A heart-to-heart · 6:30am May 22nd, 2014
Yeah... that thing.
I suppose it has been a good five months since I last updated. Going on six. Yup, that's been quite the gap between chapters.
I just deleted the sentence "Want to know why?" because that makes it sound like I have an excuse, and I really don't. People have probably unfaved because of my excessive absence not just towards that fanfic, but writing in general. Ever since my last published story Apprivoiser, the only real writing I got done and published was a 3-4K little piece that went into my scrapbook collection concerning a doctor no one remembers.
I don't want to excuse my absence, but I will at least explain it. Since last year, time between chapters kept on increasing due to an increasingly persistent case of me stopping to care about anything really. My dad died, along with two cousins, my great grandmother, and several great aunts. I remember the last the last conversation I had with my dad only because it was the last one, not because of what we said. He was dropping me off at my crummy apartment I had last year. We had just finished an across-state trek to see my great grandmother because she was in the hospital. We visited that pizza place out by Lake Michigan and I was "this" close to finishing the largest pizza they had all by myself. I remember while we were in the hospital and a mentally challenged man saw my dad's lumberjack beard and said "Shave!" God we laughed our asses off.
I don't remember anything about what I said when he dropped me off. Or what he said. My brother and mother were there two. Can't recall anything they said either, if any. I don't even remember if my brother was there; we might have dropped him off before me. It's things like this that have turned me into an angry asshole over the last year. Yes, the Protean Effect made a shy, introverted guy into a polite conversationalist. After last year, I am such a goddamn asshole. Yeah, I may seem nice in the comments, but have you seen me anywhere else on the site? After I stopped updating?
I can't remember anything about that night when I last saw my dad. I faintly remember something about shoes and a Valentine's Day card from my mom, but that's it. Bam, just like that, and someone I knew for over 20 years is gone. It wasn't even a month after my birthday, and my dad and I had the same birthday. Then went my great grandmother soon after, and a slew of other soon afterwards. It got so commonplace it took months for the cards to stop coming.
Just last week, another one is gone. One of my great aunts. We all called her Sis. But you want to know the worst thing of all? The thing I noticed was becoming a recurring trend since early last year? I didn't care. I got a call that someone I knew since god knows how long was dead, and for the life of me, I didn't give a single fuck. How jaded am I? Goddamnit.
I was thinking I was going to type something along the lines of you never know when it's too late or some crap like that, but it turned into this. Hell, I was going to try to be collected here and give my two reasons, but I don't have it in me. I'm halfway through a rant, might as well get it out of my system. This all might sound like some emo bullshit rantings, but I cannot bring myself to care. Congratulations, this is me, you're reading my thoughts stream of conscious and onto the page. So much death in the family, it just become a trend, something to adapt to. I've numbed myself from caring about anything. Bullied in grade school and high school, literally fourteen goddamn friends of mine moved away over the course of those twelve years, I instinctively distrust everybody as a result because that left me in a school full of assholes I hated, and now this bullshit in 2013 has finally caught up to me.
After all of last year, that stupid fucking year, whenever I wake up or fall asleep with a gDoc or word processor burned into my retina, I cannot bring myself to write. I'll stare at the screen all goddamn day, and like what I felt after I got that call last week and found out a stroke fucked over a family member, I just didn't care. It's not that I don't want to, it's just I can't find any enthusiasm or muster any real drive to write. I'm averaging about 1K a week, and that's running across everything in my gDoc folder, not just Minecraft. Sure, I might get the occasional perk or idea, but after I've tapped out that particular scene or idea, I've got to shovel that onto the pile of apathy as well.
It's such a terrible feeling, liking something and not being able to do it. You see, writing fanfiction and reading are the only two things that kill time for me. I already hate humans with the tenacity of the Borg due to high school, but this was something I liked, and now I'm too depressed to even do that. I want to write, I really do, because it makes the world not seem so shitty for just a few hours I spend tick-tacking away on the keyboard. I didn't do anything after I got into college, and this has been one of the few things that I actually liked to do. People responded and took interest. I've been very emphatic with why I don't like my Minecraft story that much, but it has over 1,000 likes and favorites! That's awesome.
It is horrible, knowing I could once do something people truly enjoyed, and then not being able to do it for very stupid reasons. It's all there, in my head. All those ideas are still there, yet I can't grab anything and force it onto the page. It's not that I don't want to do it, it's that I've lost something I wanted to do. It feels like a weakness that I can't quite purge. All I have are these half-completed thoughts, taunting me every time my computer boots. Just look at all this crap:
Chapter 33: Ballad of the Broken King
Sweetie Belle’s room held the same dry musk that clung to the less clean portions of the Carousel Boutique. Intense OCD concerning particular topics, especially cleanliness, was one of the side effects of running a textile business. Bolts of cloth had to be kept immaculate. Rarity always counted on Sweetie being able to clean up after herself. Apparently she neglected to do so after the past two weeks of excitement.
