Christopher Jay Mendall was an exceptional student. Throughout high school he was at the top of his class, always with honors and straight As. Everyone thought so highly of him.
His college years were no different. Professors loved him as their most favorite student, and his grades were always at the top of his class. He made his way through his years at college and was on his way to being a doctor.
But financial issues pegged him, as his scholarships dried up. Instead of going to the top medical school like he wanted, he was forced into a school that was barely eligible to give him a degree. They began teaching him strange techniques. Showed him how to kill patients without anyone knowing. How to operate with nothing but a box knife. How to use every day tools to fix up a patient.
They taught him old techniques that weren't used any more: leeches, cutting off the skull to let demons out, or taking someone out of their misery by putting a nail through their nose and hitting their brain.
But it wasn't until he met Dr. Frankenstein that things changed for the worse.
"I'm not sure this is going to work, Dr. Frankenstein. It seems illogical for a body to come to life after the parts have been dead. The blood can't circulate, it's been coagulated and-"
"Nonsense, Christopher. I just need to do everything just right. We can and will create a human from this."
He watched as Frankenstein assembled a body, slowly helping him stitch each part together. Every vein, artery and nerve ending- carefully placed to connect to one another. To finally piece together a human with no organs.
"Now we have to be quick about this, Christopher. I have a body coming- a fresh one- and we must quickly place all the organs in before they become useless."
"But doctor, you need a heart and if the heart has stopped beating-"
"It's why I built a mechanical heart, Mr. Mendall."
"But the blood-"
"Do you want to graduate, Mr. Mendall? Do as I say. Your research project must come to a completion and I have to sign off on it for you to graduate. Do not question my authority, or all that hard work you've done will have been useless."
He did just as Dr. Frankenstein told him after that. He waited for the fresh body to come in, brought by a shady ambulance. He brought the body in- a young adult male as he recalled, and placed it on a slab next to the creature. He reluctantly helped put the new organs in, and watched as they came to life inside the new body.
But as the last organ was put in, nothing was working.
"I told you it was impossible."
"Nothing is impossible, I just need one more element. I will return in a moment, I must crunch some numbers. My assistant will bring out the brain. You must insert it into this being."
Christopher thought it was strange that an assistant he had never heard of was there in the lab, and wondered to himself why he was there if the doctor had an assistant in the first place. But it was too soon that a small man, only around four feet tall, wheeled a cart out with a human brain on it.
Christopher did just as he was told. He put the brain into the creature. But again, nothing happened. He decided to sew the creature up and wait for something to happen. There was a pulse, indicated by machines. The stats were fine. The monitors beat with a melodic rhythm.
The lights flickered, just as Christopher was falling asleep waiting for Dr. Frankenstein to come back. To his surprise, as he opened his eyes again- the creature was sitting up on the slab. It took a deep breath, and blinked heavily. He watched as it closed and opened it's eyes numerous times.
"Hello?"
The creature looked at Christopher, but was blinded by the lights in the room like a newborn child. He watched as the monster stumbled to its feet, unable to figure out what was going on. It fell on the floor, not too hard, but hard enough for a man that was over six feet tall.
But as though its brain kicked in, the creature was on its feet and moving around blindly. It ran into machines, it knocked over the organ donor body, and made its way to a glass door to the outside that it broke through. Christopher watched as it ran off into the nearby woods.
"Dr. Frankenstein! It worked but the monster escaped!" He ran to his office, only to find a signed piece of paper that allowed Christopher to graduate. He had put in enough clinical work and was now finally a true doctor.
But Frankenstein was no where to be found and they had set loose a monster. Christopher needed to fix what it was he started. He felt the need to fix whatever it was that made this monster run off.
He chased after it, roaming the woods, obsessed with fixing what he had done. Obsessed with finding the creature.
"I must fix this. Have to fix everything." He would mumble to himself.
Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. He grew tired and weary, feeding and living in the wild. It was only after months of search that he gave up, and stumbled into a small town. They told him they had heard of such a monster, and that people had found him and killed him soon after he was first spotted.
"You're a doctor?" a man in white asked him.
"Yes. Right before I went into the wilderness I officially became one. Dr. Mendall."
"My name is Dr. Moreau. I have a job for you if you would like it, Mr. Mendall."
"Of course, of course. I would be very welcome to living here in this small town."
"We would not live here. I am simply visiting for the moment. But I have an island I work on, and you might be of some expertise of mine."
"What am I fixing?"
"Fixing? You'll be working on turning a man into a leopard."
"He wants to be a leopard?"
Dr. Moreau paused. "Yes, yes he does. A human half-breed."
"I will help him then. I can fix him." Dr. Mendall rocked back and forth in a chair, his grizzly beard a reminder of what he had done for months.
He was flown to this strange island and began working with this man. For years he did research, experimentation on his body, and eventually created this half-man half-leopard.
"You have done well, doctor. Might I interested you in doing some more work?"
"I have fixed this man. I have to fix the world and I cannot do so here. There are people who are sick out there and that's why I came to be a doctor. People who are sick and needing me."
"Very well, I have a place I can send you to then. It's a nice city, plenty of people who can come to you for a fix up."
Dr. Mendall was flown to a city he had never heard of in a place he could never recognize. Towers loomed above, and people claimed to see people who were human-bats. He set up a shop in the cheapest place he could find, and before he even opened up shop- a customer walked in.
"Can I help you?"
"I need fixing." The man said, his hand over his mouth, "A man-bat attacked me and my mouth is in so much pain. Can you fix me, doc?"
Dr. Mendall looked at the man, his hair crazy, his mouth bleeding, and his skin so pale it looked like white make-up. His outfit screamed he was a butler of some kind, with purple and green that no sane man would wear.
"Sure, I can help you." He told the man. "Everyone needs fixing."
He put the man in a chair, and let him uncover his mouth. His mouth had been slit on both sides, and had bled a lot.
"You got black eyes from this guy too?"
"No, I was going for a raccoon look," the man said laughing and making his mouth bleed. "I'm sorry- I'm a bit of a joker."
Dr. Mendall carefully began work on the man, but without knocking him unconscious he screamed in agony making the cuts bigger. It was only until the man had fell unconscious that he could attempt to sew his mouth up. But by then it was too late. The slits had gotten too big to fix. He could not be fixed.
His first patient a failure, he left his unopened office and began walking the streets mumbling to himself that he must fix everyone. Every person he looked at had a problem. Every person that walked by could be fixed.
"Fix everything." He mumbled over and over again. "Fix everything...fix everything..."
He collapsed in a pile of garbage hours later, exhausted and unable to move. When he awoke, he found himself in a small town. He began walking around, finding himself face to face with a man who kept coughing.
"I could fix you," he said to the man.
"You a doctor?"
"Dr. Mendall. I fix everything."
"Sorry, I can't go to a doctor. I have no insurance."
"It's free. I'll fix you for free. I must fix everything."
"You got yourself a deal, doc. Where's your office?"
"In this alley here..."
He took the man down the small alley behind a shopping center. There he found steps he told the man to sit on.
"Your office is a some steps?"
"For now. I should have a tent. I should have a tent to fix everything. I must fix that problem."
Dr. Mendall bent down and told the man to open his mouth. He peered in and saw his throat was red from being sore. "I know how to fix this," he said.
"What are you going to prescribe? I think it's just a cold."
"Close your eyes, this might hurt a little."
The man did as he was told. Dr. Mendall reached in his pocket and pulled a box cutter out. With it he cut the man's throat, blood going everywhere. He continued to cut through the throat, trying to cut out the area that was sore. As he did so, he saw the man had died and threw part of the throat in the trash. Looking at the man, he realized his own clothing was inappropriate. It was dirty. He took the man's white shirt and jeans, now stained with blood, and put it on himself. The naked man, his throat cut wide open, was dead. He took the man and threw him in the same nearby dumpster, walking away and down the street.
"I fixed him. He has no problems now because he's dead." He mumbled to himself. "Must fix everything. Must set up a tent. Must fix patients."
He walked into the night, looking for more people to fix- his box cutter in hand.
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
A Sudden Pit Stop
The all-night diner, famous for it's apple pie made with "real" apples and a favorite for truckers, was quiet at 3 in the morning. Only a few people, your stereotypical older blonde waitress, your slightly overweight greased up cook always with a toothpick in his mouth, and Ted- the only customer in the place who had just sat down by himself.
"Hey honey, what can I get ya?"
"Oh um, coffee. Black," he rubbed his forehead, tired and stressed out. "And um, I don't know- a cheeseburger. Nothing on it."
"You want fries with that?"
"Sure. You guys take credit cards?"
"Uh huh."
"Yeah, fries is good."
"You just come from a wedding or something? You're too old to be coming from a high school dance, and ain't nobody 'round here comes dressed all nice like that."
"Um, yeah. Wedding. Yeah."
The waitress nervously watched him, saw how stressed out he was. She walked behind the counter, over to the coffee- still using an old drip machine with glass pitchers. Grabbing the brown topped one, she began to walk back to stop at the order window.
"Hey John," she yelled to the cook, "We got an order for a naked cow with cheese and tater fingers."
John quickly walked over to her.
"That's all? Usually I get a much bigger order than that."
"This guy ain't a trucker. Look at 'im. He's got a suit jacket sittin' next to him. Drove up in a nice car."
"Probably just came from a wedding. I think they got that place down the road for weddin's."
"True. I asked him about it, must be somethin' to do with a weddin'. He's so uneasy, though."
"Give him some coffee, I'm sure he'll wake up a little bit."
She walked back over to the table, Ted now holding his head in his two hands, eyes closed, breathing steadily. Julie picked up the coffee mug, waking Ted from whatever he was in.
"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. You didn't want decaf, did you?"
"Oh uh, no. No. Thank you."
"You need sugar or anything?"
"No thank you."
"Is everything OK, honey? You seem stressed."
"Am I that obvious?"
"If you were any more you'd be an ox in heat."
"Long day," Ted nodded, "That's all."
"All that dancin' at the weddin' huh? Who was it that got married?"
Ted swallowed hard. "My uh..." he struggled to answer, "My friend."
"Best friend? College roommate?"
"Best friend. Definitely."
"Well, you must've been the best man then- no wonder you're so tired."
"I wasn't." Ted sipped his coffee.
"Oh, that's strange. Why wouldn't you be the best man? You think he'd pick you."
"She didn't really have a choice."
It was like a light bulb clicked in her head. She knew exactly what happened. He couldn't look at her, and just sipped his coffee. The only noise the sizzling of the burger in the kitchen.
"Listen kid," she said breaking the silence, "There's plenty of fish in the sea."
"No. Just don't. Please don't."
"You'll find a girl and be happy-"
"Miss, I don't know you. But you're not helping me any."
"Honey if she didn't feel that way towards you-"
"She does. Well, she did." Ted swallowed hard, "I fucked it up. Years ago. And now we're just friends. But there's never been a girl like her since. I thought I could find someone, but I never did."
"You will."
"No. Because she was the one. I know it sounds crazy, but...when I was younger I had this dream. I was about five years old and I had this recurring dream. It was this girl, beautiful girl, and she was running through a field. This girl was about ten years old, and I had this dream so many times when I was five. Just her running through this field, telling me to come on. Come on, Ted."
He could see the ten year old girl again, looking back at him. The images flashed in his head, her beckoning him to run with her.
"I thought at five years old, this girl is beautiful. I didn't even know what beautiful was, I just knew. I had this dream for months, and then just stopped. I had a few more times after that. Then one day I met Aysha. I was ten. I felt like I had met her so many times before, but I couldn't figure it out."
He sipped his coffee, still remembering the pictures.
"We were best friends and I just remember going to her grandparents house. They had this really big field, and she want to run through it- but I was afraid. My mom told me to be careful, you never know what's out in the country. But she loved it. And she beckoned me. Come on, Ted. Come on. And I realized that I had been dreaming about her. And I ran through that field with her."
His eyes stared straight ahead. He could see his past flash before him.
"She was my first kiss when we were twelve. She was my first date to the dance. She was my first girlfriend. Hell, she was...my first everything. Before her I was a shy little kid, afraid of the world. With her, I wasn't afraid of anything."
Julie stood there, waiting for more. Silence.
"So what happened?" she asked, too eager to wait for Ted to snap out of his gaze.
"We um, graduated. Stayed together during college, but were at different colleges. So it was hard. But I could never give her up. I never wanted to. But I went one time and I saw how hard it was for her. It was killing her to be away from me, more than it was me from her. And I thought, maybe if I let her go she'll be a little better. She won't stress out as much, she'll focus on her classes and then when we're out of college we can be together again."
"She found another guy..."
"Nicolas. Yeah."
"And she fell in love with him."
"Yeah. I mean, I gave her space. But I never wanted anyone but her. My buddies tried really hard, but I always thought I'd be with her again. Then she got a boyfriend, and I thought it was just to try to move on. Then the next thing I know, she's marrying some jackass who couldn't care about her like I do."
"How old are you, honey?"
"I'm 26. They got engaged two years ago. And tonight they finally got married. For the last two years, I've lived through hell. And tonight, I told her I still loved her. And she said she loved me too, but we weren't meant to be. Because she found Nicolas and loves him too."
"You've got a nice car, I'm assuming you must have a nice job then."
"Actually, that car is a rental. Bad economy has actually left me jobless. Got laid off."
"You've got family. Your brothers, sisters, cousins-"
"My parents aren't so understanding. My mom made me fear everything as a child, and my father is an alcoholic who likes to disappear to the bars most the time."
"Friends are-"
"No. Aysha is the only friend I have left. My college buddies made some choice remarks about her after we broke up, and I went off on them. They came to conclusion it was my fault, and don't speak to me now."
"Order up!"
"I'll be back with your order."
Ted was silent as Julie walked over and grabbed the hot plate.
"Is there anything else I can get you, honey?"
Ted thought for a second. "No." He paused. "Thank you."
"You're welcome. And it's on the house."
"Thank you. I appreciate it."
Julie walked to the back kitchen, stressed out from the conversation.
"So what's his case? Is he psycho?"
"Another lovestruck kid."
"Let me guess, best friend was his girlfriend he knew since he was ten and she married some douchebag. Now he's jobless and alone."
"Bingo."
"You give him food on the house?"
"Always do."
"You ever think people are gonna wander back here wondering where this place is again?"
"Wouldn't be the first time. Let's just hope his burger suits him well enough. I'm just surprised no one wonders why they're always the only one in here."
"You'd think they'd find Angel's Diner to be somewhat of an ironic name?"
"John, you know they don't read the signs. Otherwise you'd think someone would have us figured out by now."
"As long as they aren't killing themselves, I don't care if they figure us out any."
John and Julie smiled at each other, looking over at Ted. He took a bite of his burger and smiled, thinking everything was going to be OK again.
"Hey honey, what can I get ya?"
"Oh um, coffee. Black," he rubbed his forehead, tired and stressed out. "And um, I don't know- a cheeseburger. Nothing on it."
"You want fries with that?"
"Sure. You guys take credit cards?"
"Uh huh."
"Yeah, fries is good."
"You just come from a wedding or something? You're too old to be coming from a high school dance, and ain't nobody 'round here comes dressed all nice like that."
"Um, yeah. Wedding. Yeah."
The waitress nervously watched him, saw how stressed out he was. She walked behind the counter, over to the coffee- still using an old drip machine with glass pitchers. Grabbing the brown topped one, she began to walk back to stop at the order window.
