Can I tell you something?

I’m shy.
I know, I know… Let it sink in.
I’m normally a talkative person, at least, I was a talkative person, then I had the accident, and… well, everything kind of shifted perspective.
Everything except one aspect of my life.
Writing, it’s been the one thing I can always come back to in case anything ever falls apart of if I need to vent, because off the internet, I don’t feel very powerful.
Even on the internet, I’m not some kind of Demiinfluencer, or star, or anything like that. I’m just me.
All I have are my stories to occupy my time with, and that’s it.
Seriously.
I used to think that all I needed was a bit of luck and persistance and things would work themselves out and for a long time, that’s exactly how I thought, I’m not exactly proud of the results, but I can say that for whatever reason, I have the skillset I do, because I persisted in writing.
Maybe it’s because I have a from of control over whatever happens, or lack of control if I get too deep into the story itself?
Or maybe it’s a god complex?
You know, where you can make or break anything with a few simple keystrokes?
Authors complex, or something, outside of writing, I’m just me.
And, through a lot of self reflection, a bunch of accidents, relationships, a fuck ton of sex, and more than one time where I’ve gotten blackout drunk, or been roofied, I’ve gotten to where I am… Whereever that is.
I’ve got a lot of victories on the board, but for some reason, they don’t feel like victories, they feel like just another day, another step forward, another clank of the gears in the great clockwork of the universe.
I mean, I feel appreciated at work, and sometimes at home, and for a while, I used to feel appreciated on the internet, and in some cases I still do.

Maybe I just want someone to love now a days.
Yeah, I think that’s it.
I need someone to love, someone to come home to and talk about my day and not feel like I’m about to be over taken by some inconsequential thing.
I thought I had that with Caasi, Ashley, and Sarah, and Amy.
Amy was a sweet woman, still is. Just… I wish things had worked out with her, I was actually making real progress with her, and… I just took too long.

There it is, the thing that’s bothering me.
Things taking too long. Maybe patience, or being too patient is the problem? I need to act, need to make impulsive, but smart, decisions! I need to get out there and make short work of supposedly long decisions! I need to put myself out i nthe sun and learn to live with whatever ashes it makes of me!
But… I’m too cautious.
Ever since the accident.

Ever since the accident, survival is the only thing that matters, everything else, including finding love, is secondary…
Kinda sad.

And so the Clock Spring of the Cumulative Human Psyche Snaps loose again.

First off, yay.
Another shooting.
Just, what the utter fuck.
I mean, really, so soon after 50 people died in a shooting spree that spanned two mosques in New Zealand, some random ass hat goes on a shooting spree inside a fucking train in a Dutch town Utrecht.
No deaths so far, thank god.
Wish I had more to say on the matter, but I don’t.
Except, fuck these motherfuckers that think this shit is okay. It ain’t.
Also, I thought I had some amazing insights with that long ass title, but apparently, I have the honest to god insights of a blind chimp tazing a gimp in the sack with a cattle prod, and unironically, they’re handcuffed to each other, so trust me when I say, I feel your pain.
If you’re wondering about the title, the theory is this:

The solar system is a big fucking clock, yes, I swear, I ain’t apologizing! Lol?
Lol.
Anyways, let’s try this again!
Okay, so, think of humanity as biological, disconnected clock, with each category of human being a kind of piece in the great engine of said clock. The clock spring is the sanity level of the whole thing, and the cumulative human psyche is the clock spring that binds us all together, and, as you might have noticed at concerts, we’re kind of easilly lead in sing alongs. So take that initial example and replace singing along to crappy Nickelback songs with the potential for violence.
The looser the clock spring, the less chance there is for people to lose their shit, take bath salts, and rip their room mates heart through their asshole and eat it in the name of Cthulu to prevent the end times. The tighter wound the clock spring, the closer people are to simply losing their shit and doing the afore mentioned heart eating.
So, when the clock spring of the cumulative human psyche is wound too tightly, it snaps outwards, and whatever category of human it hits, and it takes a very specific category of human for this to happen, that person or persons will lose their shit, plan some violence, and in most cases by the end of it, take their own life.
To which I say, well fuck, less ass hats that do these kinds of things, the better.
So, the question remains, how long will this snapping out of the clock spring band take?
Well, unfortunately, its been going on for quite a while, and Donald trump getting elected, took most of the bat shit crazy momentum out of the damned thing and for two years, only stupid dumb things have happened since Donald’s absorbing most of the crazy being sent out.
So, I’m guessing this fucking thing has been going for a good ten years?
So, you’re thinking, where’s the proof?
What’s the evidence that this thing exists, even if its a theoretical metaphysical entity who’s presence is only ever felt when some crazy shit goes down?
Every mass shooting. (Large impact)
Every dumb ass Florida Man/Woman story you read. (small impact)
Every dumb ass fake anger about social media influencers (Small to medium impact)
Every fucking thing Trump has said/done/tweeted since birth (small impact, absorbs the impact)
Anything that has to do with out of the ordinary, boom, proof of the Clock Spring theory, and yeah, not the most scientific, but how can you be more scientific about some massive, theoretical, metaphysical thing in our lives?

Point being, shit be cray cray, and getting sometimes less or more cray cray, depending on what brand of cray cray we’re dealing with.

I want to tell you something, though… it might not make sense.

Shootings and the POTUS: Theorized connection of one crazy outweighing the other.

A while back, I wrote something about the socio-psychological clockspring of the psyche of the American people being wound as tight as it can possibly go, and when the rash of shootings, the most traumatic being those of Sandy Hook Elementary, where, for reasons unknown, Child Killer, as he will be referred to, stole the lives of 16 children… the numbers might’ve been a little fudged on my part. Anyways, the snap back hasn’t stopped, or slown down, in the least.
If anything, it’s gaining speed, and force in the form of donald trump, who’s own level of insanity is absorbing most of the blunt force from the socio-psychological snapback of the tail of the clock spring.
Think about it.
And no, still a very good supporter of covering him in honey and rolling him in a pile of cracked out fire ants. He may be the president, but he’s always been Donald “I like getting pissed on” Trump.
Anyways, for a minute, I want you to think about life without trump in office, without that “Shield of insanity” how many other shootings would have gone on?
how of those would be newsworthy?
The fact of the matter is, the only way I’m even remotely glad the glow in the dark fuck nut is in office, IS because the pool of potential shooters is a very small percentage of his support base, and, while this might sound crazy as there’s only been one shooting we’ve been notified about, the Pool-o-shooters is satiated, having their crazy ass idol be in office has cooled their angry, itchy trigger fingers for something more poisonous and yet somehow less lethal, Twitter arguments defending his royal annoying orange, the POTUS.
I’m not defending either I’m just saying, that without one, there’d be a lot more of the other, and without the other, we’d all be happier. But without both, there would be fucking peace on earth.

On a more serious note, the news of the Aurora Shooting didn’t really shock me, as it did remind me that no matter how high the level of crazy is, there will always be a HIGHER level of crazy.
And hwile this sounds like some kind of idiotic conspiracy theory, you have to wonder…

Hotdogs and Buns: The Evil Equal Conspiracy

Why hotdogs and hotdog buns are now equal in number, because I just can’t figure that shit out.
I swear to god, and yes I’m changing the subject, because I got bored of whatever it was I was talking about…. chimichangas or something, all I know is that I’m hungry, and easily distracted, so the fact that i’m still writing this is a fucking god send.

Unfinished Writtiness: Drafts of Posts Past

Y’know, I’ve got around five or ten half finished drafts that might never see the light of day? Not because I didn’t want to publish them, it’s just that I got distracted by games, girls, and being pissed off at Fortnite because….

Fuck Fortnite: Here’s why

I don’t know. I just really hate fortnite.
Yet I keep playing the damned thing, it’s fucking weird, the only modes I like playing are playground and creative where you just BUILD shit. That and when I fill the lobby, I always hide from the others and mislead them as to where I actually am.
Fun!
Because I don’t like losing, and the only way to win, is to fucking wait till everyone gets bored, which, believe me, is as fucking boring as you would think it is, so I try to keep myself entertained by fucking with people’s heads about where I am, and I take a RIDICULOUS amount of pleasure upon hearing their annoyed voices as for the twentieth time they ask me where I am.