“About what, Sweetie?”
Sweetie sat on her haunches. Being so small, she was hardly a force of presence to content with, but her light green eyes had frozen over. The filly was normally asleep at this hour. Even if she wasn’t, she’d be bouncing off the walls until Rarity managed to discover some manner of exhausting her bottomless and remarkable well of energy. Now, however, she was cold, contained, and most disconcerting of all, not talking like her beloved little sister.
The crusader tilted her head to the side as a smile curved across her lips. “I suppose I should dispel such a predisposition.” Certainly not how Sweetie spoke. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Brimstone.”
Rarity’s magic enveloped her horn in a soft light. With a light click, the door behind her closed, leaving the filly and mare together alone. The latter scrutinized the former, the same ghost of a smile stuck to her lips. “So you are the one who rescued dear Fluttershy.”
“Indeed. Although I am curious as to how you deduced that fact.” Lightning flashed once again, throwing more shadows across Sweetie’s room. Her bedsheet was crumped. So she had slept in it recently. Curious...
“I didn’t.” Sweetie, or Brimstone, blinked in surprise. “I know it now, however.”
Rarity stepped further into the bedroom. Brimstone’s eyes never left her as she walked to the little bed tucked against the wall. An aged and unremarkable nightstand was filled with little baubles the filly had collected over the years, but Rarity paid none of them any mind. A lamp occupied the center of the nightstand and the room was bathed in a dim glow after she tugged on the string. She put a hoof on the bedsheet. It was still warm to the touch.
“What have you done to my sister?”
Brimstone nickered softly. Rather than the adorable pout that normally graced her face, she just snorted in irritation. “Precious little. I merely borrow her whilst she slumbers. Rest assured, she is well, and asleep. She is not even aware of this conversation.”
“So that leaves the question: what, pray tell, do you wish to talk about, Brimstone.”
Rarity sat down next to the nightstand. The light danced across her curls and perfectly groomed coat. Brimstone moved to the opposite end of the room and sat back down. “Plenty. I have avoided this conversation for as long as necessary, but the time has finally come where such procrastination would prove counterproductive. Era’doth is coming, this time for you and your friends.”
“Home sweet home in the City of Night. What the hell Magnasanti?” City of Night. What moron started that name? Even without the dual moons circling above, the clouds were still tinted orange with city lights. Despite it being ten at night and the radiant moonlight shielded behind walls of clouds, the City of Night was better off being called the City of Light. Solar powered streetlights guided the technician’s eyes left and right. Past the employee and guest parking lots was the—shockingly—empty highway and skyway. Normally vehicles would be loading the hard road and skyways with traffic, but here they were, empty and silent.
Deciding standing under the overhang wouldn’t get her any closer to home, the technician did her best to maneuver from overhang to canopy, to cubby. Home was close enough to not bother with getting her own car, yet far enough to take some effort. “Catching a tube is gonna be tough enough wading through this,” she sighed and rolled her eyes at the heavens. Raising a thin, dainty hand to brush the hair plastered to her face behind her ears, she finally set off on the dark streets. Well-lit as they were, they were still dark. Dark in the worst possible way.
Corporate offices, R&D research centers, and pyramid-shaped arcologies thrust from the hard concrete, steel, and stone ground; that was the norm as she exited the monolithic shadow of her corporate workspace and parking lot. Hiding between each titanic building was a billion points of light. Gray was an omnipresent hue, despite the steady trickle of people she saw after leaving work.
Blacks, grays, whites, reds, blues, and everything in between. Simply too many colors to count. People were ducking their heads and running for cover just like her to escape the sudden, inexplicable downpour. Stopping at an intersection to wait for a passing vehicle was a balding man in an immaculate business suit. Unlike her and many others, this one had the foresight to bring an umbrella. She still thought that the umbrella was not for him, and was used to keep the suitcase cuffed to his wrist dry.
Luna is a master of the stars, but the sky is nothing like seeing them yourself. Trixie, on the dawn of Equestria’s maiden voyage into interstellar travel, boards the ship in order to be the first real magician humans have ever seen.
Human territories are a far crueler place than she had ever anticipated. and they have just been through some pretty tough times. Flat broke and rejected by yet another crowd not interested in her act, she prepares to return home. She is stopped by a man offering her a job. Not an act, but a job that would greatly benefit from Trixie’s theatrical skills. The man promises danger, shadowy governments, and all the wealth she could ever ask for. All she needs to do is accept a job and run with the Shadowrunners.