"Hey John," she yelled to the cook, "We got an order for a naked cow with cheese and tater fingers."
John quickly walked over to her.
"That's all? Usually I get a much bigger order than that."
"This guy ain't a trucker. Look at 'im. He's got a suit jacket sittin' next to him. Drove up in a nice car."
"Probably just came from a wedding. I think they got that place down the road for weddin's."
"True. I asked him about it, must be somethin' to do with a weddin'. He's so uneasy, though."
"Give him some coffee, I'm sure he'll wake up a little bit."
She walked back over to the table, Ted now holding his head in his two hands, eyes closed, breathing steadily. Julie picked up the coffee mug, waking Ted from whatever he was in.
"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. You didn't want decaf, did you?"
"Oh uh, no. No. Thank you."
"You need sugar or anything?"
"No thank you."
"Is everything OK, honey? You seem stressed."
"Am I that obvious?"
"If you were any more you'd be an ox in heat."
"Long day," Ted nodded, "That's all."
"All that dancin' at the weddin' huh? Who was it that got married?"
Ted swallowed hard. "My uh..." he struggled to answer, "My friend."
"Best friend? College roommate?"
"Best friend. Definitely."
"Well, you must've been the best man then- no wonder you're so tired."
"I wasn't." Ted sipped his coffee.
"Oh, that's strange. Why wouldn't you be the best man? You think he'd pick you."
"She didn't really have a choice."
It was like a light bulb clicked in her head. She knew exactly what happened. He couldn't look at her, and just sipped his coffee. The only noise the sizzling of the burger in the kitchen.
"Listen kid," she said breaking the silence, "There's plenty of fish in the sea."
"No. Just don't. Please don't."
"You'll find a girl and be happy-"
"Miss, I don't know you. But you're not helping me any."
"Honey if she didn't feel that way towards you-"
"She does. Well, she did." Ted swallowed hard, "I fucked it up. Years ago. And now we're just friends. But there's never been a girl like her since. I thought I could find someone, but I never did."
"You will."
"No. Because she was the one. I know it sounds crazy, but...when I was younger I had this dream. I was about five years old and I had this recurring dream. It was this girl, beautiful girl, and she was running through a field. This girl was about ten years old, and I had this dream so many times when I was five. Just her running through this field, telling me to come on. Come on, Ted."
He could see the ten year old girl again, looking back at him. The images flashed in his head, her beckoning him to run with her.
"I thought at five years old, this girl is beautiful. I didn't even know what beautiful was, I just knew. I had this dream for months, and then just stopped. I had a few more times after that. Then one day I met Aysha. I was ten. I felt like I had met her so many times before, but I couldn't figure it out."
He sipped his coffee, still remembering the pictures.
"We were best friends and I just remember going to her grandparents house. They had this really big field, and she want to run through it- but I was afraid. My mom told me to be careful, you never know what's out in the country. But she loved it. And she beckoned me. Come on, Ted. Come on. And I realized that I had been dreaming about her. And I ran through that field with her."
His eyes stared straight ahead. He could see his past flash before him.
"She was my first kiss when we were twelve. She was my first date to the dance. She was my first girlfriend. Hell, she was...my first everything. Before her I was a shy little kid, afraid of the world. With her, I wasn't afraid of anything."
Julie stood there, waiting for more. Silence.
"So what happened?" she asked, too eager to wait for Ted to snap out of his gaze.
"We um, graduated. Stayed together during college, but were at different colleges. So it was hard. But I could never give her up. I never wanted to. But I went one time and I saw how hard it was for her. It was killing her to be away from me, more than it was me from her. And I thought, maybe if I let her go she'll be a little better. She won't stress out as much, she'll focus on her classes and then when we're out of college we can be together again."
"She found another guy..."
"Nicolas. Yeah."
"And she fell in love with him."
"Yeah. I mean, I gave her space. But I never wanted anyone but her. My buddies tried really hard, but I always thought I'd be with her again. Then she got a boyfriend, and I thought it was just to try to move on. Then the next thing I know, she's marrying some jackass who couldn't care about her like I do."
"How old are you, honey?"
"I'm 26. They got engaged two years ago. And tonight they finally got married. For the last two years, I've lived through hell. And tonight, I told her I still loved her. And she said she loved me too, but we weren't meant to be. Because she found Nicolas and loves him too."
"You've got a nice car, I'm assuming you must have a nice job then."
"Actually, that car is a rental. Bad economy has actually left me jobless. Got laid off."
"You've got family. Your brothers, sisters, cousins-"
"My parents aren't so understanding. My mom made me fear everything as a child, and my father is an alcoholic who likes to disappear to the bars most the time."
"Friends are-"
"No. Aysha is the only friend I have left. My college buddies made some choice remarks about her after we broke up, and I went off on them. They came to conclusion it was my fault, and don't speak to me now."
"Order up!"
"I'll be back with your order."
Ted was silent as Julie walked over and grabbed the hot plate.
"Is there anything else I can get you, honey?"
Ted thought for a second. "No." He paused. "Thank you."
"You're welcome. And it's on the house."
"Thank you. I appreciate it."
Julie walked to the back kitchen, stressed out from the conversation.
"So what's his case? Is he psycho?"
"Another lovestruck kid."
"Let me guess, best friend was his girlfriend he knew since he was ten and she married some douchebag. Now he's jobless and alone."
"Bingo."
"You give him food on the house?"
"Always do."
"You ever think people are gonna wander back here wondering where this place is again?"
"Wouldn't be the first time. Let's just hope his burger suits him well enough. I'm just surprised no one wonders why they're always the only one in here."
"You'd think they'd find Angel's Diner to be somewhat of an ironic name?"
"John, you know they don't read the signs. Otherwise you'd think someone would have us figured out by now."
"As long as they aren't killing themselves, I don't care if they figure us out any."
John and Julie smiled at each other, looking over at Ted. He took a bite of his burger and smiled, thinking everything was going to be OK again.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Please Give Me an Awesome Job: Prove It! Announcing Super Smash Bros. Board!
About a month ago I uploaded a video asking for an awesome job, just to see what I could get from that. People loved it, said it was hilarious. And after 86 views...I never heard from anyone wanting to give me an awesome job that I spoke of.
So I decided I was going to prove myself. And that's what I did, by spending the last month of my time creating the board game Super Smash Bros. Board! It was a grueling month, filled with having to see how much I could actually spend on the project and attempting to find ways to reduce costs. Luckily, with a freelance project helping me pay for this, I was able to complete it. Check it out a little bit below in the video.
Interested in purchasing? Want to mass produce it? Email us and let us know: asimpleletterwriting@gmail.com
What I Did
There was a lot of work to do in order to make this come to life. First thing I did was figure out how the game plays, and how I could relate the video game into a board game. It turned out to be incredibly easier than I thought.
The whole idea of fighting is to get your opponent to the edge based on the roll of a die. With your 4 special moves, you move back and forth in a battle of who moves where. Once you make it to the last tile (the 5th one) you get a safety roll and try to save yourself. Otherwise you just lost the battle. It gets more complicated when you start adding in items, which force players to use them strategically if at all.
With that in place, I had to research materials and how to make the game. I found some tutorials on building your own game, spoke with a few shop owners, and admittedly even attempted to work with some companies that never got back to me (and I didn't really think they would). In the end I used the entirety of a Monopoly game (minus cards, money and the metal figures), a lot of printing at Kinko's, an oversized poster for the board, and tons of cutting. I spent more than I am willing to admit on this project, just to make it see the light of day. And the light of day it sees for you all to now take on the challenge of making it better than I can.
Smash to the Core
The game is Smash Bros. at it's core. It is fun, crazy, zany and can change in the blink of an eye. It also crams more Nintendo history than the games ever have. I use references to pop culture and memes- as well as jokes Nintendo fans know about. This is the kind of stuff Nintendo fans love, but Nintendo is afraid to use usually (exception: Super Paper Mario).
It's also meant to be more fun with more people. The player cap is at 4, only because of materials needed. If you really wanted you could probably have all 12 players on the field at once. Think of how crazy that would be.
100% Customizable
One thing fans of Super Smash love arguing about more than what should be legal in tournaments (or how tournament players are ruining the game) is easy: characters. But the best thing about this game? You can add anyone, and anything. And it's easy to keep balance, because everyone has the exact same stats.
Brings you to the Core of Playing
Sure, you can change it so this game is more strategic and much less about chance. But what this is meant to do is get rid of a lot of the worries some fans have- and instead just focus on fun. There's no need for tier systems, hacking, or watching videos of your dice roll (I really hope no one does that). This is board gaming at it's finest: fun, easy, and pisses a lot of people off at some point. And honestly, that's what the original Smash was all about.
My Inspiration
The entirety of this actually came from a Kotaku Photoshop Contest. I had won the week before for a video entry, and was going to take it to the next level the next week- as the challenge was to photoshop a board game based on a video game. This made me think of how Smash Bros. would work- and a month later, we have Board!
If you look at our photos on Facebook you should see inspiration from a lot of places for design. The back of Item cards is based on the menu from the original Smash, as the back of Challenger! cards throw it to the Melee Challenger Approaches screens. Even the back of the Character cards you should recognize from Melee.
The player pieces are the original 12, in their original art form, colored in with colored pencil. This design is meant to bring more of the puppet-like feel the original game gave off- compared to the trophies in the later versions.
And you'll see a ton of the Smash logo, the circle with the lines through it. It's all over the box, manual, and is the design of the battle coins.
If you look at the board, you'll also notice something. Each of the background pieces as it is going around are big moments in Nintendo's history- in chronological order. You actually are traveling through Nintendo History.
You should also look right behind the tiles. Notice something? It's Final Destination. And if you look at it right, you'll notice that the 5th tile is off the stage, so you would fall just like in the game.
I think my favorite thing about design has to be the "Only for" on the front- harking back to the days when Nintendo put that on all of their boxes (it's designed after the Gamecube of course...I hope that doesn't mean this game will fail for some reason...)
My Only Warning
I have one warning and really it's this: don't spend too much money on this. I spent a buttload more than I would had Nintendo actually made this- and it still isn't as beautiful. I think it looks fantastic, as I am in no way an artist of this kind, but you do not want to spend the kind of money I have for this if you do plan to make it.
Oh, also- if you go to Kinko's realize that they shrink a lot of file sizes when they print. I'm not sure why, my guess is the fact I was working with an 8.5X11 photo and they have cut offs automatically. It did change some things because the proportions were off, but it still looked good.
And Yes, I am for Hire
Just remember Nintendo/Hasbro/Any Other Impressed Company I am Likely Willing to Work for, I am available for your awesome job. So don't hesitate to email me. I'd love to come make some more board games or video games.
Or if you need someone to be your official fan spokesperson, Nintendo. I could totally do that.
Check out the Project SSBB (double S, double B) tab to download, and find pictures galore.
So I decided I was going to prove myself. And that's what I did, by spending the last month of my time creating the board game Super Smash Bros. Board! It was a grueling month, filled with having to see how much I could actually spend on the project and attempting to find ways to reduce costs. Luckily, with a freelance project helping me pay for this, I was able to complete it. Check it out a little bit below in the video.
Interested in purchasing? Want to mass produce it? Email us and let us know: asimpleletterwriting@gmail.com
What I Did
There was a lot of work to do in order to make this come to life. First thing I did was figure out how the game plays, and how I could relate the video game into a board game. It turned out to be incredibly easier than I thought.
The whole idea of fighting is to get your opponent to the edge based on the roll of a die. With your 4 special moves, you move back and forth in a battle of who moves where. Once you make it to the last tile (the 5th one) you get a safety roll and try to save yourself. Otherwise you just lost the battle. It gets more complicated when you start adding in items, which force players to use them strategically if at all.
With that in place, I had to research materials and how to make the game. I found some tutorials on building your own game, spoke with a few shop owners, and admittedly even attempted to work with some companies that never got back to me (and I didn't really think they would). In the end I used the entirety of a Monopoly game (minus cards, money and the metal figures), a lot of printing at Kinko's, an oversized poster for the board, and tons of cutting. I spent more than I am willing to admit on this project, just to make it see the light of day. And the light of day it sees for you all to now take on the challenge of making it better than I can.
Smash to the Core
The game is Smash Bros. at it's core. It is fun, crazy, zany and can change in the blink of an eye. It also crams more Nintendo history than the games ever have. I use references to pop culture and memes- as well as jokes Nintendo fans know about. This is the kind of stuff Nintendo fans love, but Nintendo is afraid to use usually (exception: Super Paper Mario).
It's also meant to be more fun with more people. The player cap is at 4, only because of materials needed. If you really wanted you could probably have all 12 players on the field at once. Think of how crazy that would be.
100% Customizable
One thing fans of Super Smash love arguing about more than what should be legal in tournaments (or how tournament players are ruining the game) is easy: characters. But the best thing about this game? You can add anyone, and anything. And it's easy to keep balance, because everyone has the exact same stats.
Brings you to the Core of Playing
Sure, you can change it so this game is more strategic and much less about chance. But what this is meant to do is get rid of a lot of the worries some fans have- and instead just focus on fun. There's no need for tier systems, hacking, or watching videos of your dice roll (I really hope no one does that). This is board gaming at it's finest: fun, easy, and pisses a lot of people off at some point. And honestly, that's what the original Smash was all about.
My Inspiration
The entirety of this actually came from a Kotaku Photoshop Contest. I had won the week before for a video entry, and was going to take it to the next level the next week- as the challenge was to photoshop a board game based on a video game. This made me think of how Smash Bros. would work- and a month later, we have Board!
If you look at our photos on Facebook you should see inspiration from a lot of places for design. The back of Item cards is based on the menu from the original Smash, as the back of Challenger! cards throw it to the Melee Challenger Approaches screens. Even the back of the Character cards you should recognize from Melee.
The player pieces are the original 12, in their original art form, colored in with colored pencil. This design is meant to bring more of the puppet-like feel the original game gave off- compared to the trophies in the later versions.
And you'll see a ton of the Smash logo, the circle with the lines through it. It's all over the box, manual, and is the design of the battle coins.
If you look at the board, you'll also notice something. Each of the background pieces as it is going around are big moments in Nintendo's history- in chronological order. You actually are traveling through Nintendo History.
You should also look right behind the tiles. Notice something? It's Final Destination. And if you look at it right, you'll notice that the 5th tile is off the stage, so you would fall just like in the game.
I think my favorite thing about design has to be the "Only for" on the front- harking back to the days when Nintendo put that on all of their boxes (it's designed after the Gamecube of course...I hope that doesn't mean this game will fail for some reason...)
My Only Warning
I have one warning and really it's this: don't spend too much money on this. I spent a buttload more than I would had Nintendo actually made this- and it still isn't as beautiful. I think it looks fantastic, as I am in no way an artist of this kind, but you do not want to spend the kind of money I have for this if you do plan to make it.
Oh, also- if you go to Kinko's realize that they shrink a lot of file sizes when they print. I'm not sure why, my guess is the fact I was working with an 8.5X11 photo and they have cut offs automatically. It did change some things because the proportions were off, but it still looked good.
And Yes, I am for Hire
Just remember Nintendo/Hasbro/Any Other Impressed Company I am Likely Willing to Work for, I am available for your awesome job. So don't hesitate to email me. I'd love to come make some more board games or video games.
