for years i'd been an avid addict and any time there was some new concoction that the kids were trying i would be far surpassing their irrelevant "I'm stoned" to reach a new type of high. a high that could put to shame hollywood in general. everyday was a fight, moving money until i could get my fix for the day. didn't matter who i had borrowed from or how much i already owed. just that for the day, i was fucked up. and hopefully all day. this lasted until i had lost almost every friend and job. then when the money ran out and i could no longer borrow, the dread set in. alomst an hour without and im freaking out, checking to see what i can pawn and begging for money, searching for change. without a job i was hopeless to becoming sober. hopeless and scared.
one night, im climbing into bed when i realize how for so long, during all my years of being fucked up i really hadn't dreamed much. this thought was both disturbing, making me question how many brain cells i had to fry for my body to just reject dreaming, and comforting, i remember dreaming being one of my favorite things about being alive when i was younger; before all the drugs.
that night i dreamed. better and more vivid than i had ever remembered. instantly this was my new addiction.
years later ive found out how to manipulate my dreams and a doctor friend into giving me sedatives to do this. with his help weve managed to rip open the fabric between the two worlds. the world of today and the world of dreams. two different realities. with two different ways of operating. i no longer have an addiction, i have a problem. with the ability to walk between these two worlds freely and the ability to manipulate dreams, i can do anything, but... my safety is no longer guaranteed. anywhere. anytime. there are some from the dreamland that would kill for this power. attempts have been made and a new way of life emerged.
Speach
we control dreaming from our side. anyother way would be an abomination. and your world could not understand or survive.
this is what they said when i was captured the first time. this is when the truth came out. the truth about our lives. that the entirety of our lives is a dream. and when we sleep, that's reality, that's when you're really awake. that's what they don't want you to know.
Friday, December 2, 2011
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Forest scene in Shades.
*Had just walked further into the forest; after stomping out the fire, heard someone was near in a carriage of some sort, or something drawn by animal; and from on the outside they might see him that close to the edge of the treeline.
Abomination, that's what I am, That's what Ive tried to show people I'm not, and by some freak cause of magically mistake identity, literally speaking, that's still what people believe.
Jasper quickly stopmed out the fire and grabbed his staff, shoving the rest of his goods in the nearest bush. By the time he was done the tendrils of smoke still drifting from the dying fire pit were loosing life; stretched almost too thin before reaching Jaspers nostrils but apparent none the less when coupled only with the sweet air of forest moss and honeysuckle.
In his haste, what evidence he'd destroyed he hoped would be enough to throw any followers off his trail. The sound of the carraige was still far off enough he would make great distance leaving now so he did,and at a quick stride,into the forest without any light but the pale blue glow from the top of the bastian staff, though quite dim now; it's as if it knows to be cautious. A half hour later Jasper found the trees to be growing as thick as his thoughts.
"I didn't even want to come into the forest, and now I'm in the middle of it!"
Forced to move slower, Jasper made well aware of his surroundings and any sounds within earshot. The carriage, far off now; still audible, although without any tell of whether it's coming or gong now.
The air is chilly and somehow solid or crisp with a hint of holiday about it.
It didn't matter how many times jasper told himself that holiday's like christmas or halloween don't exist in [[[TITLE ]]] anything, as subtle as a faint scent or as obvious as a place, his memories are still from another world. A mist, ethereal and pouring in, quickly enveloped the surrounding trees; even at midday the mist was more like smoke and thicker and than that of the campfire.
The surrounding area at first had seemed lively, Jasper hadn't seen any animals but since leaving the campsite the thought that something was just beyond his peripheral kept bothering him. Now, everything is subdued and accompanied by a profound silence. Other than his own breathing and strides, which had both become faster, Jasper moved silently; and carefully, acutely aware of the fog and it's curling tufts as it began to mingle with his legs.
In the darkness of the forest, the Bastian Staff began to grow brighter with Jaspers rising fear. Off to his left, the staff's light reflected off the sticky sap from a stump in the ground
The stump was perfect, pristine, cut impossibly level and at first touch felt cool and moist; as if recently chopped down. The area closest to the stump is untouched though; there's no evidence of anything being dragged from this place. Right next to the odd stump fresh grass grew and a few preposterous flowers were in bloom all around as well. "Absurd," Jasper thought, "Mysteriously growing indeed; there isn't enough light penetrating the forest canopy to permit this kind of growth."