“Why are you over there, shielded by strongarms?”
“I am afraid recent events compel me to do so, Miss Rarity. Do you remember what happened after you entered the basement?”
“I am afraid I don’t see what that has to do with the matter at hoof, Fancypants. Who are they?”
“Rest assured, your questions will be answered, but not all can be by me. Now listen, I am here to comfort you to the best of my ability. Those at the dance have been given the excuse that you have taken ill and I have spirited you away to tend to an ailing lady’s needs. I do not want to scare you or anyone. You may not believe them,” indicates guards, “but do you believe me? Do you trust me?”
“...yes I do.”“Good to hear! Now, do you remember what happened?”
Description: SCP-616 is a book bound by what is now identified as filly vellum. The book contains exactly one hundred two pages (102) pages, each crafted from cured colt and filly leather. All script is inked in low-oxygenated equine blood. Forensic analysis of the text reveals it to be quilled by an item with an unusually thin point. The book cover itself is unremarkable, save for the text “101 Recipes for Cupcakes” cut into the leather by some sharp instrument in a very jagged script. No table of contents, appendix, publishing house, or author name is present on any page.
ZomZom: Who let in the newbies?
Captain Chaos: This is my Haven. I changed the settings to let in some new blood. I’ll know if there’s anyone in here who’s not supposed to be.
Adam: I’m a mechanic, ZomZom. Automotives, cybertech, engineering, blueprints. I do it all.
Eve: I help.
MrOrion: Zombie doesn’t like new faces. He’s like our cranky, racist grandpa.
ZomZom: You’re older than me.
Bone Collector: We still love you.
> Bone Collector
Transmitting to ZomZom: June 12, 3043
Posting includes 1 MP of attached filesZomZom: That better not be porn.
MrOrion: Tee hee.
ZomZom: Damn it. You’re gonna pay for this.
Captain Chaos: What are you, Bones? Twelve?
All of that was produced on the slightest whim, whatever little tiny idea that might have scrapped against the walls of my brain. All of it unfinished. It comes back to the fact that I have lost my ability to care about what I am writing about. I want to. I really do, but I don't know how to fix this.
I suppose I should get around to that other reason. I've calmed down a bit by now, so I might as well get on that before I fly off again. It's about this blog post. Because the original idea for the story was terrible, I had to fix some thing in the process of writing it. Brimstone is no longer Satan, the Crafter got caught, Era'doth is a lot more Cthuloid than i intended, but whatever. The point is because I had to fix some errors, that ended up creating some new ones, and I am now at the tipping point. The next chapter, The Ballad of the Broken King, is the turning point because it states what Brimstone's motivations are. This, in turn, concludes the second arc after the coming fight. The thing is, I realized the second and third arc share a lot of similarities, and I would be writing the thematically same thing again which would be confusing at best and boring at worst.
I then started thinking if I should just end the fanfic at the second arc instead. I could do it, too. All I would need to do is change one fact in the chapter after that. You see, the very first scene I scripted in the entire fanfiction happens near the end. Three characters are taking to each other. The entire story came from that scene, and that story, that stupid, stupid story, branched out from that scene.
As a villain, what I did was make Era'doth a bit more prideful, but still smarter as time moved on. Brimstone's changed, the Crafter's changed, everything's changed. I don't know if I will be able to rationalize my original ending, and that's left me in quite the bind. I can finish the second arc easy enough, but I don't know what seeds to plant for the third arc. I intended for the third arc to be short, no more than ten chapters, give or take. In short, I know where I am going, but I don't know what to do when I get there. This coupled with my earlier difficulties stated above, my problems are compounded. I not only need to go back to the drawing board, I am drained of any precious enthusiasm I have.
So that's it. That's my mind on paper, and me in a nutshell. I wish I had just the simple neuroses of Twilight; it would uncomplicate many things, especially whatever depression I may have. I'm trying to write anything just to get back into the game. I don't care what it is, but I am writing whatever I can think of, because it would be better than not writing anything at all. Otherwise I would just be sleeping all day and I have been trying to unfuck my life as much as I can. Hell, I've been scripting a Human X Pony clop. Anything I can do to get me back.
Well, now you know. I may very much regret publishing this blog entry in the coming hours and my cursor is hovering over that publish button. We'll see. If this makes you unfav or unfollow, go right ahead. Maybe you pity me, think you've misjudged me, think I'm ranting to get attention, trying to justify something, or anything in between. I want to write. I am not longer certain I am able. Death has literally drained me. That's the truth. Fav/unfav. Follow/unfollow. Do what you want.