Or if you need someone to be your official fan spokesperson, Nintendo. I could totally do that.
Check out the Project SSBB (double S, double B) tab to download, and find pictures galore.
Monday, August 15, 2011
New business aims to help missing people searches
by James
Gabbard
Every month, there are 67 million
online searches for lost family members. From FBI estimates, 2,300
people are reported missing every day. It's as simple as family being
split up and losing contact from moving that can separate a loved
one.
“My brother can't hear or talk, he is
turning 30 years old on October 29 of this year, and I really need to
see him. It's been about two years since I've heard from him, I
wonder every day if he is doing well,” writes Marlene Moran on a
post on Answers.com. Moran is looking for her brother Doug.
Nikki posts on Yahoo, asking for advice
on how to find her sister she knows nothing about. She pleads for
someone to help her, being that she's only 14 and her mother won't
tell her anything.
John made a Facebook page to look for
his mother and brother. He lost contact with them in Sri Lanka, and
has since been unable find them. He continuously posts their names
and date of birth, hoping someone will find them.
“I just want my daddy, is that too
much to ask?” posts nikki080610 on 43Things.com. She's been looking
for her father since her parents split up before her birth.
“Wherever you are now dad, I wish you
were here. It's the 16th year I celebrated Father's Day
without you here. I love you.” posts user Chen Cruz, also looking
for her father since birth.
Many of these people have to take the
same tactics of background checks and online forums in order to find
someone. They hire private investigators, which charge based on how
much information is already obtained. With just a first name,
birthday and a picture- the range of services go from $100-1500 just
to find someone.
“I can't help you with a first name,”
said one agency.
The founders of Video Suspects have a
solution for these people. They have plans to launch a website, in
which users can post images and
videos with the information they have for missing people,
crime suspects, and more and offer cash rewards for other users to
find them.
“Most people have pictures that can
be 20, 30, and 40 and even 50 years old and still be identifiable by
them,” Founder Ed Burns said.
Video Suspects hasn't fully launched
yet, searching for investors to get involved before launching their
marketing campaign and full website's functions
and tools. The founders say they want people to get closure on
the answer of why they weren't in a loved one's life, as millions
want to know why. Burns is one of those people, who had in the past
searched for his father.
“Why? Why wasn't I included his life?
And always the question 'why?'” Burns said. “People always want
to be the fly on the wall to understand why.”
Video Suspects also hopes to help
police and businesses stop shoplifting, a $14.5 billion loss each
year for America. The corporation is currently looking to find an
equity investor to work with their current skilled team of over 50
years experience, before launching the site nationally. Plans are to
launch the site in 90 days after funding.
Once launched the site will be easier
and more affordable to use than current methods or platforms. Users
pay a monthly fee to post the information they have, while other
users can join for free to report and identify people. For each
person successfully found, a cash reward will be offered.
According to Burns, Video Suspects can
assist law enforcement by
centralizing data and having more than just one person looking for
someone. The use of reward incentives will also help draw millions of
people more than online forums.
The new company is currently planning
to stay in the beta stages until it has found equity investors to
fully launch, but users can still sign up during the beta period.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
His Death
I always had a ritual when someone died. I'd pop in a CD I had made, and hit repeat on number ten- and just sing along. Track ten was always I Will Follow You Into the Dark by Death Cab for Cutie. I'd just listen to it over and over again.
I hated gearing up for the funeral. This one in particular. I wasn't sure if I should even go, but I made my own choice. I put my suit on, all black with a little white. I combed my short hair. Put my sunglasses on that I had always put on. My nicer shoes I had gotten to wear for interviews.
I drove to the cemetery, the middle of fall there were leaves everywhere. The sun shone bright above the graves. A line of cars marked the drive, as chairs sat in front of a podium and a casket. It was like something out of a movie.
I sat in my car, watching. I was late, never could be on time for anything he put on. I saw people who wanted nothing to do with me, crying. I saw people I hadn't spoken to in months. Everything changes in the blink of an eye.
I got out and walked across the lawn, crunching leaves. I quickly took a seat behind a few I still spoke with. I couldn't listen to the man preaching something about God as I sat there. I could only play the song over and over in my head.
"At this time we ask friends and family to come forth to say a few things about Vincent."
I listened to his family and friends remembering the good times. Saying he would be missed. One saying they wished his death could've been avoided.
"Does anyone else want to speak at this time?"
"I would," I said loudly- the song still playing in my head. The man nodded and gave me the podium.
I walked up slowly, everyone's eyes on me. My sunglasses covering my eyes, and how I truly felt. As I got closer I could see his lifeless body for the first time in the casket. Nothing seemed real.
"Hello everyone. Some of you may not know me. I was Vincent's friend during college. To many of you, I was a friend too. I was told I shouldn't come here today, because people would think I was dancing on his grave due to our falling out. That's not why I'm here.
"I'm here because life is fickle. One day you're eight years old and carefree. The next you're thirteen and wondering what's going on with your body. And the next thing you know, you're married with your own eight year old. People change, and we all change with them.
"For Vince and me, life was fickle. We had our ups and downs. We grew apart. And we had a bad falling out. But I changed just as he did. I'm a forgiving man, now. That's why I'm here. Not to just forgive, but to forget those downs. I'll forget the disagreements, him and I acting like assholes to each other. I'll forget the hate, because life is too fickle to remember that.
"Instead I'll remember him as a friend," I nodded. "I'll remember him as someone who was willing to help someone who was dealing with more issues than anyone could know. I'll remember him for bringing together the friends we had, instead of separating us. I'll remember every laugh, and every smile. Because that's all that matters.
"I have a ritual when someone in my life dies. I'll play this song over and over again. I Will Follow You into the Dark. So, Vince- despite all the bad we had at the end, if there's no one beside you- I'll follow you into the dark. I'll follow you into the dark."
I stepped down. I couldn't tell what people were doing. I didn't care. All I could hear was the song playing in my head. The man stood there, preaching his last words. I watched as the casket was closed and the coffin lowered into the ground.
Everyone else went to throw a bit of dirt on top, as I disappeared to the back of the cemetery. I breathed in the new fall air. I watched and listened to the birds and saw squirrels playing on the graves.
No one said anything to me as I stood there. No one said hello or goodbye to me. The cars slowly left. I looked back at the scene and nodded.
"I hope the dark isn't too bad, old friend."
The wind picked up like a movie. I got into my car and turned it on. The radio turned on, track ten still on repeat. I drove off, listening to the song one more time.
I hated gearing up for the funeral. This one in particular. I wasn't sure if I should even go, but I made my own choice. I put my suit on, all black with a little white. I combed my short hair. Put my sunglasses on that I had always put on. My nicer shoes I had gotten to wear for interviews.
I drove to the cemetery, the middle of fall there were leaves everywhere. The sun shone bright above the graves. A line of cars marked the drive, as chairs sat in front of a podium and a casket. It was like something out of a movie.
I sat in my car, watching. I was late, never could be on time for anything he put on. I saw people who wanted nothing to do with me, crying. I saw people I hadn't spoken to in months. Everything changes in the blink of an eye.
I got out and walked across the lawn, crunching leaves. I quickly took a seat behind a few I still spoke with. I couldn't listen to the man preaching something about God as I sat there. I could only play the song over and over in my head.
"At this time we ask friends and family to come forth to say a few things about Vincent."
I listened to his family and friends remembering the good times. Saying he would be missed. One saying they wished his death could've been avoided.
"Does anyone else want to speak at this time?"
"I would," I said loudly- the song still playing in my head. The man nodded and gave me the podium.
I walked up slowly, everyone's eyes on me. My sunglasses covering my eyes, and how I truly felt. As I got closer I could see his lifeless body for the first time in the casket. Nothing seemed real.
"Hello everyone. Some of you may not know me. I was Vincent's friend during college. To many of you, I was a friend too. I was told I shouldn't come here today, because people would think I was dancing on his grave due to our falling out. That's not why I'm here.
"I'm here because life is fickle. One day you're eight years old and carefree. The next you're thirteen and wondering what's going on with your body. And the next thing you know, you're married with your own eight year old. People change, and we all change with them.
"For Vince and me, life was fickle. We had our ups and downs. We grew apart. And we had a bad falling out. But I changed just as he did. I'm a forgiving man, now. That's why I'm here. Not to just forgive, but to forget those downs. I'll forget the disagreements, him and I acting like assholes to each other. I'll forget the hate, because life is too fickle to remember that.
"Instead I'll remember him as a friend," I nodded. "I'll remember him as someone who was willing to help someone who was dealing with more issues than anyone could know. I'll remember him for bringing together the friends we had, instead of separating us. I'll remember every laugh, and every smile. Because that's all that matters.
"I have a ritual when someone in my life dies. I'll play this song over and over again. I Will Follow You into the Dark. So, Vince- despite all the bad we had at the end, if there's no one beside you- I'll follow you into the dark. I'll follow you into the dark."
I stepped down. I couldn't tell what people were doing. I didn't care. All I could hear was the song playing in my head. The man stood there, preaching his last words. I watched as the casket was closed and the coffin lowered into the ground.
Everyone else went to throw a bit of dirt on top, as I disappeared to the back of the cemetery. I breathed in the new fall air. I watched and listened to the birds and saw squirrels playing on the graves.
No one said anything to me as I stood there. No one said hello or goodbye to me. The cars slowly left. I looked back at the scene and nodded.
"I hope the dark isn't too bad, old friend."
The wind picked up like a movie. I got into my car and turned it on. The radio turned on, track ten still on repeat. I drove off, listening to the song one more time.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Push
I can't keep doing this. I can't keep pushing for success to only fail.
"What do you mean I still owe you a thousand dollars? I paid that off last month. No, I did. I even wrote a check and everything. Well, the cash is no longer in my bank account so of course it was cashed. You know, why don't you go see what's going on with your computers messing up and get back to me."
I couldn't keep lying. It wasn't going to last. The debt was filing in and there was nothing I could do. They say 90% of new businesses failed, but I had a surefire plan. I knew how business worked. I had the best people, I pushed and worked harder than anyone else. How could I fail?
"Mr. Delaney, your father is on the phone."
"My father?"
"There's a Benjamin on the phone for you."
"Benjamin isn't my father. He's my step father."
"I'm sorry Mr. Delaney, should I take a message?"
"No, I'll answer it. Thank you Pat."
I hated this man. He married my mother when I was 20 and in college. My mom had kept my room exactly the way it was while I was away, and he took out everything valuable, sold it, and told me nothing in life was free and that I had to earn everything. I then told him I had earned many of what was in my room from working odds jobs since I was 13. He didn't relent.
"Andy, it's your father."
"You're not my father, Ben."
"And you're not my asshole son of a bitch son who promised me a giant return if I invested in his company. What is going on with you?"
Debt. I had pushed myself to deal with the bullying of high school to graduate at the top of my class, so I could go to any college I wanted to. Wasn't smart enough to get any of the scholarships I wanted though, and was forced to pay for college myself. $100,000 for 4 1/2 years and I learned little that I could use. When they wanted money back for all those loans, I was pushing myself working two jobs dealing with idiots that probably didn't have their GEDs calling me a rude bastard for not caring about their days and not wanting to fake caring, especially when the companies I worked for pushed me to the edge of exhaustion and still wanted more.
Then I took to doing anything I could for money so I could pay for food. I was starving most the time when working, because I just couldn't afford anything. Days would go by with no sleep. In my free time I would apply for jobs. Having to work through college, you don't get internships and experience. And everyone wants experience.
So I pushed harder. I found investors. I found people that liked my ideas. I got enough money to make way into opening up my own business. I hired the best team around. And then everything started falling apart.
"Hello? Andy are you there?"
"Yes Ben, I'm here. Sorry. I just. Things aren't going to well in my life."
"Don't tell me it's because Laura left you."
"No. It's been awhile, I'm sure I've moved on from her breaking off the engagement."
"Listen, I don't know what it is and I'm sure I'm the last one you want to tell- but if you need someone always know Pastor Thomas is there."
"Thanks Ben. I have some work to do, I'll call you back tonight."
If only I believed in God any more after all the bad things that happened. Laura had been my dream girl for two years after I graduated college. We worked together, and she understood my situation better than anyone I had ever dreamed of. She was supportive in everything, but one day it was just over. Some say we were too young. Others say she was cheating on me with other guys. I simply say, it is what it is.
I fell into a bad place, but pushed myself to move on. Nothing was bringing her back, and nothing ever would. I threw myself into work, unfortunately ignoring many of my friends from before. I find a few had been bad mouthing me behind my back, and told them off for it. Close friends I had known for years walked away from me. I threw myself into work.
A piece of paper sat on my desk. The pen was in my hand, waiting.
I found some of the best graduates around, and hired them. I had the investor's money to do it. I had the time now. I had everything I needed to do what I needed to get the business of the ground. Then as we were about to launch our website, our Internet went out. Checking into it, the entire internal network had a virus. It took us a month for us to get back to where we were.
Money was lost. I had to pay employees, costs of repair. The entire advertising campaign had to be scrapped due to timing, and I wasn't sure where to go from there.
The pen was heavy in my hand. I could feel it tilting back and forth.
More friends left me. I had to push myself, and nothing was going to stop me. Nothing except life. I needed more money from investors, and no one was giving me the time to even talk to them. A few places, schemes mostly, wanted me to basically borrow money from them. I took the bait on one, and wound up in more debt than I could afford. My business was basically in ruin. When I fired one of the guys who was getting paid too much, everyone knew what was going on. Others began to leave from finding other jobs. I brought in lower paid kids who didn't know what they were doing. Everything began to fail no matter how long I stared at the figures.
"Dear Loved Ones," I wrote, finally moving the pen to the paper.
I began drinking a lot. Tried to go back to school to get another degree, but didn't go further than looking into it. Too expensive for a guy my age. I applied to jobs, posted videos, posted everything I could to try to get someone to help. And nothing. I was simply waiting for it all to fail.
"I cannot live this life any more. I am depressed. I push harder and harder hoping for something and nothing comes of it. Nothing works out for me. No matter how hard I push, I keep pushing harder and no one seems to understand that. It was my fault many things happened between some of us, the bad things. I'll take that blame, even if it wasn't my fault. We have to blame someone."
I looked at the paper and took a deep breath. I twirled the pen around in my fingers. I took the paper and crumbled it up, throwing it in the trash can. I packed up my things and left the office.
I drove home and changed out of my suit. I left the house again and just drove. For hours I drove around the city, around the suburbs, around the country we had. I saw everything. As I was driving, I found where I used to live as a child. Down the street was a park I hadn't been to in years, despite not living more than 15 minutes away. I parked and saw the basketball court, where my friends at the time and I played.
I popped my trunk, took out the deflated basketball I had in there from college, and walked over. Each shot felt good, even if I missed. I had no cares in the world. My phone wasn't going off, as I had shut it off. No one was bugging me about the debt I owed them. I was relaxed with each shot.
It was a better shot than the liquor I had every night. And it was better than what I had planned to do that evening.
I waited until darkness to leave, then sweaty from the small exercise I had been doing. I drove home, happier than I had been. Not thinking about the stress I was going to face, because I knew that I had to just keep pushing.
I knew that I had to keep that drawer in my desk locked. The only shooting I would be doing was basketballs, and for the stars.
