MCP Siege Emulator: rivethed software, dingo production team incorporated
"I wondered for a long time if that was how I was going to be... I wander into peoples lives, mess them up and then leave."
One of the most peaceful scenes I've ever seen is that of a small path that leads out to a hill side amid a lightly forested area. The entire path is tinged with shadows of leaves from the trees above. And its in black and white.
Its a murky diatribe that I'm going to grace the good readers (all 5 of you) with. Its an applique that sits on the dusty glass view window to my book of life. Some of this static noise applies to some of you, some of it doesn't. Try to take in what does, and try to disregard what doesn't. I know that I seem to aggitate and even provoke most everyone and I'd think that my actions would be as transparent as those which they often evoke. I don't mean harm, ever. Caustic humor and all. Like the strange elation you feel when you finally get to use the restroom after holding it for 7 hours- its probably not the best of ideas, and it can make you say things like "Somebody put shit in my pants", but all and all it ends up giving people a smile (usually of relief). Anyone gets a threatening phone call, anyone gets a bruise from someone that says they care about them, all anyone I care about has to do if someone is so much as slightly considering harming them is say it to me and I'll be there. To put this shit succinctly, if anyone decides to make you're life uncomfortable, I'm going to give them a Napalm Enima. Similar in nature to how amonia and bleach don't mix. By themselves they aren't exceptionally painful but together their really hard to deal with. Similar things that are hard to deal with together but alone are livable include; tense necks, sprained ankles, cramps, and aching muscles. But the icing is almost over, and the cake is soon to commence, right? almost. There are things, in spite of the odd reputation that people have given me, that even I blush about. However the gravity of the situation is so strange. I can't see something which involves the kind of bond that the things mentioned would take, causing me anything apart from stress. Yet the double standard to it is that I wish that there was a way that I could see to it that a parallel of the aformentioned fusion would occur so that I knew that the 'issue' in question was drawn to a reasonable conclusion. Moving on though we come to the cake. The cake is that I wept recently, tears like that of a monsoon. Tears that seared the flesh on my face and though they have been removed I feel sizzling steam still curling off of my cheeks. There is an inevitable end that I trained myself to deal with and overcome. However I didn't have the foresight to see how the things I wanted most in my life would impact that conflict. To my remorse I felt the ephemeral surface only last night. Like my own nightmare bunny save that when my eyes opened it wasn't me- and worst of all I could not stop. To me I would take an hour and willingly do it again, likewise i would take 10 years and do it again- but when it falls to its final moment there will be nothing left.
All of this stuff, these bits of paper I try to collect, these words I seem to gurgle out, these pointless exercises in futility and diversion- they mean nothing then. I'm not talking about when I die here. What I'm saying is that when the time comes for the brillance I see to at last be extinguished, I will be nothing; because I was nothing to begin with until it was there.
One of the most peaceful scenes I've ever seen is that of a small path that leads out to a hill side amid a lightly forested area. The entire path is tinged with shadows of leaves from the trees above. And its in black and white.
Its a murky diatribe that I'm going to grace the good readers (all 5 of you) with. Its an applique that sits on the dusty glass view window to my book of life. Some of this static noise applies to some of you, some of it doesn't. Try to take in what does, and try to disregard what doesn't. I know that I seem to aggitate and even provoke most everyone and I'd think that my actions would be as transparent as those which they often evoke. I don't mean harm, ever. Caustic humor and all. Like the strange elation you feel when you finally get to use the restroom after holding it for 7 hours- its probably not the best of ideas, and it can make you say things like "Somebody put shit in my pants", but all and all it ends up giving people a smile (usually of relief). Anyone gets a threatening phone call, anyone gets a bruise from someone that says they care about them, all anyone I care about has to do if someone is so much as slightly considering harming them is say it to me and I'll be there. To put this shit succinctly, if anyone decides to make you're life uncomfortable, I'm going to give them a Napalm Enima. Similar in nature to how amonia and bleach don't mix. By themselves they aren't exceptionally painful but together their really hard to deal with. Similar things that are hard to deal with together but alone are livable include; tense necks, sprained ankles, cramps, and aching muscles. But the icing is almost over, and the cake is soon to commence, right? almost. There are things, in spite of the odd reputation that people have given me, that even I blush about. However the gravity of the situation is so strange. I can't see something which involves the kind of bond that the things mentioned would take, causing me anything apart from stress. Yet the double standard to it is that I wish that there was a way that I could see to it that a parallel of the aformentioned fusion would occur so that I knew that the 'issue' in question was drawn to a reasonable conclusion. Moving on though we come to the cake. The cake is that I wept recently, tears like that of a monsoon. Tears that seared the flesh on my face and though they have been removed I feel sizzling steam still curling off of my cheeks. There is an inevitable end that I trained myself to deal with and overcome. However I didn't have the foresight to see how the things I wanted most in my life would impact that conflict. To my remorse I felt the ephemeral surface only last night. Like my own nightmare bunny save that when my eyes opened it wasn't me- and worst of all I could not stop. To me I would take an hour and willingly do it again, likewise i would take 10 years and do it again- but when it falls to its final moment there will be nothing left.
All of this stuff, these bits of paper I try to collect, these words I seem to gurgle out, these pointless exercises in futility and diversion- they mean nothing then. I'm not talking about when I die here. What I'm saying is that when the time comes for the brillance I see to at last be extinguished, I will be nothing; because I was nothing to begin with until it was there.