The Year After We All Died But Still Lived · 3:37am Mar 24th, 2021
(Art by TjPones).
You know? When the end of the world happened I expected it to be a lot swifter than it actually was. But I guess like the real deal death comes slowly. To say last year was a turbulent time to be alive on this bitch of an Earth would be an understatement. I'm sure we all have our war stories and battle scars from the trenches of Rona. I don't think it'd be all to compelling to focus talking about. What is interesting is this year. I can honestly say it's been one of the strangest and hardest I've endured thus far.
To all of the five people, including the four in my head, who have read "Hymn For The Blind," I have already stated exactly what started my lovely year off. But I kinda want this to be an afterword as much as a standalone blog, so I'm going to follow up on it by restating what I've already said.
I'm not particular close with anyone. Anyone who knows me in real life knows that a thousand times over already and the reasons behind such, but it does lead into what I have to say next. A person who I was starting to warm up to, a family member, came onto me at the beginning of this year. Not physically. I would have ripped his nuts off and shoved it down his putrid throat, but in a creepy explaining his interest in me and obsession. Didn't even know he was stalking around me because of his disgusting lust. Needless to say I hadn't been so upset in a long time. There is tiers to anger and resentment. I'd like to say I was standing on top of a hill made of wraith at the time.
Like most of the people in my "family" I've disowned them. A kindness he doesn't deserve compared to what he certainly needs to have happened, but I digress. I can count on less than one hand all the people I actually care for in my family. The rest are just space dust taking up space in a world I've long abandoned. Those memories of childhood neglect and abuse sorta came flooding back to me in the month following. It's something I generally don't talk about, but I was physically and emotionally abused and neglected as a kid. It was my father's side of the family, where I was just used as a tool to get back at my mother.
I particularly remember an instance where I was threatened death at knife point by one of my father's friends while he stood and did nothing. Obviously because he felt nothing, but it made the closure I had with him at seventeen all the more satisfying. My last parting words weren't kind, and honestly he is the only one in this world I can say I truly hate. I don't like using that word lightly, as strong emotions like that are numb to me on most occasions. But he deserves the label. And I consider the sexual deviant I've talked about prior to be on that list, if I am being honest with myself. Despite having moved on from it, mostly, I can say that it left a big enough of an impact to make me despise them on a deeper level than afforded to most in my life.
(Art by Sorcerushorserus).
And it fit well with my story "Hymn For The Blind," as it's a story that puts to fiction the chronic nightmares I have been plagued with. They're much better now than when I started work on the story, but it was the primary inspiration for the story. But it was with such events in my life taking place I sat down to pen the final scene of chapter two of the story titled "Running Out Of Teardrops." Named after the song by "Bring Me The horizon."
It was a rape scene, a final act in Octavia's nightmares to have her succumb to the pale pony that haunts her. It was the most difficult scene I have ever had to write. Not because of subject matter alone, but because of the tone in which I had to set. Imagine writing a scene involving sex of any nature and making it hopeless and un-fetishistic? That's what I had to accomplish, and going by one of my editors who refused to edit the redraft as it disturbed him as I intended it to, I say I hit the mark.
I'm happy with it. For how fucked and disturbed as it all is I am truly happy with it. Writing for the first time since I've began to write six years ago has actually made me feel fulfilled after I leave the canvas before me. Both "Hymn For The Blind" and "Like Tears In Rain" are actually something that is meaningful to me, rather than vapid fiction for the sake of writing. The same goes for my next one-shot in the works.
If there is a light to be found in my life as of late it's the experience to put into words exactly what I want in my writing. I find that I enjoy taking experiences of mine, be them happy or sad, and turning them into a fictitious story that has something to say. I do have something to say, but never has it been so clear to me as it has been now.
(Art by Butterscotch25)
Breath it in. Let it out. So familiar now.
To all my readers you will be seeing more from me in this vein. It is a promise. I have several ideas written down I'm excited to be writing. I'm actually giddy to be writing them! Can't you see how truly wonderful that is?! Perhaps it's a depressed writer thing, but I don't find that sort of enrichment from a lot in my artwork of any kind. That was, as I said before, until recently.
Should I feel this way? I ask myself this. Should I feel this happy with my little hobbies when I'm alone in the world at large and life keeps giving me the middle finger? I'd like to believe it is okay to move past a feeling. Another cynical part of me still clings to a burning hatred to burn it all down. I don't like listening to him much. He's an asshole.
I have the suspicion the year isn't quite done with its curveballs. It doesn't take a modern day Nostradamus to predict that the world is heading down a dark path. I'd just like to cling to a positive through it all, despite all the damned hellfire around me. Internet friends help with that. I'm sure some will be reading these words of mine and know what I mean.
My writing is going to be a driving force through this all, I have a strong feeling about it. Stay tuned for updates.
Hey man, I'm always happy to hear when people take the unhappiness they feel and turn it into something productive and positive (in your case, writing). I've seen far too many people, friends included, who turn to drink/drugs/horrible relationships/etc to try and gain stability. I also like reading your stories and blogs; they're very interesting and you explain things quite eloquently.
I know I've said this a million times, but I'm always here to chat if you need it. Or just feel like talking in general, of course.
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I'm happy to hear you enjoy my rambles and writing, broski. I've always loved your commentary and companionship.
I want to write some kind of motivational comment or something like that, but can't think of anything that doesn't sound stupid or like something that you've heard a thousand times before, you i'll just say this.
If you ever find yourself in a place and time where you feel like you need to say something but don't have anyone to listen. Then i would be happy to lend you my ears to you for that reason.
Hey.
I've just started following you recently. This is the first blog post of yours I've read. I don't know you, and you don't know me.
Still just wanted to offer a touch of solidarity in the storm. I've been under that same dark cloud in my life, and still am in some ways. Any outlet you got, you go for that--and art, written or visual, can be incredible for it. Heavens knows that, with a small dose of those online connections also mentioned, kept me going to today.
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The surprising part to me is the contentment I currently feel. Despite being a bit lonely I'm not really shook to my core as you would imagine given such events happening to me. Perhaps it's from being open about it and bleeding it into my writing. Perhaps I am just becoming more resilient as time goes on. Either way, the words are greatly appreciated all the same. I do, in fact, talk with a lot of people about a lot of subjects. I think actual insanity would occur if I just let all those thoughts exist inside my head.
The joys of being a writer. We can vent our frustrations and feelings to the world with our stories. It truly is a wonderous feeling.
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It really is. It's what gives my latest writings more meaning to myself. Before there was something missing and off that I couldn't quite place, but now I am starting to see what I want to express with my writing.
Art of any kind is like that in my mind. Its an expression of the human condition we all have in one way or another. Even if it can be abstract at times.
sending hugs <3
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Hug has been received and returned.
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I'm glad to hear that mate, nevertheless. My offer will remain open until such a time comes when you feel that you should take me up on that offer.
But let's hope that that doesn't happen anytime soon, if at all, aye?
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Aye. That I can drink to.