"What do you mean I still owe you a thousand dollars? I paid that off last month. No, I did. I even wrote a check and everything. Well, the cash is no longer in my bank account so of course it was cashed. You know, why don't you go see what's going on with your computers messing up and get back to me."
I couldn't keep lying. It wasn't going to last. The debt was filing in and there was nothing I could do. They say 90% of new businesses failed, but I had a surefire plan. I knew how business worked. I had the best people, I pushed and worked harder than anyone else. How could I fail?
"Mr. Delaney, your father is on the phone."
"My father?"
"There's a Benjamin on the phone for you."
"Benjamin isn't my father. He's my step father."
"I'm sorry Mr. Delaney, should I take a message?"
"No, I'll answer it. Thank you Pat."
I hated this man. He married my mother when I was 20 and in college. My mom had kept my room exactly the way it was while I was away, and he took out everything valuable, sold it, and told me nothing in life was free and that I had to earn everything. I then told him I had earned many of what was in my room from working odds jobs since I was 13. He didn't relent.
"Andy, it's your father."
"You're not my father, Ben."
"And you're not my asshole son of a bitch son who promised me a giant return if I invested in his company. What is going on with you?"
Debt. I had pushed myself to deal with the bullying of high school to graduate at the top of my class, so I could go to any college I wanted to. Wasn't smart enough to get any of the scholarships I wanted though, and was forced to pay for college myself. $100,000 for 4 1/2 years and I learned little that I could use. When they wanted money back for all those loans, I was pushing myself working two jobs dealing with idiots that probably didn't have their GEDs calling me a rude bastard for not caring about their days and not wanting to fake caring, especially when the companies I worked for pushed me to the edge of exhaustion and still wanted more.
Then I took to doing anything I could for money so I could pay for food. I was starving most the time when working, because I just couldn't afford anything. Days would go by with no sleep. In my free time I would apply for jobs. Having to work through college, you don't get internships and experience. And everyone wants experience.
So I pushed harder. I found investors. I found people that liked my ideas. I got enough money to make way into opening up my own business. I hired the best team around. And then everything started falling apart.
"Hello? Andy are you there?"
"Yes Ben, I'm here. Sorry. I just. Things aren't going to well in my life."
"Don't tell me it's because Laura left you."
"No. It's been awhile, I'm sure I've moved on from her breaking off the engagement."
"Listen, I don't know what it is and I'm sure I'm the last one you want to tell- but if you need someone always know Pastor Thomas is there."
"Thanks Ben. I have some work to do, I'll call you back tonight."
If only I believed in God any more after all the bad things that happened. Laura had been my dream girl for two years after I graduated college. We worked together, and she understood my situation better than anyone I had ever dreamed of. She was supportive in everything, but one day it was just over. Some say we were too young. Others say she was cheating on me with other guys. I simply say, it is what it is.
I fell into a bad place, but pushed myself to move on. Nothing was bringing her back, and nothing ever would. I threw myself into work, unfortunately ignoring many of my friends from before. I find a few had been bad mouthing me behind my back, and told them off for it. Close friends I had known for years walked away from me. I threw myself into work.
A piece of paper sat on my desk. The pen was in my hand, waiting.
I found some of the best graduates around, and hired them. I had the investor's money to do it. I had the time now. I had everything I needed to do what I needed to get the business of the ground. Then as we were about to launch our website, our Internet went out. Checking into it, the entire internal network had a virus. It took us a month for us to get back to where we were.
Money was lost. I had to pay employees, costs of repair. The entire advertising campaign had to be scrapped due to timing, and I wasn't sure where to go from there.
The pen was heavy in my hand. I could feel it tilting back and forth.
More friends left me. I had to push myself, and nothing was going to stop me. Nothing except life. I needed more money from investors, and no one was giving me the time to even talk to them. A few places, schemes mostly, wanted me to basically borrow money from them. I took the bait on one, and wound up in more debt than I could afford. My business was basically in ruin. When I fired one of the guys who was getting paid too much, everyone knew what was going on. Others began to leave from finding other jobs. I brought in lower paid kids who didn't know what they were doing. Everything began to fail no matter how long I stared at the figures.
"Dear Loved Ones," I wrote, finally moving the pen to the paper.
I began drinking a lot. Tried to go back to school to get another degree, but didn't go further than looking into it. Too expensive for a guy my age. I applied to jobs, posted videos, posted everything I could to try to get someone to help. And nothing. I was simply waiting for it all to fail.
"I cannot live this life any more. I am depressed. I push harder and harder hoping for something and nothing comes of it. Nothing works out for me. No matter how hard I push, I keep pushing harder and no one seems to understand that. It was my fault many things happened between some of us, the bad things. I'll take that blame, even if it wasn't my fault. We have to blame someone."
I looked at the paper and took a deep breath. I twirled the pen around in my fingers. I took the paper and crumbled it up, throwing it in the trash can. I packed up my things and left the office.
I drove home and changed out of my suit. I left the house again and just drove. For hours I drove around the city, around the suburbs, around the country we had. I saw everything. As I was driving, I found where I used to live as a child. Down the street was a park I hadn't been to in years, despite not living more than 15 minutes away. I parked and saw the basketball court, where my friends at the time and I played.
I popped my trunk, took out the deflated basketball I had in there from college, and walked over. Each shot felt good, even if I missed. I had no cares in the world. My phone wasn't going off, as I had shut it off. No one was bugging me about the debt I owed them. I was relaxed with each shot.
It was a better shot than the liquor I had every night. And it was better than what I had planned to do that evening.
I waited until darkness to leave, then sweaty from the small exercise I had been doing. I drove home, happier than I had been. Not thinking about the stress I was going to face, because I knew that I had to just keep pushing.
I knew that I had to keep that drawer in my desk locked. The only shooting I would be doing was basketballs, and for the stars.
Monday, June 13, 2011
The Burning: Part II
I turned the radio's dial down to a mere 3, as I watched her walk up to her front door. It had been months since I had seen her. Months.
"Thanks, love you too!" she said to her new boyfriend. At least, I could only make out that it was a guy I hadn't ever seen before. And there she stood, looking at her door, keys in hand, confused.
I put my hand, covered in a black glove, on the door to my car. I stepped out, body covered in a large coat, my face with a scarf over it, and sunglasses and hat to top it all off. I closed the door and slowly walked towards her.
She got her cell phone out and began dialing. "Daniel, weirdest thing my front door's lock is melted shut. I can't even get a key in and the door is still locked."
I walked slowly, my head down. My boots made little noise as they clacked on the sidewalk.
"Alright, I'll try to break the door down. Yes, please come back I'm a little scared now."
She hung the phone up and started to beat on the door with her whole body.
"Need some help?" I asked.
"No, I-" she looked up and saw me. She didn't recognize me. She was scared, because my outfit didn't fit the weather. Not that I would notice. "I'm good. Thank you."
"Here, let me lend you a hand." I said, taking my glove off and walking up to the door.
"No, really, it's OK."
I put my bare hand on the door to watch it melt off. The metal was putty in my hands.
"You did that to my door?"
"I did, Claire. We should talk."
"Daryl?"
I motioned her inside, as I pushed the door open. She wasn't sure what to make of me, but was visibly less scared than before.
"Daryl, what are you doing here?"
"My experiment. I figured out how to splice genes."
"Why are you wearing such a ridiculous outfit?"
I looked at the ground. I felt like crying. Like a tear was stuck. I took the hat off first, then the sunglasses and scarf. I slowly took my jacket off.
"Oh my...what have you done?"
My body had become infused with diamonds. My hair had fallen off as a side effect, all of my hair. There was none anywhere on my body. Instead my body was encased, mostly, in a crystal like substance. My face was the worst, with my eyes looking like glass. My nose at one point since the transformation had gotten hit, and cracked. The body didn't regenerate and the crystal was not as strong as diamond.
"This is who I am now. My research. I did this because of you."
"Because of me? Why would you do something so stupid?"
"Why would you?"
She knew what I meant when I said it. She knew I meant leaving me, finding another guy. Finding Daniel.
"Listen, Daniel is nothing like you. He's a great guy but-"
"I don't want to hear it. You fucked up, and yeah...I thought this was change things but instead it just made it worse. I thought I could change the world, and now look at me. I'm an outcast."
"Can't you just change back?"
"That's not how it works, Claire. This is how people see me, and will always see me. Even if we try to go back, this is what we've done. You fucked up my life."
"I still love you."
"I don't care. I just don't fucking care."
I moved out a chair, forgetting I had the glove off, and felt my hand collapse through as the chair caught on fire. I quickly put it out, putting my glove back on and attempting to sit down in a different chair.
"When I started I told myself I would make things better for both of us. That no body would destroy me, not even you. I could build myself up to levels you couldn't touch. Superhuman strength, heat levels that created fire, electricity running through me. Diamond tough skin. None of it worked. No one cared about me and just left me. You know what I've done to them?"
"What have you done?"
"I killed them all. I held them by their throats with this bare hand of mine and felt as their blood splattered over my hand. I watched as I tried to make everything better, and instead all I did was kill all of those people that left us. That left me."
"You're a murderer, Daryl?"
"I killed them, Claire. I fucking killed all of them. Then I burnt them to nothing with my bare hands."
"Please, just realize I love you Daryl. Even now with you in whatever state you are, it's taking everything in me to not hug you right now."
"You can't. The crystal is somewhat sharp and sometimes can be hot."
She looked at me with a tearful eye. "You know I love you, right?"
"Of course I do. You know why I came here, right?"
"To tell me how I ruined your life? How you killed all those people and plan to kill me?"
"No. To say I loved you too. And to say goodbye one last time."
"Goodbye? Daryl, please don't go. We can talk. Like I said, Daniel means-"
"Nothing. Nothing can stop me."
"Please, just- wait. You need to at least be in a hospital. Something."
"They couldn't do anything to help me."
"What do you mean?"
"The crystal is slowly taking over my entire body. Once it encases it, I'm fairly certain the heat will reach such heights that my body cannot take it. Once that heat builds up my internal organs will burst. That is, if the crystal doesn't get to my blood or organs first."
"You're dying."
"That I am."
"But there's so much to do, so much to see with you."
"I'm going to be dead soon. Let's just focus on the good times. Like every time I was with you." My breathing felt somewhat heavy. I found it harder and harder to breathe.
"You're so sweet." She smiled. "I wish I hadn't chosen the path I had."
"We all make mistakes. Just like I did with this experiment. But hey, you're in a better place I'm sure. You have Daniel. I'm sure he's not a douchebag."
"Actually, he is kind of a douchebag."
"Dump him, you could do better. You could always do better than me, and you settled. You were the hot one."
"Now you're the hot one." She said, giggling.
"Heh, funny."
We sat for an hour, just talking until Daniel showed up and knocked on the door.
"Fuck off." I told him. Claire went and got rid of him. It was another hour before my breathing got heavier. I became sleepy.
"I'm going to lay down on the floor here, Claire."
"OK. Keep talking to me though." She had tears running down her face.
"I will. Always. I just need a nap right now."
"Well, I'll be here when you wake up."
I didn't know where I was going when I woke up. I had traveled hundreds of miles to see her- killing people for months on end and hiding from cops. Hiding from everyone. And now all I could think of, was her voice.
"Oh hey, I brought you something. You left this in my car. I want you to still have it." I handed her the diamond bracelet I had given to her the night we broke up. She read the engraved quote, her favorite from Farenheit 451 "It is a pleasure to burn."
"I liked that quote because it has so many connotations. You could use it to mean the books. You could use it as an ironic statement. You could use it as a parody of what they really want you to do. Or you could use it as a literal statement, taking pleasure in the act of burning. Or you could even say, the idea of burning things into our memories. A burning desire for love or lust. So many questions of what it is a pleasure to burn."
"I'd burn for you." I said out loud. "But after I wake up."
"After you wake up," she said putting the bracelet on and watching me fall into the deepest sleep she'd ever see someone go into. "After you wake up."
"Thanks, love you too!" she said to her new boyfriend. At least, I could only make out that it was a guy I hadn't ever seen before. And there she stood, looking at her door, keys in hand, confused.
I put my hand, covered in a black glove, on the door to my car. I stepped out, body covered in a large coat, my face with a scarf over it, and sunglasses and hat to top it all off. I closed the door and slowly walked towards her.
She got her cell phone out and began dialing. "Daniel, weirdest thing my front door's lock is melted shut. I can't even get a key in and the door is still locked."
I walked slowly, my head down. My boots made little noise as they clacked on the sidewalk.
"Alright, I'll try to break the door down. Yes, please come back I'm a little scared now."
She hung the phone up and started to beat on the door with her whole body.
"Need some help?" I asked.
"No, I-" she looked up and saw me. She didn't recognize me. She was scared, because my outfit didn't fit the weather. Not that I would notice. "I'm good. Thank you."
"Here, let me lend you a hand." I said, taking my glove off and walking up to the door.
"No, really, it's OK."
I put my bare hand on the door to watch it melt off. The metal was putty in my hands.
"You did that to my door?"
"I did, Claire. We should talk."
"Daryl?"
I motioned her inside, as I pushed the door open. She wasn't sure what to make of me, but was visibly less scared than before.
"Daryl, what are you doing here?"
"My experiment. I figured out how to splice genes."
"Why are you wearing such a ridiculous outfit?"
I looked at the ground. I felt like crying. Like a tear was stuck. I took the hat off first, then the sunglasses and scarf. I slowly took my jacket off.
"Oh my...what have you done?"
My body had become infused with diamonds. My hair had fallen off as a side effect, all of my hair. There was none anywhere on my body. Instead my body was encased, mostly, in a crystal like substance. My face was the worst, with my eyes looking like glass. My nose at one point since the transformation had gotten hit, and cracked. The body didn't regenerate and the crystal was not as strong as diamond.
"This is who I am now. My research. I did this because of you."
"Because of me? Why would you do something so stupid?"
"Why would you?"
She knew what I meant when I said it. She knew I meant leaving me, finding another guy. Finding Daniel.
"Listen, Daniel is nothing like you. He's a great guy but-"
"I don't want to hear it. You fucked up, and yeah...I thought this was change things but instead it just made it worse. I thought I could change the world, and now look at me. I'm an outcast."
"Can't you just change back?"
"That's not how it works, Claire. This is how people see me, and will always see me. Even if we try to go back, this is what we've done. You fucked up my life."
"I still love you."
"I don't care. I just don't fucking care."
I moved out a chair, forgetting I had the glove off, and felt my hand collapse through as the chair caught on fire. I quickly put it out, putting my glove back on and attempting to sit down in a different chair.
"When I started I told myself I would make things better for both of us. That no body would destroy me, not even you. I could build myself up to levels you couldn't touch. Superhuman strength, heat levels that created fire, electricity running through me. Diamond tough skin. None of it worked. No one cared about me and just left me. You know what I've done to them?"
"What have you done?"
"I killed them all. I held them by their throats with this bare hand of mine and felt as their blood splattered over my hand. I watched as I tried to make everything better, and instead all I did was kill all of those people that left us. That left me."
"You're a murderer, Daryl?"
"I killed them, Claire. I fucking killed all of them. Then I burnt them to nothing with my bare hands."
"Please, just realize I love you Daryl. Even now with you in whatever state you are, it's taking everything in me to not hug you right now."