Sleep had been filling jasper's eyes since he stopped running, overwhelming him with tearful sticky eyes. Carelessly afraid, nothing mattered. The rooty stump, inviting now, seemed to call Jasper's name from somewhere deep within the hollow. "It's got to be in my head" persuasion came easily and he sat, proped up on the root with his head leaned back looking up through the trees seeing random stars between the leaves. the blinking became hypnotic lulling him to sleep. But sleep never came. Laying there, completely relaxed he stayed in between being awake and asleep. conscious and yet unable to move arms or legs. The Bastian Staff lay right out of reach and other than rolling his head side to side there is nothing he can do. With what he could see through blurred vision, the fog moved as if alive.
The breathy coolness of the fog chilled to the core, moving rapidly around him. Fingers of mist came searching, crawling through the otherwise still air; long stems the mist guided by etherealy moving arms
The Bastian Staff.
left by the ancestors.
a museum curator, that works closley with old artifacts, restoring them to their true state.
Abomination, that's what I am, That's what Ive tried to show people I'm not, and by some freak cause of magically mistake identity, literally speaking, that's still what people believe.
Jasper quickly stopmed out the fire and grabbed his staff, shoving the rest of his goods in the nearest bush. By the time he was done the tendrils of smoke still drifting from the dying fire pit were loosing life; stretched almost too thin before reaching Jaspers nostrils but apparent none the less when coupled only with the sweet air of forest moss and honeysuckle.
In his haste, what evidence he'd destroyed he hoped would be enough to throw any followers off his trail. The sound of the carraige was still far off enough he would make great distance leaving now so he did,and at a quick stride,into the forest without any light but the pale blue glow from the top of the bastian staff, though quite dim now; it's as if it knows to be cautious. A half hour later Jasper found the trees to be growing as thick as his thoughts.
"I didn't even want to come into the forest, and now I'm in the middle of it!"
Forced to move slower, Jasper made well aware of his surroundings and any sounds within earshot. The carriage, far off now; still audible, although without any tell of whether it's coming or gong now.
The air is chilly and somehow solid or crisp with a hint of holiday about it.
It didn't matter how many times jasper told himself that holiday's like christmas or halloween don't exist in [[[TITLE ]]] anything, as subtle as a faint scent or as obvious as a place, his memories are still from another world. A mist, ethereal and pouring in, quickly enveloped the surrounding trees; even at midday the mist was more like smoke and thicker and than that of the campfire.
The surrounding area at first had seemed lively, Jasper hadn't seen any animals but since leaving the campsite the thought that something was just beyond his peripheral kept bothering him. Now, everything is subdued and accompanied by a profound silence. Other than his own breathing and strides, which had both become faster, Jasper moved silently; and carefully, acutely aware of the fog and it's curling tufts as it began to mingle with his legs.
In the darkness of the forest, the Bastian Staff began to grow brighter with Jaspers rising fear. Off to his left, the staff's light reflected off the sticky sap from a stump in the ground
The stump was perfect, pristine, cut impossibly level and at first touch felt cool and moist; as if recently chopped down. The area closest to the stump is untouched though; there's no evidence of anything being dragged from this place. Right next to the odd stump fresh grass grew and a few preposterous flowers were in bloom all around as well. "Absurd," Jasper thought, "Mysteriously growing indeed; there isn't enough light penetrating the forest canopy to permit this kind of growth."
Sleep had been filling jasper's eyes since he stopped running, overwhelming him with tearful sticky eyes. Carelessly afraid, nothing mattered. The rooty stump, inviting now, seemed to call Jasper's name from somewhere deep within the hollow. "It's got to be in my head" persuasion came easily and he sat, proped up on the root with his head leaned back looking up through the trees seeing random stars between the leaves. the blinking became hypnotic lulling him to sleep. But sleep never came. Laying there, completely relaxed he stayed in between being awake and asleep. conscious and yet unable to move arms or legs. The Bastian Staff lay right out of reach and other than rolling his head side to side there is nothing he can do. With what he could see through blurred vision, the fog moved as if alive.