By the power of Glitchskull: I HAVE THE ONE SHOT

Because let’s be honest here? I suck at playing games, hell the only reason I play open world games is to find and kill everything that I can, exploit the game mechanics and glitches and buggy areas to maximize my chances at winning, and ultimately, prove how much of a fucking one shot power whore I can be to the biggest baddies in the game based SOLELY on how well I’ve prepared myself!
Because, yes, I’ll play games the right way for a while, and theeeeeeeen I’ll get bored and just fuck around till I basically have an overpowered character.
I suck at multiplayer games, and single player games make me feel powerful.
Because multiplayer makes me feel how I do in real life, and fuck that bullshit.

You know, I might actually have ADHD… Weird, oh well.

Where art thou?

Love ends, the search begins, and a memory of a sexy Code Girl rises.

Don’t let the picture fool you, I’m now single.

there’s a slightly heartbreaking sentence.

The failing of a relationship to hold together, merely on the basis of the man’s inability to get the woman pregnant. mind you, said woman is not legally divorced, and is only legally separated.

Oh, and she had just turned 30.
So, I’m guessing, THAT’S a valid reason to break up with someone?
We weren’t trying for kids, we had talked about the possibility of kids AFTER we had gotten married, only getting married AFTER she had finalized the divorce.
Maybe she’s just looking for another baby daddy?
Yeah, I’m guessing that’s it.
Because she straight up told me that she’s passed the point of recovery and is moving forward.
Well, I’m happy to hear that, good for you!
REALLY.
Good… For YOU.
Because let’s face it folks, when a relationship ends, there’s only one real way to deal with everything, and NO… you sick little fuckers, it’s not to buy the original Kermit T. Frog puppet on Ebay and have live streamed fuck session with it, because THAT’S not what I did.
Nope, I just sat there, stonefaced, like a boss, cut to the point, when she tried repeating old arguments, I cut her off, stating plainly that we’d already talked about that. And she tried FB shaming ME.
I’ll give you a minute to laugh, because I’m laughing as well, in fact I haven’t stopped laughing about her attempt at controlling the break up like it was a fucking press release, and I straight up told her as well, “Break ups aren’t like a clothing release, you have no control over that whole thing, and since you’ve already let me know what this meeting is already about, I’ve ALREADY got the emotional part out of the way.”

I was like motherfucking Obi Wan.
“I HAVE THE HIGH GROUND ASHLEY, IT’S FOOLISH! I LOVED YOU LIKE A WIFE, YOU WERE THE CHOSEN ONE, YOU WERE MEANT TO BRING BALANCE TO THE FORCE, NOT TIP IT OT THE DARK SIDE!”

Nope, not feeling bad, I ended the relationship, i’m owning it, not letting the little twerp take that shit away from me. Because you know what? After a month and a half of absofuckinglutely nothing? I felt nothng in return, I treated her in that short 20 minute conversation, as she treated me, and it felt WONDERFUL.

She tried making the tears, and I just continued looking her in the eyes, not a tear drop forming in my own. She knew what the hell she was doing when she sent that text, and I knew what the hell it meant, so I waited a full day before reacting, because if there’s one thing I REALLY hate? It’s being left in suspense.

I’m sorry, this ain’t “Dukes of Hazard”
“Looks like them Duke boys got a notice of potential break up from Daisy, wonder how they’ll get themselves out of this one? Stay tuned and find out!”
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Fuck that bullshit. We were together for two years, and I learned a thing or two from her, always prep for the best, mehhest, and worst scenario, have things in place ahead of  time, and the let the fucking odminos fall where they may.

i’m thinking to myself the whole entire time, like, “don’t tear up, don’t tear up, don’t move, don’t react., don’t even blink. Don’t blink, you blink, and that’s when she’ll attack!” Like it’s an episode of Doctor Who and she’s a weeping angel, lmao.

i’m choosing to find the humor in this situation, because I can’t find anything to be mad aboooooout…. Yes, yes I can, one thing, always one thing. She was constantly late, she said she’d be there at a certain time, she’d never, EVER be there on time. Until the second year in the relationship, where she MAGICALLY got all the timing right.
Yay.