"You can't. The crystal is somewhat sharp and sometimes can be hot."
She looked at me with a tearful eye. "You know I love you, right?"
"Of course I do. You know why I came here, right?"
"To tell me how I ruined your life? How you killed all those people and plan to kill me?"
"No. To say I loved you too. And to say goodbye one last time."
"Goodbye? Daryl, please don't go. We can talk. Like I said, Daniel means-"
"Nothing. Nothing can stop me."
"Please, just- wait. You need to at least be in a hospital. Something."
"They couldn't do anything to help me."
"What do you mean?"
"The crystal is slowly taking over my entire body. Once it encases it, I'm fairly certain the heat will reach such heights that my body cannot take it. Once that heat builds up my internal organs will burst. That is, if the crystal doesn't get to my blood or organs first."
"You're dying."
"That I am."
"But there's so much to do, so much to see with you."
"I'm going to be dead soon. Let's just focus on the good times. Like every time I was with you." My breathing felt somewhat heavy. I found it harder and harder to breathe.
"You're so sweet." She smiled. "I wish I hadn't chosen the path I had."
"We all make mistakes. Just like I did with this experiment. But hey, you're in a better place I'm sure. You have Daniel. I'm sure he's not a douchebag."
"Actually, he is kind of a douchebag."
"Dump him, you could do better. You could always do better than me, and you settled. You were the hot one."
"Now you're the hot one." She said, giggling.
"Heh, funny."
We sat for an hour, just talking until Daniel showed up and knocked on the door.
"Fuck off." I told him. Claire went and got rid of him. It was another hour before my breathing got heavier. I became sleepy.
"I'm going to lay down on the floor here, Claire."
"OK. Keep talking to me though." She had tears running down her face.
"I will. Always. I just need a nap right now."
"Well, I'll be here when you wake up."
I didn't know where I was going when I woke up. I had traveled hundreds of miles to see her- killing people for months on end and hiding from cops. Hiding from everyone. And now all I could think of, was her voice.
"Oh hey, I brought you something. You left this in my car. I want you to still have it." I handed her the diamond bracelet I had given to her the night we broke up. She read the engraved quote, her favorite from Farenheit 451 "It is a pleasure to burn."
"I liked that quote because it has so many connotations. You could use it to mean the books. You could use it as an ironic statement. You could use it as a parody of what they really want you to do. Or you could use it as a literal statement, taking pleasure in the act of burning. Or you could even say, the idea of burning things into our memories. A burning desire for love or lust. So many questions of what it is a pleasure to burn."
"I'd burn for you." I said out loud. "But after I wake up."
"After you wake up," she said putting the bracelet on and watching me fall into the deepest sleep she'd ever see someone go into. "After you wake up."
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Yes, I'm Still Alive
Good news: my computer is back up and running. A whole month after I was going to throw a huge ad campaign (surprise) at the Internet for Death in Disguise. Unfortunately, I'm no longer doing that ad campaign- but I hope you readers will still let all of your friends know about us. Or you yourself can like us on Facebook!
What I'm working on: A ton of things. Sadly, unless people start sending me things, I may only update the site occasionally. Once I work some kinks out, though, I'll be getting a lot of things done. Here's what I'm working on behind the scenes:
1. Soft news reports: I'm a journalist at heart, and once I find a good freeware program for editing video I'll be working on getting some news out there on the YouTube. I was in talks with some people before the computer crash, and hopefully they'll still be interested.
2. Hilarious videos: I also like to humor myself by making videos I find hilarious. What might that be? I have an idea up my sleeve I'm not going to talk about JUST yet, until this cough of mine that is killing me goes away (and I find that dag nabit editing program). Other than that I was in talks about doing a sitcom series, another mockumentary, or even something along the lines of...Glee.
3. Freelance!: Yes, that's right. I'm working freelance now, or going to attempt to work freelance. You can see my first column over at Unexplained Mysteries from the other day when the world was ending. I'm working on getting my work in other places as well- and if anyone would like to use my work or is looking for freelance, feel free to contact me via our contact page.
4. The new novel: Yes sir, yes sir. I am working on a new novel- and it'll be coming to you via Amazon Kindle. The novel is going to be an expansion of the short story "The Connection" which you can find in my book. Remember, I have a book
!
5. A video game: I am working slowly on a video game on top of all of this as well. 5 projects is nothing to me, kids. The video game I'm not really allowed to talk about due to agreements signed, and I'm not sure where it is at the moment- but I'm attempting to learn how to use this program called Blender. Once I do, I'll actually attempt to create a video for the site first. See if I can tell one of my stories in 3D animation...ooo, ahh.
As always, look for more writing (and art!) here and in the future. And feel free to send your artwork, poetry, short stories, or anything (you can send your amateur porn, but I can't promise it'll be posted. Viruses I would prefer not to have though, you can keep all of those to yourselves- both human and computer). Send them to asimpleletterwriting@gmail.com
What I'm working on: A ton of things. Sadly, unless people start sending me things, I may only update the site occasionally. Once I work some kinks out, though, I'll be getting a lot of things done. Here's what I'm working on behind the scenes:
1. Soft news reports: I'm a journalist at heart, and once I find a good freeware program for editing video I'll be working on getting some news out there on the YouTube. I was in talks with some people before the computer crash, and hopefully they'll still be interested.
2. Hilarious videos: I also like to humor myself by making videos I find hilarious. What might that be? I have an idea up my sleeve I'm not going to talk about JUST yet, until this cough of mine that is killing me goes away (and I find that dag nabit editing program). Other than that I was in talks about doing a sitcom series, another mockumentary, or even something along the lines of...Glee.
3. Freelance!: Yes, that's right. I'm working freelance now, or going to attempt to work freelance. You can see my first column over at Unexplained Mysteries from the other day when the world was ending. I'm working on getting my work in other places as well- and if anyone would like to use my work or is looking for freelance, feel free to contact me via our contact page.
4. The new novel: Yes sir, yes sir. I am working on a new novel- and it'll be coming to you via Amazon Kindle. The novel is going to be an expansion of the short story "The Connection" which you can find in my book. Remember, I have a book
!5. A video game: I am working slowly on a video game on top of all of this as well. 5 projects is nothing to me, kids. The video game I'm not really allowed to talk about due to agreements signed, and I'm not sure where it is at the moment- but I'm attempting to learn how to use this program called Blender. Once I do, I'll actually attempt to create a video for the site first. See if I can tell one of my stories in 3D animation...ooo, ahh.
As always, look for more writing (and art!) here and in the future. And feel free to send your artwork, poetry, short stories, or anything (you can send your amateur porn, but I can't promise it'll be posted. Viruses I would prefer not to have though, you can keep all of those to yourselves- both human and computer). Send them to asimpleletterwriting@gmail.com
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Revelations
The doctor's office was always cold and though clean, felt dirty. Maybe it was because I had to take my pants off for my check up. And they always asked me to take my shoes off. This time I was in a gown, forced to have all my vital organs checked. Something was wrong with me, and I didn't know what it was.
"So Mr. Drab, what seems to be the problem?"
"I'm not sure. I have a lot of weird symptoms."
"The nurse wrote on your chart that you're constipated, you have frequent headaches, you haven't been eating properly."
"I'm just not hungry."
I watched as he looked over the words the nurse left him. He swallowed hard, rubbed his left eye and then sniffled.
"Not to be too personal, but how are you feeling?"
"Bad."
"How long have you felt...bad?"
"Awhile I guess."
"Do you have any problems with your mood?"
"What do you mean?"
"Are you happy?"
"No."
"Did something happen to make you that way?"
Two years ago...
I stood on the carpet of the room and watched as they all came in. One by one, the new freshmen we had to welcome to our dorm. It was tradition, but I was getting tired of it. And it was only just then the first time we had a group meeting with them all.
I wouldn't see many of their faces again, but I noticed one of them.
"Hey, I'm Jim."
"Hi."
Megan was shy at first, but within minutes was talking.
"Yeah, I love that show. With the vampires and all, and none of that bullshit new sparkle shit."
She was beautiful. I had so much in common with her- we were both Catholic, we both watched the same TV shows, we both were interested in painting. She was spontaneous and such a free spirit. But she was taken.
"Yeah, my boyfriend is such a dork."
"He looks like one."
"Oh, shut up."
I backed away. It was only my place to be a friend, as much as I could at least. But I was only comfortable as a distant friend, a colleague. Even though I told myself I had moved on I hadn't.
Months later, everything began to fall apart. Megan and her boyfriend fell apart, our friendship was changing as she began to move away from our group of friends. And that final night was so much fun. As I left she grabbed my hand, held onto it tight and I realized I still felt strongly about her.
"I don't know what to do."
"She's not your type, why are you doing this?"
"But she is. I've never met a girl like her."
"Jim, she's not worth it. Stop worrying about her."
"I'm sorry Carol, I just can't."
Friends advice was thrown aside. I became impulsive, speaking with her and the guy she was flirting with.
"No, dude- come on Jerry, she has a boyfriend. We gotta get out there and find girls who are single."
"Yeah, you're right."
And then I felt bad. Guilt fell in. They were happy. How could I stop happiness?
"Just go out with him, will you?"
"Why do you care so much about my dating life?"
"I'd rather not say."
"Why not? You get all up in my business and then won't tell me why? Did he put you up to this?"
"No."
"Then why are you acting this way?"
"Because I've had a crush on you for months and I just want you to be happy, OK?"
I freaked out. I did the only thing I knew how to, and wrote. I wrote every stinging emotion I felt, that had no reason to be felt. I gave into all of it. I made them out to be the bad guy, when there was no good or bad guy. It was the only way I knew how to write. It hurt them, but more hurt her than anything else. And no matter what I did, she would never accept my apology.
"Two years ago? You've been feeling this way for two years?"
"No. That was just the start of it all."
"What do you mean?"
"After that..."
I had a year still left in college, but I had enough credits to graduate early. I moved on quick, stopped caring about girls and focused on getting the right credits. Even when she walked in, I wanted nothing to really do with her. It was just another year of new freshmen.
"And you are?"
"Eliza."
"Hi, I'm Jim. You new here?"
"Yeah, freshmen."
"Cool."
She seemed shy. I stopped trying after that. She was cute, but I had to focus on myself. I had to focus on me. It didn't matter anyways, because she was always on her computer whenever I saw her out of her dorm. Always keeping to herself.
Then, of course, I found out the same thing I did with every girl. She had a boyfriend.
I studied. I focused. I met this other girl, Mariah, in a class of mine. I thought about asking her out, but never got up the courage to. I didn't have time anyways, I had to focus on me and we only had fun working on a project together. We'd never get along outside of class.
Then Eliza was single. I thought nothing of it, and I was simply friends with her. Not even friends, colleagues. I wanted nothing to really do with her, because I was completely content with life. I just started a new job, I was still toying with asking Mariah out. Then we started talking.
I thought from the get go that she was flirting with me, and I didn't want that. I had to focus on me. But it's hard to do that when you feel alone as much as I do. I gave her time I shouldn't have, spent more hours working on papers than I should have. But I liked talking with her, even if it was only online as I sat in the library and her in her dorm room.
I didn't want a relationship though, and I had to nip it all in the bud before it got there. I confronted her.
"Eliza, are you flirting with me? Because I feel like you're flirting with me."
"Well, I mean- I can't say I am because it all just depends on whether or not I think it's flirting."
"So is this flirting?"
"Let's just say it's getting to know you better."
"OK. I can do that."
I asked her out the next time I saw her. As friends. Just to get some dinner. I didn't really think anything of it, I just went with the flow and I had a lot of fun with her. She then asked to hang out with me again, and we went shopping for the holidays.
"I like to make my presents instead of buying them. I feel like it's more personal if you do that"
"I don't have time to do that. Or the talent."
The entire day was amazing. I spent it with her, finding most my gifts for friends and family. And instead of my usual feeling of tiredness from shopping, I was just so happy with everything. Then it was all just...like a fairytale.
"It's so easy."
"What's so easy?"
"I can't tell you."
"C'mon, what's so easy?"
She kept quiet as I drove her home- a back and forth flirtation.
"Fine, you want to know?" she asked as we sat in her driveway. "Come here."
We grew closer, and she kissed me. I was lost. I didn't want a relationship, what was I doing? I pulled away, scared. "I'm not that easy." I said with a hint of flirtation. She got out of my car and walked up to her door.
I drove off, around her block and headed home. I smiled. Did that just happen? I asked myself the question again and again. I called my friend, who was supposed to meet me for dinner, and she didn't answer. When my phone rang I didn't bother looking.
"Hey Deb- I just dropped Eliza off I'm driving back now."
"Oh uh, it's Eliza."
"Oh, hey sorry." I had a smile on my face hearing her voice.
"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for what happened. If that made things awkward or anything."
"No, don't worry about it. It wasn't awkward."
"Oh. OK. Well, I'll let you get back to driving then. Bye."
I knew then and there she was amazing, but I didn't want a relationship. I had doubts. As I sat down to dinner with my friends, I told them nothing of what happened. Told them we had fun. I paid little attention to the conversation, as my brain threw around the idea of letting go of so much. I was graduating college soon, the holidays were around the corner. I wanted to apply to places out of state, out of the country. I wanted to live free. But she was different. I could give up some of that, because she made me happier than I had been in a long time.
I couldn't understand it, but though I had my fears I knew I wanted to be with her. The next thing I knew, we sat in the back of my car in freezing weather.
"So what are we doing here?"
"What do you mean?"
"Like us. Are we just friends or...do you want to be more?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You're going to make me say it, aren't you?"
"Say what?"
"Ugh, will you go out with me?"
"Well I've already been going out with you-"
"Shut up, you know what I mean." I smiled. So did she.
"Yes. I will."
"You don't think it's too soon do you?"
"No. I want to."
"Cool."
Nothing really changed. It was slow going. Which I liked. She was so understanding, and I didn't have to tell her anything. She just knew. We just worked so well. Then our ideologies got in the way. We began arguing over things we couldn't control. We were happy, but there were problems we had to work through and neither of us wanted to budge. We couldn't compromise, even though we wanted to.
Then she just snapped on me one day. I was making sure she was OK, asked her what the problem was and she said I was the problem. That I was being self-centered and idiotic because I was worried about her well being. It hurt. She had been pushing me away, and I knew it. She didn't even want to look at me the time before we hung out. She was done with me, and that was that.
I tried to talk her through our problems, but I broke down. Maybe because I had let go of so much for her. I had let go of my fears, I had let go of my plans for my future. Maybe it was my mistake. Maybe I should never had met her parents the week before. Maybe I should have waited to ask her to be with me, but I knew she was special and I didn't want her to leave me.
And then that was it. It was over. And I lost it. Because at that moment I realized Eliza was the only thing I had that was keeping me happy. And she walked away. Just like that.
"Mr. Drab, it seems like you might have some issues with depression."
"And then..."
I couldn't get over her. I saw her in everything. A measly less than two months with her, and I was more broken than I had ever been. I couldn't explain my behavior. I wanted nothing to do with anything. Nothing made me happy. All I wanted was her again. All I wanted was to make things better.
She wanted to be friends, so I tried that. She said close friends, but she still pushed away. And my own friends, they were only sort of there. Only a few talked to me about it, the rest acted as though it was a joke. But it's how they always acted.
