I'm not sure if it will grow into something beautiful, dangerous, or something else altogether. At this point, i'd settle for anything that's not a tremendous cluster fuck. If life has taught me anything, it's that all of this is fragile, and the slightest crack can make it shatter around you. I don't know what it is yet, or what i want it to be, but it's there. My mind races. Slow down. Take your time. No need to rush.

The computer makes things so much easier. Behind it's glass everything stays safe. You can be ambiguous and nonchalant. Glances are stolen, and i pretend that i don't notice.

In reality it's all very different. I try to be witty, older, cooler, smarter, just more of everything. My mouth opens but as soon as you look at me the words hit the floor so hard it's almost audible. Being speechless doesn't sit well with me. It's something i'm not entirely used to. So why has it been happening so much lately? Like i said, i don't know what any of this means, but it's there all the same.

The story of basic cable and Vampyros Lesbos

Writers note: Okay ladies, i'm about to let you inside the minds of males when left alone, or in groups. If you would like to keep the nice, wholesome image of sons, brothers, fathers, spouses, or any other males in your life, then just do yourself a favor and stop reading this now.
Trevs and his girlfriend just got cable last night, and since him and I were hanging out, wanted to see what it offered. It was about midnight so all the movie channels were playing their basic softcore affairs. The one title that stood out was Busty Cops 2. Jackpot! Upon trying to view this delightful cinematic classic we were brokenhearted to find out that he unfortunately didn't subscribe to the channel. Sexual healing was also a no go. After going to every risque title we reached the same fate. Then we came to the sundance channel, and there was some good news.

1. He had this channel.
2. They were playing a movie entitled Vampyros Lesbos. Thank you God.

Now, he lives with his girlfriend and can get laid, and see breasts any time he wants. I, even though in the middle of a ten month dry spell, have seen my fair share of nudity on screen and in person. Despite that, we were still as excited as two kids seeing a playboy dug out of their brothers room for the first time. It was fuckin pathetic. This movie was terrible. It had english subtitles, was dubbed in German, and i'm still unsure about the coutry of origin. Nothing made sense.

"I will bring you pain, you will love me." An ACTUAL line of dialogue from this abomination of cinema.

But we watched it anyways, because in the first five minutes it showed a very endowed woman topless. So, we figured, it would ultimately show a lot more. What we watched for an HOUR was quite the contrary. I'll give the movie this, it was fucking hillarious. It made no sense. The camera would zoom in on an actors left eye an cheek for no apparent reason. It would show inanimate objects that had nothing to do with anything. It was great. But the big payoff was when the head "vampire" was killed, in broad daylight no less. She was stabbed in the eye and landed naked, spread eagle on the bed. Our prayers were answered, and we were satisfied. Then we looked up at her eye again and realized we were staring at dead bush. After that we were pretty disgusted with ourselves, and i went home to shower as i felt very unclean. There you have it: an hour in the male mind.

Another stewart family moment (rda-reader's discretion advised)

The first time i ever finger-banged a chick was in my truck Now, since this was my first time i had a few things to learn. Like don't eat finger foods 24 hours after and, more importantly, that the smell of a really dirty pussy will LINGER! I drove my dad somewhere three days after my little adventure and my truck was still really ripe. We drove for about fifteen minutes in total silence.

Dad:(with a look of absolute disgust on his face) What on earth is that smell?

I looked at him for a moment before responding, "dad if you don't know by now, i'm not tellin ya!" The end.

Pep talk with dad!
This was his advice after i had a really traumatic breakup.

"Date ugly girls. The pretty ones will always find someone better than you and move on. At least when the uglies do this, who cares?"

(insert your one witty coment here cuz that was one of the only times in my life that i was speechless)


21 years. That's how long i've been on this planet. I've experienced just about everything that life can throw at you. And somehow i've survived, and became stronger for it. I've felt the loss of death, and the joy of birth. Hell, i've been reborn a thousand times over and don't see that stopping. I've parted with friends i've loved deeply, and made new ones that i have no idea how i've survived without them. I celebrated 3 younger siblings being brought into this world, but also mourned the loss of my own child, one that i'll never get to know. I've learned lessons the hard way, and taught a few myself. I've had my bouts with suicide, and after almost succeeding i realized how pointless is really is. After almost ten years of relationships i've found out that i still don't know much about love or women. And yet somehow throughout all the pain and heartache i wouldn't trade a instant. I'm here, and for the first time since as long as i can remember, i'm happy.

Another Stewart Family Memory

Right before i'd moved to SC i caught my grandfather going through my movies."Can i borrow these?"
"Do you know anything about them?" I asked as i saw the ones he wanted to borrow. He picked out orgazmo, half baked, and american history x.
"Well, orgazmo's not a porno....not even any nudity."
"Oh." He looked at it, sighed, and put it back. The end.

Bampa's Half Baked Movie Review: "Buncha Doopers!"

Is this goodbye?

The television is on but plays only static. This bottle of pills is empty, offering no relief. In my mind's eye i can see your picture. The edges are frayed and distorted, the result of a long and distant memory. The walls i've fought to tear down are slowly being reconstructed. Leaving only me in this shell. There is only the slightest crack, letting in little light and the smallest glimpse of a world outside my cage. I approach it and look through. On the other side is a hospital room. Monitors and tubes hooked up to a vessell that i once knew. The only sounds emmitted from this room come from the respirator, and a few other instruments. The EKG beeps once. Twice. And one last time before it holds it's note. It pierces through me. The last thing i see is a smile before the light is extinguished.

Revelation of sorts.

I've come to this realization after several conversations and incidents set me into deep thought. People seldom forgive, and they never forget. And that's fine. I don't begrudge anyone their hangups as long as i'm allowed mine. That being said, how long am i supposed to let the mistakes of my past label who i am now as a person? Granted, there are a lot of things i wish i could take back, but doesn't everybody? I've done everything i could think of to show people the light, but they believe what they wanna believe. I've finally decided to leave them to their delusions and fabrications. So for everyone in the past that i've hurt, i am truly sorry. Really i am. I wish i could repair the damage done, but if you won't let me, it can never happen. So i do apologize, but if that isn't enough, then fuck it. I'm too emotionally exhausted to give a shit anymore.


My gas tank is almost runnin on empty. And at times i think that the gauge is referring to me. Cuz i've reached the last leg, the end of my rope. The wounds have reopened and i am bleeding hope. So what will it take to show you that i am trying to change? I'd drive for miles and miles just to escape the pain.

Cuz i realize what i lost. A day late are all the battles that i've fought. I know now never to take anything for granted. Cuz it's all gone. And i'm just stuck here empty handed.

But in this i've found love in living another day. I've lost my faith but found my way. Sometimes i wanna go back to when everything was perfect. But how can you wish for something that never did exist?

And i know i often act without reason or a rhyme. Indulging in self destruction, cuz it helps to pass the time. I get so overwhelmed that i wanna leave it all behind. Leave a note of insincere apology just to give you some peace of mind.