The breathy coolness of the fog chilled to the core, moving rapidly around him. Fingers of mist came searching, crawling through the otherwise still air; long stems the mist guided by etherealy moving arms
The Bastian Staff.
left by the ancestors.
a museum curator, that works closley with old artifacts, restoring them to their true state.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
The Beginning of "Ancestors" Shades of Grey background.
There was a period when they ceased to live lives of adventure. A sad period, but that's not what this is about... this, is about looking down from the turrets of a flying castle, holding your breath after inhaling clouds to taste pure sweet candy water. Or playing hide and seek with faeries and wood nymphs, who offer fairy dust for the day in return for laughter.
This is the time where feasts in the deep of the ancient elven forest, right no top of where Alexandria, Egypt stands today, would last for weeks.
(
Invitations given by most protected city, with the most prestigious of all cultures; gathered, living as an advanced and kind people. The City of Ancients.
Invitations sent out to all the most prestigious of all cultures and then to one family; chosen as the most deprived from the lowest of each city. The invitations were priceless and the punishments for taking an other's differed in each culture, all included a judge and jury, but none of the verdicts were ever pleasant. Rarely did this ever happened though, for all knew; only those with an invitation could survive walking through the "Sacrisolis Gate"
We
This is the time where feasts in the deep of the ancient elven forest, right no top of where Alexandria, Egypt stands today, would last for weeks.
(
Invitations given by most protected city, with the most prestigious of all cultures; gathered, living as an advanced and kind people. The City of Ancients.
Invitations sent out to all the most prestigious of all cultures and then to one family; chosen as the most deprived from the lowest of each city. The invitations were priceless and the punishments for taking an other's differed in each culture, all included a judge and jury, but none of the verdicts were ever pleasant. Rarely did this ever happened though, for all knew; only those with an invitation could survive walking through the "Sacrisolis Gate"
We
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Albion Spaces
Adventures in space. post end time dreams.
About a twenty something, well matured man. A Starsailor who grew up as royaly, but was shushed out of the kingdom for exhibiting homosexual tendancies at an early age of thirteen, before he was to be ushered in as the crown prince, the next heir to the throne. His declration was kept a secret and the family told their kingdom he had been kidnaped by pirates.
Mean while he grows up humble and lucky. the family he comes form are a line of royal wizards and the last line of royal wizards at that. When he was sent away his father sent out a small fleet of men and a mage master to raise him and teach him the ways of his people. while at home the king told his people that the fleet was looking for jasper and would not return until Jasper is found.
When no ammount of manly task and fighting or being a pirate changes how he feels about his love for a man, the mage master tells jasper he can never go home until the people would not accept him if he loved a man and him decided to rewrite his memories to please his father.when he does this somethig does wrong and jasper comes out with feelings of fear for anyrelationship with a man and denial of any love for a woman.
About a twenty something, well matured man. A Starsailor who grew up as royaly, but was shushed out of the kingdom for exhibiting homosexual tendancies at an early age of thirteen, before he was to be ushered in as the crown prince, the next heir to the throne. His declration was kept a secret and the family told their kingdom he had been kidnaped by pirates.
Mean while he grows up humble and lucky. the family he comes form are a line of royal wizards and the last line of royal wizards at that. When he was sent away his father sent out a small fleet of men and a mage master to raise him and teach him the ways of his people. while at home the king told his people that the fleet was looking for jasper and would not return until Jasper is found.
When no ammount of manly task and fighting or being a pirate changes how he feels about his love for a man, the mage master tells jasper he can never go home until the people would not accept him if he loved a man and him decided to rewrite his memories to please his father.when he does this somethig does wrong and jasper comes out with feelings of fear for anyrelationship with a man and denial of any love for a woman.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
shades Chp 2
"That was just weird," rubbing his head and flinging his feet to the ground jasper wanders off to the bathroom with a quick glance back at his alarm clock again, just in case. After a shower and some breakfast at home instead of the usual ambience at the coffe shop, the subway will be faster. "I guess dreaming about my incompetence makes me want to be better... Wow, just go to work. I'm sick of always being late and this just seems like a day where I would have wanted to try and do things right."