Then I started telling them the truth. I had an impulsive desire to just come out and tell every single person who I had something to say to the truth. Every jackass that ever pissed me off, every motherfucker who crossed me. All the awful things I had done and held on to. I bitched, I laughed, I apologized.
"Mr. Drab, I'm not a psychologist. You need to speak with one, I believe. You have a lot of the symptoms of-"
"And then they started walking away..."
They didn't understand what I was doing. It wasn't normal for me to stand up for myself nor was it normal for me to apologize for all the little things I was apologizing for. No one understood but a handful of people. A very close friend then decided to walk away because I bitched out some girl he kept around in case he needed a picture of her tits. Because the people I hung out with were judgmental and hated being called out on it. And he was one of the worst.
"Seriously, Mr. Drab-"
It all came down on me. I wanted to die. I wanted to slit my wrists. I stood at work, in the kitchen washing dishes...I held the knife to my wrists. It took everything in me to not let the knife slice through. Everything.
"Mr. Drab, I-"
"And now I'm here. Because I can't understand why I feel so sick."
"I think you should definitely see a psychologist. I can recommend one. It doesn't seem like this is an issue I can deal with. It sounds like you're dealing with clinical depression. Might even be something else that makes you act this way."
"Are you saying I'll have to take pills?"
"Maybe."
"I don't want to take pills. I don't want to go to some crazy doctor. I just want my life to be better again."
"Here. You'll be fine, Jim. You'll be fine."
I hope so. I hope so.
"So Mr. Drab, what seems to be the problem?"
"I'm not sure. I have a lot of weird symptoms."
"The nurse wrote on your chart that you're constipated, you have frequent headaches, you haven't been eating properly."
"I'm just not hungry."
I watched as he looked over the words the nurse left him. He swallowed hard, rubbed his left eye and then sniffled.
"Not to be too personal, but how are you feeling?"
"Bad."
"How long have you felt...bad?"
"Awhile I guess."
"Do you have any problems with your mood?"
"What do you mean?"
"Are you happy?"
"No."
"Did something happen to make you that way?"
Two years ago...
I stood on the carpet of the room and watched as they all came in. One by one, the new freshmen we had to welcome to our dorm. It was tradition, but I was getting tired of it. And it was only just then the first time we had a group meeting with them all.
I wouldn't see many of their faces again, but I noticed one of them.
"Hey, I'm Jim."
"Hi."
Megan was shy at first, but within minutes was talking.
"Yeah, I love that show. With the vampires and all, and none of that bullshit new sparkle shit."
She was beautiful. I had so much in common with her- we were both Catholic, we both watched the same TV shows, we both were interested in painting. She was spontaneous and such a free spirit. But she was taken.
"Yeah, my boyfriend is such a dork."
"He looks like one."
"Oh, shut up."
I backed away. It was only my place to be a friend, as much as I could at least. But I was only comfortable as a distant friend, a colleague. Even though I told myself I had moved on I hadn't.
Months later, everything began to fall apart. Megan and her boyfriend fell apart, our friendship was changing as she began to move away from our group of friends. And that final night was so much fun. As I left she grabbed my hand, held onto it tight and I realized I still felt strongly about her.
"I don't know what to do."
"She's not your type, why are you doing this?"
"But she is. I've never met a girl like her."
"Jim, she's not worth it. Stop worrying about her."
"I'm sorry Carol, I just can't."
Friends advice was thrown aside. I became impulsive, speaking with her and the guy she was flirting with.
"No, dude- come on Jerry, she has a boyfriend. We gotta get out there and find girls who are single."
"Yeah, you're right."
And then I felt bad. Guilt fell in. They were happy. How could I stop happiness?
"Just go out with him, will you?"
"Why do you care so much about my dating life?"
"I'd rather not say."
"Why not? You get all up in my business and then won't tell me why? Did he put you up to this?"
"No."
"Then why are you acting this way?"
"Because I've had a crush on you for months and I just want you to be happy, OK?"
I freaked out. I did the only thing I knew how to, and wrote. I wrote every stinging emotion I felt, that had no reason to be felt. I gave into all of it. I made them out to be the bad guy, when there was no good or bad guy. It was the only way I knew how to write. It hurt them, but more hurt her than anything else. And no matter what I did, she would never accept my apology.
"Two years ago? You've been feeling this way for two years?"
"No. That was just the start of it all."
"What do you mean?"
"After that..."
I had a year still left in college, but I had enough credits to graduate early. I moved on quick, stopped caring about girls and focused on getting the right credits. Even when she walked in, I wanted nothing to really do with her. It was just another year of new freshmen.
"And you are?"
"Eliza."
"Hi, I'm Jim. You new here?"
"Yeah, freshmen."
"Cool."
She seemed shy. I stopped trying after that. She was cute, but I had to focus on myself. I had to focus on me. It didn't matter anyways, because she was always on her computer whenever I saw her out of her dorm. Always keeping to herself.
Then, of course, I found out the same thing I did with every girl. She had a boyfriend.
I studied. I focused. I met this other girl, Mariah, in a class of mine. I thought about asking her out, but never got up the courage to. I didn't have time anyways, I had to focus on me and we only had fun working on a project together. We'd never get along outside of class.
Then Eliza was single. I thought nothing of it, and I was simply friends with her. Not even friends, colleagues. I wanted nothing to really do with her, because I was completely content with life. I just started a new job, I was still toying with asking Mariah out. Then we started talking.
I thought from the get go that she was flirting with me, and I didn't want that. I had to focus on me. But it's hard to do that when you feel alone as much as I do. I gave her time I shouldn't have, spent more hours working on papers than I should have. But I liked talking with her, even if it was only online as I sat in the library and her in her dorm room.
I didn't want a relationship though, and I had to nip it all in the bud before it got there. I confronted her.
"Eliza, are you flirting with me? Because I feel like you're flirting with me."
"Well, I mean- I can't say I am because it all just depends on whether or not I think it's flirting."
"So is this flirting?"
"Let's just say it's getting to know you better."
"OK. I can do that."
I asked her out the next time I saw her. As friends. Just to get some dinner. I didn't really think anything of it, I just went with the flow and I had a lot of fun with her. She then asked to hang out with me again, and we went shopping for the holidays.
"I like to make my presents instead of buying them. I feel like it's more personal if you do that"
"I don't have time to do that. Or the talent."
The entire day was amazing. I spent it with her, finding most my gifts for friends and family. And instead of my usual feeling of tiredness from shopping, I was just so happy with everything. Then it was all just...like a fairytale.
"It's so easy."
"What's so easy?"
"I can't tell you."
"C'mon, what's so easy?"
She kept quiet as I drove her home- a back and forth flirtation.
"Fine, you want to know?" she asked as we sat in her driveway. "Come here."
We grew closer, and she kissed me. I was lost. I didn't want a relationship, what was I doing? I pulled away, scared. "I'm not that easy." I said with a hint of flirtation. She got out of my car and walked up to her door.
I drove off, around her block and headed home. I smiled. Did that just happen? I asked myself the question again and again. I called my friend, who was supposed to meet me for dinner, and she didn't answer. When my phone rang I didn't bother looking.
"Hey Deb- I just dropped Eliza off I'm driving back now."
"Oh uh, it's Eliza."
"Oh, hey sorry." I had a smile on my face hearing her voice.
"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for what happened. If that made things awkward or anything."
"No, don't worry about it. It wasn't awkward."
"Oh. OK. Well, I'll let you get back to driving then. Bye."
I knew then and there she was amazing, but I didn't want a relationship. I had doubts. As I sat down to dinner with my friends, I told them nothing of what happened. Told them we had fun. I paid little attention to the conversation, as my brain threw around the idea of letting go of so much. I was graduating college soon, the holidays were around the corner. I wanted to apply to places out of state, out of the country. I wanted to live free. But she was different. I could give up some of that, because she made me happier than I had been in a long time.
I couldn't understand it, but though I had my fears I knew I wanted to be with her. The next thing I knew, we sat in the back of my car in freezing weather.
"So what are we doing here?"
"What do you mean?"
"Like us. Are we just friends or...do you want to be more?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You're going to make me say it, aren't you?"
"Say what?"
"Ugh, will you go out with me?"
"Well I've already been going out with you-"
"Shut up, you know what I mean." I smiled. So did she.
"Yes. I will."
"You don't think it's too soon do you?"
"No. I want to."
"Cool."
Nothing really changed. It was slow going. Which I liked. She was so understanding, and I didn't have to tell her anything. She just knew. We just worked so well. Then our ideologies got in the way. We began arguing over things we couldn't control. We were happy, but there were problems we had to work through and neither of us wanted to budge. We couldn't compromise, even though we wanted to.
Then she just snapped on me one day. I was making sure she was OK, asked her what the problem was and she said I was the problem. That I was being self-centered and idiotic because I was worried about her well being. It hurt. She had been pushing me away, and I knew it. She didn't even want to look at me the time before we hung out. She was done with me, and that was that.
I tried to talk her through our problems, but I broke down. Maybe because I had let go of so much for her. I had let go of my fears, I had let go of my plans for my future. Maybe it was my mistake. Maybe I should never had met her parents the week before. Maybe I should have waited to ask her to be with me, but I knew she was special and I didn't want her to leave me.
And then that was it. It was over. And I lost it. Because at that moment I realized Eliza was the only thing I had that was keeping me happy. And she walked away. Just like that.
"Mr. Drab, it seems like you might have some issues with depression."
"And then..."
I couldn't get over her. I saw her in everything. A measly less than two months with her, and I was more broken than I had ever been. I couldn't explain my behavior. I wanted nothing to do with anything. Nothing made me happy. All I wanted was her again. All I wanted was to make things better.
She wanted to be friends, so I tried that. She said close friends, but she still pushed away. And my own friends, they were only sort of there. Only a few talked to me about it, the rest acted as though it was a joke. But it's how they always acted.
Then I started telling them the truth. I had an impulsive desire to just come out and tell every single person who I had something to say to the truth. Every jackass that ever pissed me off, every motherfucker who crossed me. All the awful things I had done and held on to. I bitched, I laughed, I apologized.
"Mr. Drab, I'm not a psychologist. You need to speak with one, I believe. You have a lot of the symptoms of-"
"And then they started walking away..."
They didn't understand what I was doing. It wasn't normal for me to stand up for myself nor was it normal for me to apologize for all the little things I was apologizing for. No one understood but a handful of people. A very close friend then decided to walk away because I bitched out some girl he kept around in case he needed a picture of her tits. Because the people I hung out with were judgmental and hated being called out on it. And he was one of the worst.
"Seriously, Mr. Drab-"
It all came down on me. I wanted to die. I wanted to slit my wrists. I stood at work, in the kitchen washing dishes...I held the knife to my wrists. It took everything in me to not let the knife slice through. Everything.
"Mr. Drab, I-"
"And now I'm here. Because I can't understand why I feel so sick."
"I think you should definitely see a psychologist. I can recommend one. It doesn't seem like this is an issue I can deal with. It sounds like you're dealing with clinical depression. Might even be something else that makes you act this way."
"Are you saying I'll have to take pills?"
"Maybe."
"I don't want to take pills. I don't want to go to some crazy doctor. I just want my life to be better again."
"Here. You'll be fine, Jim. You'll be fine."
I hope so. I hope so.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Demons
"Hey dude, so you asked me to come here."
"Ah, Kevin. Glad you could make it." Jack put the book down he was reading and shook Kevin's hand.
"Don't make me regret it. What do you want?"
"Have a seat. You want to order anything?"
"No. Not hungry."
"Really? I'm surprised you haven't worked up an appetite being a, how should I put this? Asshole."
"I will walk away right now."
"Ya know, go ahead. Don't hear what I have to say. But since you came all the way here, I'm sure you're at the very least curious."
"Fine." Kevin waved his hand and leaned back in the booth, waiting for Jack to speak.
"We had a falling out. Shit happens. Shit was said. We disagreed on so many key points- and I sucked it all up and let things slide. Hell, I apologized forthright and you never did say you were sorry. Makes me sometimes wonder if you were and think you weren't, but that's besides the point here." Jack took out a glass bottle, filled with a clear liquid.
Kevin eyed the glass bottle, curious. He licked his lips in fear.
"Even though you won't say you're sorry for calling my sister a loser. For all the awful jokes you've told, because you didn't like her. For every judgemental thing you've said about people you barely know- even though you won't say you're sorry...I forgive you. Because honestly the only people who in the end really will forgive you is Jesus and me. Not to say I'm Jesus or anything, but if you're looking for forgiveness from a friend- and true honest forgiveness and not that little bullshit holding it in until one day it erupts kind of thing...then yeah, you're only looking at me."
Kevin scoffed at the idea.
"Yeah, I know. You're thinking so many people would forgive you. They won't. Not when they realize you were really manipulating them to do what you wanted. Wording everything just the right way, and forcing your ideas onto friends and colleagues alike until they either agreed with your or walked away. And if they walked away, all you could say is they didn't understand you. The difference here is, despite everything you said and did- you walked away from me. Because I had the balls to stand up to your jackassery. To tell you the truth."
Jack took out a shot glass and set it on the table. Kevin eyed it, nervous.
"And not just admit that I was wrong, but that you were wrong. And that you were wrong so many times. And you didn't like that, because you don't like being wrong, do you Kevin?"
Kevin was quiet. Licking his lips, nervously.
"And thus I lost trust in you and you lost trust in me, because we both are similar. We both have issues in our past that make us feel abandoned, betrayed. And we put on these masks to hide ourselves. We put on these masks to make our insanity seem OK. To make our actions plausible and reasonable. We don't care that someone gets hurt, if we don't agree with them. And what was our conclusion? Do you remember? You know why you said we did these things?"
Kevin said nothing.
"I know you do. You told me you were possessed by a demon, and you could sense I was too. For years I felt like I had been, like something deep inside me was making me do these things. And it was a demon, but not the kind you're thinking of. It was a demon I had created. The past. Every little detail of every bad thing I had done or every bad thing someone had done to me. Every lie I told, every smile that wasn't a smile. Every second I lied to others and myself. My issues, always wanting to feel loved because I never did. I never felt love from my parents, I never felt it from my family, I never felt it from my friends. And when I did feel it, I just wound up hurt. I couldn't trust anyone but myself, and even then that was a lie. And you did the same damn thing. You never felt loved either."
Jack took out another shot glass and set it on the table.
"We went through life as friends, knowing this about each other. We coped with our demon the best we could. You used sex. I used drugs. We both used art. We were content with that, but I never agreed with what you did and you never agreed with what I did. Our coping mechanisms- both of us striving to feel what love is...were different. And we could never agree on that. We could only agree on art. And art is where we lived, but the difference was that I needed the success...and you didn't. You were OK coping with your demon through sex. Drugs didn't do it for me though, because I didn't have somebody else there with me. I didn't have someone acting as though they wanted me. The drugs never filled a hole that I had, but the sex filled yours."
Jack opened the bottle and set the cap on the table.
"I strived for success. For acceptance as someone normal. We both thought we were special, but were striving for normality. Giving our demons any chance to show themselves. And that's where we began to differ. You could cope with yours, as long as your demon took over. But as mine couldn't cope, my demon slowly came out in other ways. I lashed out, I became depressed, I attached to people I shouldn't have. I became obsessed with the idea of time and the reason why I am here. I wanted to prove to myself that I wasn't normal. I was meant to succeed in life, and I had a reason- but everyone else didn't. I saw the future, just like you. I sensed the demons just like you did. I felt the world as different as the guy standing next to me."