Click.
The one thing that annoyed about this is simple.
Never assume no one cares.
Dude... Each of your followers favouriters, and genuine fans have stuck with you for a reason. Because we like you. We want to stay by your side. You may not have inspiration now, but who cares? Personally, I understand what you're going through. I lost my brother and my grandmother within the space of days. I know what it's like to just give up.
But stay in there, dude. If you need someone to truly talk to who understands... Just send me a message.
That was unexpected.
But in all honesty, I remember the story you were writing and will wait as long as it takes till the next chapter.
I'm not an editor, nor a proofreader. I can only give some verbal support.
On a side note, do a check up. Maybe you have chemical problem with brain? Depression can do that.
To be honest, I can wait. You have no obligation to publish chapters frequently or at all. Any chapter that do get published are entertainment bonus.
If I have not unfaved already(cannot remember) I will likely not
.......oh wow... Fuck man that's... shhhhhit...
I'm still surprised you just haven't said "Fuck you all, bitcheeeees!" and just stopped right there.... props to you man.
Dude... I'm just happy to see you alive, heari-reading all this stuff about this... stuff is like a bag of tasty cookies to me.
Hell... I think I have something wrong with me because it's incredibly hard for me to read certain things and concentrate at the same time... ADHD? Meh... maybe, I don't give a shit.
I like seeing you still actually caring about this whole thing enough so you can tell us about it, many people would just leave it there witch makes you ultimately better in my eyes than those many many other persons.
Oh and apparently I also jump from original purpose of written sentences to a completely different subject, ffffuck!
I meant with that ADHD thing, that even if I read this blog quite carefully repeating some parts even, I still can't quite grab it, fuckity fuck fuck.
So I want a simple answer, like yes/no/maybe/most likely/soon etc.
Is At The End still going? What I understood is that the issues are quite big but I still didn't quite grab if you are ever able to take the story and write it. I understood also that for now it's not going anywhere but it will at some point... ah fuck it just hurl an answer that you yourself have written to me and I'm fine, you add that "fuck off" too if I piss you off with this, lol.
As long as you're keeping contact with us, even with a small message, I'm fine.
Also, fuck I sound selfish. "I am" "I'm" "me mememem epåomasweklfghibhjk FUCK!!!!!"
Just slammed my keyboard... better go watch some YouTube-videos so I won't break something, haha!
luv u ♥ ;D
Getting it out always make me feel better, hope it did the same for you.
*pats on shoulder* You don't need an excuse not to update. However long it takes to deal with this, take that time plus some. It's perfectly forgivable to take years to deal with this if you have to. I lost a friend in elementary school, and it took the better part of two years to fully accept it and move on. I can't even imagine how long it would take to deal with what you've got going on right now. So take however long you need- don't feel an obligation to update, not when your life is in so much turmoil.
And lastly, don't worry- when, or even if, you decide to continue, I'll still be there.
I think it's perfectly natural. I had a grandfather who died a while back. Thing is, he was pretty much a close to a vegetable as you can get without actually being a vegetable for most of my life. My sister and I didn't cry for him. My OTHER grandfather however, we got emotional over him. He and our grandmother came down to live in our town for a couple years. We saw him a lot, we talked, laughed, and even lived together (for a little while). One day, after he dropped us off at our home, Pop left to go back to his. Sometime later that evening, his heart exploded. That was the first death that ever personally affected me. My point is, you need to have a connection, something more than "I'm related to this guy" to feel lose. I don't think you're jaded. More like emotionally drained.
As for the bullying and misanthropy... I just don't get it. (Not just you, pretty much every misanthropist) While I wasn't really bullied in high school, I was the social outcast. I was the butt of a lot of jokes. I have one person I call a friend. Same in middle school. But to me that's just people being people. Doesn't excuse them, but that doesn't mean I wall off the rest of the world. I don't know really. Maybe I just have thicker emotional skin? Or maybe I was never bullied that viciously. In my mind, you just got to get back up and try again.
As for the writing, DON'T STRESS OUT OVER IT. Fanfics are for FUN. If you're not having fun, stop playing. BUT DON'T FORGET TO TELL US IF YOU DO. Nothing pisses me off more than a writer who doesn't even have the courtesy to put his story on hiatus before taking a extended break.
Hey man. From what you typed, all I can think of is this: wow. You've been through quite a bit of shit within a short amount of time, and no one deserves to have one thing after another piled on top of them like that.