Outside the streets smelled like rain and motor oil. the sweetest outdoor smell you'll get living in the city.
The clerk at the subway entrance is in a daze. for how loud his outfit is you'd think he'd always be on his toes. The red Mohawk, ripped skinny jeans and a bright yellow trash tank, headphones so loud the song is obviously his favorite, the music can be heard from quite a distance. He's bobbing his head to my favorite song and I can't help but to smile. Kid's these days though; he barely even acknowledged that I was passing by. and based on first impressions, this kid's not going to be to worried about one person skipping fair. let alone have any knowledge of anyone doing so.
jasper always imagines that the subway cars are a row of bullets shooting by on a specific path but today there is no time for
The subway cars fill up fast in the morning. hating to be in large crowds jasper usually enters last and stands most of the way. There are 13 stops before getting off and by then a seat can usually be found right up front. Finding comfort in the reflection of the conductors door; being able to see what's all going on behind him brought a sense of relief in a busy subway car. plus he wouldn't feel compelled to ask every woman that passes by
Tunnel after tunnel of lights and platforms, fulls of paitently waiting people, waiting to be transported and dropped at the closest stop to their respected jobs. Jasper, has always loved being able to think that of himself, "respected," mostly due do his clothes he'd say. Growing up, he'd always dreamed of working somewhere that he had to dress in a suit and tie. There's just something classy about wearing a suit everyday.
as the train passes through the new york underground
empty subcar
keeps thinking he see his reflection trying to get his attention.
goes to work and back without any issues.
w
Outside the streets smelled like rain and motor oil. the sweetest outdoor smell you'll get living in the city.
The clerk at the subway entrance is in a daze. for how loud his outfit is you'd think he'd always be on his toes. The red Mohawk, ripped skinny jeans and a bright yellow trash tank, headphones so loud the song is obviously his favorite, the music can be heard from quite a distance. He's bobbing his head to my favorite song and I can't help but to smile. Kid's these days though; he barely even acknowledged that I was passing by. and based on first impressions, this kid's not going to be to worried about one person skipping fair. let alone have any knowledge of anyone doing so.
jasper always imagines that the subway cars are a row of bullets shooting by on a specific path but today there is no time for
The subway cars fill up fast in the morning. hating to be in large crowds jasper usually enters last and stands most of the way. There are 13 stops before getting off and by then a seat can usually be found right up front. Finding comfort in the reflection of the conductors door; being able to see what's all going on behind him brought a sense of relief in a busy subway car. plus he wouldn't feel compelled to ask every woman that passes by
Tunnel after tunnel of lights and platforms, fulls of paitently waiting people, waiting to be transported and dropped at the closest stop to their respected jobs. Jasper, has always loved being able to think that of himself, "respected," mostly due do his clothes he'd say. Growing up, he'd always dreamed of working somewhere that he had to dress in a suit and tie. There's just something classy about wearing a suit everyday.
as the train passes through the new york underground
empty subcar
keeps thinking he see his reflection trying to get his attention.
goes to work and back without any issues.
w
Thursday, April 14, 2011
thinking out loud
I painted yesterday, and the day before. I understand that sometimes it doesn't feel right and then nothing comes out. No picture in the final product to express what you were feeling. Because when you go to show what you feel you paint and paint until the colors run together; until nothing can be determined other than the color black. Your soul. Your thoughts. But then... how could you paint anything other? Oh, master of grey, the shining darkness. what music do they play for you? you live like a man whose been ruled by 'the faith' his entire life. Somewhat like me but I, I at least think out loud about not knowing what I have going on in and around. Proudly I freely live or at least try. And when that question arises about 'what to do' or 'what do you do?' Tell them, you live. A color a day. Absent a color a day.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
when I was dumb
I'm just your average guy. Really I have ambitions and dreams and a life to lead by someone Else's standards. Getting by in 2011 is easy you get a job or hold onto the one you have with fear and then you excel in every area in the store or business you work in, at least that's what I did. Denton, Tx. lovely place really. Kind of place that even when you are used to it you hate it. you love it but are constantly run over with boredom. There is nothing to do here besides work unless you go to the university. When i moved out here was the last time i left my parents house, the last time i would have to say good bye from the threshold of that familiar door in good spirits, parents crying and dad with his advice. my sister and her husband who finally approves of me. my nan who will love me forever and my mom... still crying but now with a flip of her hair she looks strong and confident again. she;s really okay and actually happy for me because she knows her son and knows he will be safe and responsible.