Jack poured the liquid into the first shot glass.
"And these demons, they became real. You even named yours. Our memories lapsed on purpose. We didn't want to admit we were responsible for such horrible acts. We didn't want to admit we were normal. We wanted to be special, because we wanted to be loved. And then I finally felt as though I was loved. And I was scared I was going to lose it. I was so scared. And then I did, because I was scared. Because I was so fucking scared of losing something I fucking lost it. Doesn't that scream irony? Doesn't that make you want to write a book about how ironic it is?"
Jack breathed in heavily. He swallowed hard and poured the liquid into the other shot glass.
"And that's when I realized, I was responsible for everything. I wasn't possessed by anything. I never saw the future. I don't know what I saw sometimes. It doesn't matter. We rely on the paranormal to explain the normal. Because, here's the key Kevin...anyone who thinks they're special, is really normal. Everyone has problems, everyone has their little issues. And everyone is told to think they're special. And it's irony again, because the people who are special, think they're normal. Think about all of the people who really have something extraordinary. All of them think it's normal. They think nothing of it. And yet look around you. Everyone of these people thinks they're special. In reality they are but normal."
"What's the point of all this?"
"The point is that you and I are normal human beings. And to be human, is to err. So I forgive you, for being a normal human being." Jack slid the shot glass over slowly. "And I want you, as a friend, to deal with your demon. Let's start with trust."
"What is this?"
"That's the point. Trust me. because I'll trust you here. You can choose what happens. We can both do the shots. You can do your shot, or I can only do my shot. It's all based on trust. Do you think I put poison in there? Do you think I pissed in a cup and am going to make you drink my own piss water? Or is it something you're allergic to that's in there? Maybe even if I drink this, you could drink it and start having an allergic reaction. Or vice versa. Maybe I put something in it that I'm allergic to, and I trust that you won't make me drink it. Or maybe nothing will happen. So, what will it be?"
"I don't want to play this game."
"What will it be, Kevin?"
"You really think trust is the problem? Man, you're so far off. You think-"
"I'm not here for one of your little speeches where you have to give your opinion on every little thing that's happened. I'm here to forgive you, and let you make up for what the fuck has happened. All of the shit you've done, I'm letting go of. So you can either make a choice right now, or watch me make one for you- because apparently you can't even do that."
"Fine," Kevin grabbed the shot and swallowed it whole. "There. I trust you. Are you happy now?"
"Feel any different?"
"No."
"Let's wait. How's your job, by the way?"
"It's OK."
They talked for a bit. Ten minutes passed.
"It's been ten minutes. Feel any different?"
"No. I feel fine."
Jack grabbed his shot and knocked it back.
"Good stuff."
"It was just water, wasn't it?"
"Water."
"See, I trust you."
"Then you trust me that there is no demon inside either of us controlling us. We are the only ones in control."
"I don't know."
"There is no demon. You created it."
"It controls me man, I can't-"
"Stop. You're normal with issues. There is no demon."
"How can you say that?"
"Because that was holy water you just drank." Kevin sat, staring at the shot glass. "Now you can really face your demons."
"Ah, Kevin. Glad you could make it." Jack put the book down he was reading and shook Kevin's hand.
"Don't make me regret it. What do you want?"
"Have a seat. You want to order anything?"
"No. Not hungry."
"Really? I'm surprised you haven't worked up an appetite being a, how should I put this? Asshole."
"I will walk away right now."
"Ya know, go ahead. Don't hear what I have to say. But since you came all the way here, I'm sure you're at the very least curious."
"Fine." Kevin waved his hand and leaned back in the booth, waiting for Jack to speak.
"We had a falling out. Shit happens. Shit was said. We disagreed on so many key points- and I sucked it all up and let things slide. Hell, I apologized forthright and you never did say you were sorry. Makes me sometimes wonder if you were and think you weren't, but that's besides the point here." Jack took out a glass bottle, filled with a clear liquid.
Kevin eyed the glass bottle, curious. He licked his lips in fear.
"Even though you won't say you're sorry for calling my sister a loser. For all the awful jokes you've told, because you didn't like her. For every judgemental thing you've said about people you barely know- even though you won't say you're sorry...I forgive you. Because honestly the only people who in the end really will forgive you is Jesus and me. Not to say I'm Jesus or anything, but if you're looking for forgiveness from a friend- and true honest forgiveness and not that little bullshit holding it in until one day it erupts kind of thing...then yeah, you're only looking at me."
Kevin scoffed at the idea.
"Yeah, I know. You're thinking so many people would forgive you. They won't. Not when they realize you were really manipulating them to do what you wanted. Wording everything just the right way, and forcing your ideas onto friends and colleagues alike until they either agreed with your or walked away. And if they walked away, all you could say is they didn't understand you. The difference here is, despite everything you said and did- you walked away from me. Because I had the balls to stand up to your jackassery. To tell you the truth."
Jack took out a shot glass and set it on the table. Kevin eyed it, nervous.
"And not just admit that I was wrong, but that you were wrong. And that you were wrong so many times. And you didn't like that, because you don't like being wrong, do you Kevin?"
Kevin was quiet. Licking his lips, nervously.
"And thus I lost trust in you and you lost trust in me, because we both are similar. We both have issues in our past that make us feel abandoned, betrayed. And we put on these masks to hide ourselves. We put on these masks to make our insanity seem OK. To make our actions plausible and reasonable. We don't care that someone gets hurt, if we don't agree with them. And what was our conclusion? Do you remember? You know why you said we did these things?"
Kevin said nothing.
"I know you do. You told me you were possessed by a demon, and you could sense I was too. For years I felt like I had been, like something deep inside me was making me do these things. And it was a demon, but not the kind you're thinking of. It was a demon I had created. The past. Every little detail of every bad thing I had done or every bad thing someone had done to me. Every lie I told, every smile that wasn't a smile. Every second I lied to others and myself. My issues, always wanting to feel loved because I never did. I never felt love from my parents, I never felt it from my family, I never felt it from my friends. And when I did feel it, I just wound up hurt. I couldn't trust anyone but myself, and even then that was a lie. And you did the same damn thing. You never felt loved either."
Jack took out another shot glass and set it on the table.
"We went through life as friends, knowing this about each other. We coped with our demon the best we could. You used sex. I used drugs. We both used art. We were content with that, but I never agreed with what you did and you never agreed with what I did. Our coping mechanisms- both of us striving to feel what love is...were different. And we could never agree on that. We could only agree on art. And art is where we lived, but the difference was that I needed the success...and you didn't. You were OK coping with your demon through sex. Drugs didn't do it for me though, because I didn't have somebody else there with me. I didn't have someone acting as though they wanted me. The drugs never filled a hole that I had, but the sex filled yours."
Jack opened the bottle and set the cap on the table.
"I strived for success. For acceptance as someone normal. We both thought we were special, but were striving for normality. Giving our demons any chance to show themselves. And that's where we began to differ. You could cope with yours, as long as your demon took over. But as mine couldn't cope, my demon slowly came out in other ways. I lashed out, I became depressed, I attached to people I shouldn't have. I became obsessed with the idea of time and the reason why I am here. I wanted to prove to myself that I wasn't normal. I was meant to succeed in life, and I had a reason- but everyone else didn't. I saw the future, just like you. I sensed the demons just like you did. I felt the world as different as the guy standing next to me."
Jack poured the liquid into the first shot glass.
"And these demons, they became real. You even named yours. Our memories lapsed on purpose. We didn't want to admit we were responsible for such horrible acts. We didn't want to admit we were normal. We wanted to be special, because we wanted to be loved. And then I finally felt as though I was loved. And I was scared I was going to lose it. I was so scared. And then I did, because I was scared. Because I was so fucking scared of losing something I fucking lost it. Doesn't that scream irony? Doesn't that make you want to write a book about how ironic it is?"
Jack breathed in heavily. He swallowed hard and poured the liquid into the other shot glass.
"And that's when I realized, I was responsible for everything. I wasn't possessed by anything. I never saw the future. I don't know what I saw sometimes. It doesn't matter. We rely on the paranormal to explain the normal. Because, here's the key Kevin...anyone who thinks they're special, is really normal. Everyone has problems, everyone has their little issues. And everyone is told to think they're special. And it's irony again, because the people who are special, think they're normal. Think about all of the people who really have something extraordinary. All of them think it's normal. They think nothing of it. And yet look around you. Everyone of these people thinks they're special. In reality they are but normal."
"What's the point of all this?"
"The point is that you and I are normal human beings. And to be human, is to err. So I forgive you, for being a normal human being." Jack slid the shot glass over slowly. "And I want you, as a friend, to deal with your demon. Let's start with trust."
"What is this?"
"That's the point. Trust me. because I'll trust you here. You can choose what happens. We can both do the shots. You can do your shot, or I can only do my shot. It's all based on trust. Do you think I put poison in there? Do you think I pissed in a cup and am going to make you drink my own piss water? Or is it something you're allergic to that's in there? Maybe even if I drink this, you could drink it and start having an allergic reaction. Or vice versa. Maybe I put something in it that I'm allergic to, and I trust that you won't make me drink it. Or maybe nothing will happen. So, what will it be?"
"I don't want to play this game."
"What will it be, Kevin?"
"You really think trust is the problem? Man, you're so far off. You think-"
"I'm not here for one of your little speeches where you have to give your opinion on every little thing that's happened. I'm here to forgive you, and let you make up for what the fuck has happened. All of the shit you've done, I'm letting go of. So you can either make a choice right now, or watch me make one for you- because apparently you can't even do that."
"Fine," Kevin grabbed the shot and swallowed it whole. "There. I trust you. Are you happy now?"
"Feel any different?"
"No."
"Let's wait. How's your job, by the way?"
"It's OK."
They talked for a bit. Ten minutes passed.
"It's been ten minutes. Feel any different?"
"No. I feel fine."
Jack grabbed his shot and knocked it back.
"Good stuff."
"It was just water, wasn't it?"
"Water."
"See, I trust you."
"Then you trust me that there is no demon inside either of us controlling us. We are the only ones in control."
"I don't know."
"There is no demon. You created it."
"It controls me man, I can't-"
"Stop. You're normal with issues. There is no demon."
"How can you say that?"
"Because that was holy water you just drank." Kevin sat, staring at the shot glass. "Now you can really face your demons."
Monday, May 9, 2011
Author
3 AM. I was still awake, writing. My story grew larger, coming to an end. Each keystroke bringing to life the end to another story.
"And they all lived happily ever after..." I said, the last keystroke adding a final period to my work. I saved, sent it off to the publisher. They would make their edits, send it back, tell me it was shit and to rewrite certain parts. Not that I cared, my agent was having publishers call him.
"Adam, you have deals coming in from everyone. Time wants you to do a cover story, New York Times is offering you a weekly column- along with every other newspaper. Random House wants you to write another horror story, Pearson wants a text book on English, Harper Collins called and is offering you two million just to sign a book deal and they don't care what it's about."
I stood in front of him, eyes barely open, half listening to his rambling on about how Oprah wanted me to be on her new show as a guest and have my latest book- A Wandering Stare- for her book club.
"So what would you like to work on?"
"Work on? Oh right. I was thinking of taking a break. After the last book, I need some time to think."
"Time to think? You're on top, Adam. You can't just quit when you're on top. Two million dollars from HarperCollins!"
I yawned. "Yeah, but it's OK. I made three million on A Wandering Stare so what's it matter? It's still selling too."
"Like hotcakes. You are on fire, and you're writing sets the world ablaze. You realize you have more potential than J.K. Rowling? Your book appeals to everyone."
"I wasn't really trying to appeal to five year olds, though."
"And yet, here look- I'll show you, a kindergarten class is using your book for an art project. An art project, Adam!"
"You do realize my name is Alan, right?"
"Alan, yes- what have I been saying?"
4 AM. The computer screen glared back at me, waiting for me to send the email off to the publisher. I was supposed to have it sent hours ago, but I didn't care.
I had been too busy to mess with sleep. I had just finished going around to talk shows, talking about my book. It was tiring.
"So tell us, what is your book about?"
I hated that question. It wasn't about just one thing. It was about so many things.
"It's a tough question to answer. What do you think the book is about?"
"Uh, well- I haven't actually read it just yet." Typical. On-air hosts asking me a question they don't care about.
"Well, when you do you can get back to me." That was my greatest response to them. I did it to every single host that said it, and so many did that someone made a YouTube video of me saying it over and over again.
"lolol this is wut the news is today geez that guy is such a hack"
5 AM. Comments like that never distracted me before. I enjoyed watching myself sing in autotune, especially when all my words were twisted to talking about sexual positions. At least, that's how they sounded. Now the comments make me wonder. Am I a hack, or are they just haters? What I wanted was to change the world, but who I have I truly inspired?
"I'm your biggest fan."
"I'm sure you are, who am I making this out to?" Everyone said they were my biggest fan. I was so tired of it. Every autograph signing someone told me they found me an inspiration. They told me they wanted to become a writer.
"Molly."
"Alright, there you go Molly."
"Thank you. Thank you so much." They all were so grateful for what I had accomplished, but to me it was just work.
"I'm your biggest fan."
"I'm sure you are, who am I making this out to?" I was just a robot on repeat.
"Michael." Every name meant nothing. It was just hard to keep track of how to spell everything.
"How do you spell that?"
"M-i-c...h-a-e-l."
"There you are Michael, thanks for being a fan."
"Thank you. You're a true inspiration." I could only smile. I was on top but I didn't care. I had fame, but I didn't care. I was never meant for this life.
6 AM. Why the hell am I still awake? The email that I was supposed to send hours ago sits there still, saved as a draft now for hours. I wasn't interested in actually sending it. I didn't care to. All I did was google my own name.
"Rumor: Author of 'A Wandering Stare' signs deal with NBC for TV show"
The headlines were hilarious to read. Rumors that I was dating Selena Gomez or Taylor Swift abounded- even though I had never met either of them. I happened to meet Ellen Page at a book signing event, and had lunch with her one day and the news was all about us dating. It was lunch. If it was dating my work would suffer.
I never signed a deal with NBC, but my agent was in talks. My agent was always in talks.
"Adam, you have to do this. It's a six point five million dollar deal for three years. Do that math, you'll be famous for three more years writing sitcoms and hey- maybe they'll even let you host Saturday Night Live."
"I don't think they'd let me host that show or even want me to be on camera. I don't have the right look."
"They'll give you that look. Listen, it's all about where you are and who you know. Now, have you been working on a sequel to A Wandering Stare?"
"A sequel? There's no sequel. There can't be. The story ended when I did."
"No, your fans want it. You signed a deal for a sequel already, it's supposed to be done in 6 months."
He always had something. He told me that 6 months ago.
"Your success is prevalent on this sequel. You have to write it beautifully, but be fast about it. They want it out by Thanksgiving. You got 6 months to send them something or your career is over."
I wrote. I ignored the rest of the world. Every keystroke to finish this story they wanted. Every second giving them my soul.
7 AM. The sun was up. The email wasn't sent. I hadn't put any effort into my writing. I didn't care. What I had become was not something I wanted. Changing the world with my work is what I wanted. This was Hollywood garbage. No one saw the true meaning of my work.