In regards to your fanfiction writing, I say take your time. Sometimes, life just feels like punching you in the gut and sucking away things from you. Considering that you're having this much trouble trying to write something, don't rush yourself. Give yourself time to sort things out and I betcha that you'll come around to being able to continue writing.
Also, I decided to favorite your story At The End when I first discovered it and read what you had completed. As far as know, it's going to stay that way. There's a reason that many of us decided to either follow you or favorite some of your stories. And I can assure you that most of us, if not ALL of us, will stay with you.
~ Super-Brony12
Whatever happens, you'll still have my support, all the what to the end. My Little Minecraft: At the End is the reason I came to FimFiction in the first place, and if a story is capable of doing that, then whether you finish it or not, you have my full support. I would still like a epic conclusion, but non the less, I hope you can recover, and regain the spark to write.
*offers hug*
There's not much I can do, and not much that hasn't been said already.
I hope you get better. I hope you feel better.
Losing someone you trust, that you care about isn't easy, and I'm sorry I don't have a way to remedy that.
Whatever you decide to do, if you ever need someone to vent at privately, always feel free to do so at me.
I hope things look up for you.
If you want to write, take your time with it, do it when you feel like it. We can wait. Especially since what you have been going through. Any words I, a stranger, try to offer are petty and have little meaning to you. While our words of solace have little meaning, just remember this, The Brony Community will always be there for you, with a kind word, an ear to listen, a bit of kindness. I know it was there for me.
On another note, I would suggest reading or listening to the poem Invictus.
I perfectly understand what you are going through. The last year and a half has been just like that for me. And I expect it to continue like it for another one and a half years.
It all started with my 14 years old golden retriever dying. He was so faithful and nice, the best dog one could ever own truly. But he had a good life, and in turn he made our lives better.
Then my greatly beloved step grandmother suddenly died of cancer just a couple of months after. So quick was she gone that I didn't even know she had died until the day after. No one even knew she had cancer damn it.
Then it was my great grandmother 4 months later. I still treasure a few memories that only we shared. Especially the memories of an afternoon spent with grandma.
Now I heard my other great grandmother (both on my mother's side of the family) just got diagnosed with cancer on top of her already worsening Alzheimer. She will be gone in a couple of months.
Also, my grandmother (on my father's side) have leukemia and I expect her to vanish within a year or two. And when she go, grandfather will probably follow shortly.
I have just stopped caring about anything at this point. Every day is just a quest to pass time from the point of waking up to the point of going to bed.
I understand exactly what you are going through. I hope you find some peace of mind soon, and are able to return to the regular pacing of your life. If its any consolation then you don't have to force yourself to write on my behalf. I have other fics I can read while I wait.
Take all the time you need. I'll still be here.
We might just be simple internet folk, but we've got your back Journeyman.
Stay strong my friend.
Don't worry bud lots of us care for ya and hope you can make it thru.
I never have had the troubles you have( probly cuz i go to a small school) but I still care for ya even though your probly miles and miles away from my town!
Cue predictable response.
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To those that stood by me, when I gave you no reason to, thanks.
I don't know what I did to deserve you all. I thank you for that. I'll give you another heart to heart, and a thank you to those who stood by my side.
It's not much, but this is all I can offer you in thanks, a peek at what's to come before anyone else.
2495378 Love you too bro. I'ma give you a hug. Don't worry. This ones from a girl. We smell nice.
*hugz*
Also, glad you're back!
2495378 Requires password
I wish you well, my friend.
2495479
Odd; I set it up so you didn't need one.
2495479
I encoded one now. Password is 'alex'
2495378
<3
2495378 No worries bud. It happens. I deal with it every... few weeks? Eh, I've gotten used to it.
Oh, and the last linked thing is password blocked. Just fyi.
2495378 24.media.tumblr.com/eff213be22e994a0311f08393610af2b/tumblr_mplxmdiSI31sul56oo2_1280.jpg
2495801 It's alex
2495818 Danke
Eh. Life is shit to you, sometimes. more than often, A lot of the times.
What is really important is endurance. What my Grandpa said to me a few weeks before he died was this.
"Ya don't have to like it, you just have to bear it, if you can do that, then you'll realize that life ain't so bad after all. Find the little things in life, always look for the silver lining. Do that, and you're golden."
2495378
Sorry for late reply.
But this is why waiting pays off and believing in strength of others do too.
*Twitches eye* Okay, I might have gone a bit overboard with saying that, but that is exactly as I feel right now. And it's somehow fits the MLP universe, friendship and all that.
And you actually did give a reason. You made a story and were going forward and onward wit it. You weren't stopping unless it was necessary.
And that is why I have faith that you will complete it. In a way you find fitting.
I would've commented sooner, but I just noticed.