That's a bunch of bullshit... That... never happened.
two and a half years ago i was living on whomevers couch i would be allowed on. i was persona non grata at my parents place. you know if you fuck someone over too many times they begin to see that pattern. I'm persistent though. always begging for their attention, shadowed earlier in life by my sister. a true original is what i think of her. sometimes i think shes better off with her reputation in tack. people think shes stupid or ignorant and she plays that part but i know better. shes a better person than anyone really knows. A real bitch. Later though once she had grand kids to pass around at the dinner table she felt it. what i felt most of my life. only now she set with a smart husband and financial stability enough to smack even the daring-est of people to try and sweep their happiness away. He's a jerk. At least when I was teenager he was, now our relationship at best could pass as an allowance of presence depending on how many drinks either of us has had.
my parents. god love them! growing up my mom would tell my sister and i any time we had a headache the it was cancer. We'd scream and run around laughing headaches gone and lovable mom just amused. i used to think, alone in my room, about how to surprise them with gifts and parties. the feminine influence in my life as a child was brimming. barbies and dress up, those were my games. i even remember the first time i fooled around with my best friend. the boy down the street. my mom caught us in the bathroom we we're terrified that we had be caught having sex at age 8. immediately this boy was sent home and my epic tragedy of a lifetime of one night stands and failed relationships began.
.............................................................
But all of this goody good stuff with myfamily would end once i was in my teens. at fifteen as a favor to a friend whom to this day i feel our friendship started out as me befriending him, kind, to say the least..., none of the other youth group members at our church liked him and i barely fit in, he had an extremely overdone terrible acted crush on mysister and she hated him. I loved my sister and watned nothing to harm her therefore he was now my friend. I gave him what he wanted and he left my sister alone. but as we grew our relationship became more of a blackmale. my sister was still getting her protection but now, after many unhappy years together; five really, ( a long time in adolescent years, you know, when dramatic events suddenlyl bring about the end of the world. that kinda thing. ) Kyle didn't want to give me up... at all.
When my family moved to rowlett i wanted to start over. I know, at age 10 what would you have to be starting over from. but elementary was rough. i never wanted to go to school. jimmy keller, the school bully and my darkest crush. (i think he knew and just didnt understand.) i guess neither did i really. i tried to dodge him every day and then each year but every time i walked throught the doors at Vial Elementary I wanted to die. Sometimes i have deams where i am on the playground and there is nobody else, until i notice the man at the far end of the yard. not really a man just a presence, a scribbled shadow, projected to haunt me throughout any elementary school memory. Or the "im in a three story house being whipped around by a tornadoe in the school parkin lot." I never understood that one.
moving away from that school and to a new town really fucked shit up. i could have been okay with letting the bullies i know continue their pushing and shoving but I got a new school and even bigger bullies just one town away instead.
I had already said goodbye to my very first, i guess you'd call him a boyfriend, but none the less leaving him was hard. But with all the drama set in stone from our past moving seemed easier. i was had already wished that we had never been caught in the bathroom and sometimes that we'd never met, but this was my chance to start over.
The one thing I remember about that place is the last time that i was supposed to spend the night at brian's house. living right down the street our parents were only slightly worried when we weren't home. Before the sun had even set and right when we were getting ready to go to his house my sister walks in to find us actually playing cops and robbers or something stupid. The only time we actually weren't doing anything.
we both start after her as she runs through the house and out to the front yard where our mom's are standing, screaming, "they're doing it again" I just stand there and take it. By this time, i'm used to it; nobody would believe me anyway.
so when we moved I really thought, really believed things would be different. An they were for a while. I blended in enough to not get into any fights and only got picked on at the bus stop where my sister would fend the guys off for me.