Small victories folks, small victories.
For some reason, she always hid me away in her room, like she didn’t want me talking to her folks, like she had already known that ANY man she’d met on Tinder was just a rebound dick, and should NEVER develop any kind of friendship with her friends or family.
bitch please, herding me is like herding twenty cats without any treats, my ass is all over the place, talking to every single person in the room if there’s something sparkly on them. Like, “Well, we’re going over there- SPARKLY THING PERSON IS HOLDING, BRB ROFLCOPTER!”

There were a bunch of things she did, small things, annoying things, things that stayed under the radar because A, those small things happened behind the smoke screen of, “It’s okay, I’ll be patient, because at the moment, I love, respect, and want to make sure she’s amazingly happy. Plus, I fuck like a mother fucking BEAST, and she ain’t NEVER finding dick like me ever again should she leave me.”

Words to live by folks, words to fucking live by. And I get it, people grow apart over time, things change, and sometimes a breakup needs to happen for those people to find their true happiness, and in the end, despite all the jokes, because at the end of the day, despite what looks like a massive, dickishly mean, asshole take down of this woman?

We were perfect together. We completed each other in so many different ways that we both honestly believed early on that it could’ve led to marriage. She laughed at nearly every joke I made, and I laughed at every joke she made, even if I didn’t connect with it. I loved her, as one would love the air in their lungs.

I loved her, her daughter, her family, her brother, and I connected well with her friends and extended family. I feel no guilt over how things ended, for a while, I understood completely, she supported me during my time in Great Lakes, sending me perfume scented letters and pictures, letters, pictures, gifts which I still keep to this day, granted, she returned the picture I made for her, bitch move Ashley, total bitch move, but, I understand the motivation for it.

We had both been thinking of ending the relationship, I just got to the finish line first. there was no breakup sex, she could’ve been offering, but I had my laptop with me, getting some work done, and I just didn’t feel like spending four minutes packing up after only being there for an hour or so.

It’s… it’s for the best, right? She’ll find someone, I’ll find someone, and those few precious memories not captured on picture or video will slowly fade away, as… as they were mean’t to.

It’s been a few weeks, and I can’t even remember what her voice properly sounds like, so… Progress, I guess?

Before we met up in person, there was another woman, just one singular meeting, mostly nonverbal. A Kirsten, Chirsten, Kristen, Christien… She was absolutely astounding, she was Caucasian, around five foot six inches, maybe taller, brown hair, cut short, buzzed on the sides, made into a small pony tail, eyes that you could REALLY fall into.
She was programming an A.I. for a hospital, she worked in the I.T. department, I think. She was wearing a white tank top, might’ve been either a C or B cup, nice body, beautiful voice, I wanted to kiss her right then and there.
I’ve always had a thing for women with tattoos, as there’s always a story behind every one, even if it was just someone liking the design.
We talked intermittently as we both worked, striking up a conversation only when we had finished the majority of our work, though, secretly, I think she might’ve been one Kim A.K.
But, that’s just a theory, a identity theory! Thanks for watching!

Kirsten sent me a text one night after Ashley and I had finished making love, she asked who that was, and i told her all about Kirsten, and she was pretty cool about it. In the text, Kirsten asked what I was up to, or if we wanted to meet up, and I apologized, that during the time we had last seen each other, I had found someone else, and that we had been going out for a few weeks. She asked for a picture, so I sent one of Ashley and I at the park during one of the days I was trying to study for the ASVAB.

I wished her much happiness in her search for the perfect guy, and she wished us much happiness and a long and healthy relationship, and outside of a few times where I sent her a ‘How’s it going?” text, I hadn’t heard back from her.

My only question for her at the moment is this:

“Where art thou?”

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