That's a bunch of bullshit... That... never happened.
two and a half years ago i was living on whomevers couch i would be allowed on. i was persona non grata at my parents place. you know if you fuck someone over too many times they begin to see that pattern. I'm persistent though. always begging for their attention, shadowed earlier in life by my sister. a true original is what i think of her. sometimes i think shes better off with her reputation in tack. people think shes stupid or ignorant and she plays that part but i know better. shes a better person than anyone really knows. A real bitch. Later though once she had grand kids to pass around at the dinner table she felt it. what i felt most of my life. only now she set with a smart husband and financial stability enough to smack even the daring-est of people to try and sweep their happiness away. He's a jerk. At least when I was teenager he was, now our relationship at best could pass as an allowance of presence depending on how many drinks either of us has had.
my parents. god love them! growing up my mom would tell my sister and i any time we had a headache the it was cancer. We'd scream and run around laughing headaches gone and lovable mom just amused. i used to think, alone in my room, about how to surprise them with gifts and parties. the feminine influence in my life as a child was brimming. barbies and dress up, those were my games. i even remember the first time i fooled around with my best friend. the boy down the street. my mom caught us in the bathroom we we're terrified that we had be caught having sex at age 8. immediately this boy was sent home and my epic tragedy of a lifetime of one night stands and failed relationships began.
.............................................................
But all of this goody good stuff with myfamily would end once i was in my teens. at fifteen as a favor to a friend whom to this day i feel our friendship started out as me befriending him, kind, to say the least..., none of the other youth group members at our church liked him and i barely fit in, he had an extremely overdone terrible acted crush on mysister and she hated him. I loved my sister and watned nothing to harm her therefore he was now my friend. I gave him what he wanted and he left my sister alone. but as we grew our relationship became more of a blackmale. my sister was still getting her protection but now, after many unhappy years together; five really, ( a long time in adolescent years, you know, when dramatic events suddenlyl bring about the end of the world. that kinda thing. ) Kyle didn't want to give me up... at all.
When my family moved to rowlett i wanted to start over. I know, at age 10 what would you have to be starting over from. but elementary was rough. i never wanted to go to school. jimmy keller, the school bully and my darkest crush. (i think he knew and just didnt understand.) i guess neither did i really. i tried to dodge him every day and then each year but every time i walked throught the doors at Vial Elementary I wanted to die. Sometimes i have deams where i am on the playground and there is nobody else, until i notice the man at the far end of the yard. not really a man just a presence, a scribbled shadow, projected to haunt me throughout any elementary school memory. Or the "im in a three story house being whipped around by a tornadoe in the school parkin lot." I never understood that one.
moving away from that school and to a new town really fucked shit up. i could have been okay with letting the bullies i know continue their pushing and shoving but I got a new school and even bigger bullies just one town away instead.
I had already said goodbye to my very first, i guess you'd call him a boyfriend, but none the less leaving him was hard. But with all the drama set in stone from our past moving seemed easier. i was had already wished that we had never been caught in the bathroom and sometimes that we'd never met, but this was my chance to start over.
The one thing I remember about that place is the last time that i was supposed to spend the night at brian's house. living right down the street our parents were only slightly worried when we weren't home. Before the sun had even set and right when we were getting ready to go to his house my sister walks in to find us actually playing cops and robbers or something stupid. The only time we actually weren't doing anything.
we both start after her as she runs through the house and out to the front yard where our mom's are standing, screaming, "they're doing it again" I just stand there and take it. By this time, i'm used to it; nobody would believe me anyway.
so when we moved I really thought, really believed things would be different. An they were for a while. I blended in enough to not get into any fights and only got picked on at the bus stop where my sister would fend the guys off for me.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Joyriding
When utter realization sets in I know for sure that there still is hope; my life isn't over because I suck at finances, I'm not dying of cancer regarding every headache I've ever had and maybe, just maybe it is a little easier for some to love others... regardless of who they are.
My name is Bastian. I live like a new age nomad. Stealing from the rich and keeping for myself. I hate who I am and hope I die soon. No this isn't dramatic, and no, I'm not suicidal and as much as I wish I had magic powers to fix all my problems. That never seems to work. I just feel like life would be better for everyone else if they only had to miss me one more time
I don't know how many hours I've spent writing about wizards, magic and star-sailors. Fantastical stories about their lives. Moralistic stories that touch you like a good piece of jazz during a late night cruise through the city. I am a writer, or so I have been told. But if that's how its goes I am also a chameleon, a thief, gay and a journeyer. Which have all been true. I have friends. I only have a few though, that I could say really trust me, Only a few though. Burned the rest of the bridges. Some purposely some... not so much. Growing up my own parents didn't even trust me and then my sister followed suit. Do you know what it feels like to loose that luxury? To find out your support has left you to fall in on yourself, rolling over and over in your own web of lies, sucking life from those around you just to feel some sense of worth. A pitiful black hole.
So I left. It's been a while. I've seen the world and nothing compares to the life I used to have before I lost everything. It's not like I killed anybody. I did have a family, I wasn't just immaculately conceived. But I hurt them all; I shit all over their trust and gave it back. It would have seemed that I just didn't want their help. Not true. Most of what I do I have no control over. Which is why I had to leave. Nobody believed me. Nobody would help me. So to stop. I left and hurt them one last time.
When I say I have no control what I mean is shut the fuck up and pay attention cause this is confusing. I have no conscience. You think this sounds weird? Just wait... I have two personalities. Not I am not psycho. Just different, like I was supposed to be twins but never split. This person right now. I am the left part of our brain. I am the writer, lover, artist and dreamer. I am the stability or the idea of stability in our head. my other half... he's everything else. The way we work, well to put it plainly which ever side of our brain has to be used for whatever functions we are focusing on that's who deals with it essentially. Then from there it's decided whichever of us has more emotion of I guess whichever side of our brain is firing more synapses, that's who gets control of the body. We are a writer because I am more passionate about writing than any job my other half could find. He doesn't complain because he gets to use my money, and I make good money.
money isn't everything but he likes to spend it
My name is Bastian. I live like a new age nomad. Stealing from the rich and keeping for myself. I hate who I am and hope I die soon. No this isn't dramatic, and no, I'm not suicidal and as much as I wish I had magic powers to fix all my problems. That never seems to work. I just feel like life would be better for everyone else if they only had to miss me one more time
I don't know how many hours I've spent writing about wizards, magic and star-sailors. Fantastical stories about their lives. Moralistic stories that touch you like a good piece of jazz during a late night cruise through the city. I am a writer, or so I have been told. But if that's how its goes I am also a chameleon, a thief, gay and a journeyer. Which have all been true. I have friends. I only have a few though, that I could say really trust me, Only a few though. Burned the rest of the bridges. Some purposely some... not so much. Growing up my own parents didn't even trust me and then my sister followed suit. Do you know what it feels like to loose that luxury? To find out your support has left you to fall in on yourself, rolling over and over in your own web of lies, sucking life from those around you just to feel some sense of worth. A pitiful black hole.
So I left. It's been a while. I've seen the world and nothing compares to the life I used to have before I lost everything. It's not like I killed anybody. I did have a family, I wasn't just immaculately conceived. But I hurt them all; I shit all over their trust and gave it back. It would have seemed that I just didn't want their help. Not true. Most of what I do I have no control over. Which is why I had to leave. Nobody believed me. Nobody would help me. So to stop. I left and hurt them one last time.
When I say I have no control what I mean is shut the fuck up and pay attention cause this is confusing. I have no conscience. You think this sounds weird? Just wait... I have two personalities. Not I am not psycho. Just different, like I was supposed to be twins but never split. This person right now. I am the left part of our brain. I am the writer, lover, artist and dreamer. I am the stability or the idea of stability in our head. my other half... he's everything else. The way we work, well to put it plainly which ever side of our brain has to be used for whatever functions we are focusing on that's who deals with it essentially. Then from there it's decided whichever of us has more emotion of I guess whichever side of our brain is firing more synapses, that's who gets control of the body. We are a writer because I am more passionate about writing than any job my other half could find. He doesn't complain because he gets to use my money, and I make good money.
money isn't everything but he likes to spend it
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