I read over the story again. I hadn't titled it, but I enjoyed it. I knew that when they asked me on talk shows what it was about. I knew what I would say when fans called me an inspiration. I knew what I would say when my agent called me Adam again.
8 AM. I clicked my mouse over to the main part of the letter and erased my standard reply.
"I apologize for my tardiness. I wanted to insure it was a great read."
I hit send, got up and laid in my bed. There was no good way to conclude what I had done. I conformed, but I hated it. I couldn't die, because I still wanted to make a difference and I feared death. Drugs never were something I was good with, and neither was alcohol. I had no ending for how to deal with my problem. I could only sleep and hope that one day I would come to some conclusion.
If only that was a proper ending.
"And they all lived happily ever after..." I said, the last keystroke adding a final period to my work. I saved, sent it off to the publisher. They would make their edits, send it back, tell me it was shit and to rewrite certain parts. Not that I cared, my agent was having publishers call him.
"Adam, you have deals coming in from everyone. Time wants you to do a cover story, New York Times is offering you a weekly column- along with every other newspaper. Random House wants you to write another horror story, Pearson wants a text book on English, Harper Collins called and is offering you two million just to sign a book deal and they don't care what it's about."
I stood in front of him, eyes barely open, half listening to his rambling on about how Oprah wanted me to be on her new show as a guest and have my latest book- A Wandering Stare- for her book club.
"So what would you like to work on?"
"Work on? Oh right. I was thinking of taking a break. After the last book, I need some time to think."
"Time to think? You're on top, Adam. You can't just quit when you're on top. Two million dollars from HarperCollins!"
I yawned. "Yeah, but it's OK. I made three million on A Wandering Stare so what's it matter? It's still selling too."
"Like hotcakes. You are on fire, and you're writing sets the world ablaze. You realize you have more potential than J.K. Rowling? Your book appeals to everyone."
"I wasn't really trying to appeal to five year olds, though."
"And yet, here look- I'll show you, a kindergarten class is using your book for an art project. An art project, Adam!"
"You do realize my name is Alan, right?"
"Alan, yes- what have I been saying?"
4 AM. The computer screen glared back at me, waiting for me to send the email off to the publisher. I was supposed to have it sent hours ago, but I didn't care.
I had been too busy to mess with sleep. I had just finished going around to talk shows, talking about my book. It was tiring.
"So tell us, what is your book about?"
I hated that question. It wasn't about just one thing. It was about so many things.
"It's a tough question to answer. What do you think the book is about?"
"Uh, well- I haven't actually read it just yet." Typical. On-air hosts asking me a question they don't care about.
"Well, when you do you can get back to me." That was my greatest response to them. I did it to every single host that said it, and so many did that someone made a YouTube video of me saying it over and over again.
"lolol this is wut the news is today geez that guy is such a hack"
5 AM. Comments like that never distracted me before. I enjoyed watching myself sing in autotune, especially when all my words were twisted to talking about sexual positions. At least, that's how they sounded. Now the comments make me wonder. Am I a hack, or are they just haters? What I wanted was to change the world, but who I have I truly inspired?
"I'm your biggest fan."
"I'm sure you are, who am I making this out to?" Everyone said they were my biggest fan. I was so tired of it. Every autograph signing someone told me they found me an inspiration. They told me they wanted to become a writer.
"Molly."
"Alright, there you go Molly."
"Thank you. Thank you so much." They all were so grateful for what I had accomplished, but to me it was just work.
"I'm your biggest fan."
"I'm sure you are, who am I making this out to?" I was just a robot on repeat.
"Michael." Every name meant nothing. It was just hard to keep track of how to spell everything.
"How do you spell that?"
"M-i-c...h-a-e-l."
"There you are Michael, thanks for being a fan."
"Thank you. You're a true inspiration." I could only smile. I was on top but I didn't care. I had fame, but I didn't care. I was never meant for this life.
6 AM. Why the hell am I still awake? The email that I was supposed to send hours ago sits there still, saved as a draft now for hours. I wasn't interested in actually sending it. I didn't care to. All I did was google my own name.
"Rumor: Author of 'A Wandering Stare' signs deal with NBC for TV show"
The headlines were hilarious to read. Rumors that I was dating Selena Gomez or Taylor Swift abounded- even though I had never met either of them. I happened to meet Ellen Page at a book signing event, and had lunch with her one day and the news was all about us dating. It was lunch. If it was dating my work would suffer.
I never signed a deal with NBC, but my agent was in talks. My agent was always in talks.
"Adam, you have to do this. It's a six point five million dollar deal for three years. Do that math, you'll be famous for three more years writing sitcoms and hey- maybe they'll even let you host Saturday Night Live."
"I don't think they'd let me host that show or even want me to be on camera. I don't have the right look."
"They'll give you that look. Listen, it's all about where you are and who you know. Now, have you been working on a sequel to A Wandering Stare?"
"A sequel? There's no sequel. There can't be. The story ended when I did."
"No, your fans want it. You signed a deal for a sequel already, it's supposed to be done in 6 months."
He always had something. He told me that 6 months ago.
"Your success is prevalent on this sequel. You have to write it beautifully, but be fast about it. They want it out by Thanksgiving. You got 6 months to send them something or your career is over."
I wrote. I ignored the rest of the world. Every keystroke to finish this story they wanted. Every second giving them my soul.
7 AM. The sun was up. The email wasn't sent. I hadn't put any effort into my writing. I didn't care. What I had become was not something I wanted. Changing the world with my work is what I wanted. This was Hollywood garbage. No one saw the true meaning of my work.
I read over the story again. I hadn't titled it, but I enjoyed it. I knew that when they asked me on talk shows what it was about. I knew what I would say when fans called me an inspiration. I knew what I would say when my agent called me Adam again.
8 AM. I clicked my mouse over to the main part of the letter and erased my standard reply.
"I apologize for my tardiness. I wanted to insure it was a great read."
I hit send, got up and laid in my bed. There was no good way to conclude what I had done. I conformed, but I hated it. I couldn't die, because I still wanted to make a difference and I feared death. Drugs never were something I was good with, and neither was alcohol. I had no ending for how to deal with my problem. I could only sleep and hope that one day I would come to some conclusion.
If only that was a proper ending.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
The News (if only this was a story about news and not an update post)
Fans I have gained access to a computer and taken care of a few things that I thought I would update you all on.
If you didn't see, Death in Disguise has launched and is available for order on Amazon for 9.99 if you still like the feel of real books, or on your Kindle/Nook if you don't. Also available on Kindle is the series The Fated. I have pulled some of the stories from both books offline, but have left some of my more favorites online still. You can find links on our new page, A Simple Letter Books.
Unfortunately I have to call in about my computer, and our electricity might be out today so I won't be doing anything until- at the earliest- tomorrow afternoon or later tonight. I'm hoping they can give me something that will magically make my computer run again, but if I do have to send it in this will most definitely postpone my plans I had ready to announce. I apologize for that fans.
I am working on a few things, though. Expect a new short story here soon. Expect more news here soon. And once my computer is fixed and I'm ready for launch, expect an awesome event. Count on it.
If you didn't see, Death in Disguise has launched and is available for order on Amazon for 9.99 if you still like the feel of real books, or on your Kindle/Nook if you don't. Also available on Kindle is the series The Fated. I have pulled some of the stories from both books offline, but have left some of my more favorites online still. You can find links on our new page, A Simple Letter Books.
Unfortunately I have to call in about my computer, and our electricity might be out today so I won't be doing anything until- at the earliest- tomorrow afternoon or later tonight. I'm hoping they can give me something that will magically make my computer run again, but if I do have to send it in this will most definitely postpone my plans I had ready to announce. I apologize for that fans.
I am working on a few things, though. Expect a new short story here soon. Expect more news here soon. And once my computer is fixed and I'm ready for launch, expect an awesome event. Count on it.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Issues
I'm sorry fans for taking this long to post something. My computer crashed on wednesday and I have not been able to fix it. The book is released though, links are on our facebook page for the moment. Until I know more please be patient. I apologize for this, I had big plans that all got ruined. Stay tuned.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Official Launch Date
I am pleased to announce that the official launch date of Death in Disguise will be this Friday, April 29th. I have a lot to announce and prepare for that day, so please stay tuned to my Facebook or Twitter for more information.
And thank you to my friends, family, and fans- for nothing would be possible without you.
And thank you to my friends, family, and fans- for nothing would be possible without you.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Press Release: Death in Disguise launch
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
Gabbard Launches First Book on
Amazon
Cincinnati,
OH, April 21, 2011 – Author James Gabbard has released his first
book, Death in Disguise,
for purchase on Amazon.com and Kindle e-book readers.
This is the first time Gabbard has released a short story collection
on the website, previously launching his first collection on Lulu.
“I'm
excited to finally bring my work to a platform so many people use
every day. With Amazon and Kindle, I can bring my book to people
faster and more efficient than ever before,” Gabbard said.
Gabbard also states he has plans to launch on Barnes and Noble's
Nook, and hopes to expand his website, A Simple Letter, to include
more than what he's working on.
“Art
can be found anywhere, and I love the idea of not just creating the
art myself but displaying artwork that some people may never have
found before. Whether it be writing, painting or even just something
odd I hope people will send them in to be posted.”
Currently
there are plans to relaunch the site, moving away from the Blogger
format. Gabbard also has plans to start YouTube series and write a
full-length book based on his short story The
Connection.
“I'm
hoping that it turns out to be a more modern look at what Facebook
and Twitter might become in the future. Science continues to move
faster every day, and sometimes those things can be scary to think
about.”
A Simple Letter was founded in 2009, originally started as a blog to
showcase short stories.
####
Friday, April 8, 2011
A Stroll In Northside
I was with my friend last night when we came upon this in the window of a costume shop. We don't know if the shop was still operating or not, but we felt somewhat creeped out by it.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Abuse
I decided to dig into my old stories again to see what I could find. This story was originally written in March of 2009. It has not been altered in any way.
I used the baseball bat. It was my only way out.
It started when I was three years old. At least that’s when I remember the first time. I had done something stupid like pissing myself and he hit me on the face hard. Knocked me out cold. At least, that’s how I remember it.
He’d keep doing this. Hitting me for stupid shit. When he was pissed sometimes he’d just come and smack the shit out of me. No one would do anything. They’d all just take it is normality.
When I was 8 he pushed me down the stairs. I had to get close to twelve stitches on my head. No body did anything to him.
When I started wearing bras he would take them and smell them when I took them off. It was disgusting. Then it got worse. I’d wake up in the middle of the night and he’d be staring at me. He tried to take pictures of me while I showered.
When I was 14 he chased a boy I liked out of the house, then proceeded to rape me. He raped me for two years until I was 16. Almost every day he wanted me. It was so disgusting. I loved him, but not like this.
He left that same year. When he came back I avoided my home. I stayed with friends. I went with people to celebrate Christmas in other states. I avoided him as much as I could. It worked for two years.
Then he came back when I was a senior with a boyfriend. He chased my boyfriend out of the house when no one else was around. Then he beat me over and over again. He was pissed that he wasn’t getting sex from me.
He raped me the rest of the night. I wound up pregnant. Everyone blamed my boyfriend and my mom took me to the abortionist. No one at school found out, and neither did my boyfriend. Needless to say though, my boyfriend broke up with me.
I finally got out of the place when I went to college. He tried to come visit, but I told security about him and they wouldn’t let him in. When I came back home, he was there and wanted me to have sex with him.
I refused to. No one else was there. We struggled. He punched me in the face, numerous times. Wound up with a broken nose. Was lying on the floor as he was about to come down hard on me and rape me again.
But I couldn’t take it. After all these years of abuse. I looked under the bed to see if there was anything there. There sat an aluminum baseball bat.
I used the baseball bat. It was my only way out.
I hit him as hard as I could in his leg as he came to finish me off. He fell over and I got up as he was sitting up. He was pissed. I swung the bat without thinking and hit him square in his face. He fell over, passed out. Blood splattered onto my jeans.
I remember the radio was on because that’s all I could hear in the house anymore. I kept hearing the lyrics “Are you happy now?” over and over. I sat on the bed for hours after that. His motionless body lay in the floor. Tears rolling down my cheeks, because I knew what would happen if he got up again.
If he got up again…
I had to use the bathroom at some point. I didn’t want him to come in and rape me while I was in there. I just wanted to keep him unconscious until someone came to help. So I hit him again just a little bit. I couldn’t see his face before, but then I could. His nose was broken, and it was totally red. His eyes were open.
I knew he was dead.
I called the police. I told them what happened. They saw there was proof of my claims. They didn’t charge me with murder.
My parents said they had no idea this was happening all those years.
And now I live with having to kill my own brother. After all the years of abuse, he still abuses me…and I’m not sure which hurts worse.
I used the baseball bat. It was my only way out.
It started when I was three years old. At least that’s when I remember the first time. I had done something stupid like pissing myself and he hit me on the face hard. Knocked me out cold. At least, that’s how I remember it.
He’d keep doing this. Hitting me for stupid shit. When he was pissed sometimes he’d just come and smack the shit out of me. No one would do anything. They’d all just take it is normality.
When I was 8 he pushed me down the stairs. I had to get close to twelve stitches on my head. No body did anything to him.
When I started wearing bras he would take them and smell them when I took them off. It was disgusting. Then it got worse. I’d wake up in the middle of the night and he’d be staring at me. He tried to take pictures of me while I showered.
When I was 14 he chased a boy I liked out of the house, then proceeded to rape me. He raped me for two years until I was 16. Almost every day he wanted me. It was so disgusting. I loved him, but not like this.
He left that same year. When he came back I avoided my home. I stayed with friends. I went with people to celebrate Christmas in other states. I avoided him as much as I could. It worked for two years.
Then he came back when I was a senior with a boyfriend. He chased my boyfriend out of the house when no one else was around. Then he beat me over and over again. He was pissed that he wasn’t getting sex from me.
He raped me the rest of the night. I wound up pregnant. Everyone blamed my boyfriend and my mom took me to the abortionist. No one at school found out, and neither did my boyfriend. Needless to say though, my boyfriend broke up with me.
I finally got out of the place when I went to college. He tried to come visit, but I told security about him and they wouldn’t let him in. When I came back home, he was there and wanted me to have sex with him.
I refused to. No one else was there. We struggled. He punched me in the face, numerous times. Wound up with a broken nose. Was lying on the floor as he was about to come down hard on me and rape me again.
But I couldn’t take it. After all these years of abuse. I looked under the bed to see if there was anything there. There sat an aluminum baseball bat.
I used the baseball bat. It was my only way out.
I hit him as hard as I could in his leg as he came to finish me off. He fell over and I got up as he was sitting up. He was pissed. I swung the bat without thinking and hit him square in his face. He fell over, passed out. Blood splattered onto my jeans.
I remember the radio was on because that’s all I could hear in the house anymore. I kept hearing the lyrics “Are you happy now?” over and over. I sat on the bed for hours after that. His motionless body lay in the floor. Tears rolling down my cheeks, because I knew what would happen if he got up again.
If he got up again…
I had to use the bathroom at some point. I didn’t want him to come in and rape me while I was in there. I just wanted to keep him unconscious until someone came to help. So I hit him again just a little bit. I couldn’t see his face before, but then I could. His nose was broken, and it was totally red. His eyes were open.
I knew he was dead.
I called the police. I told them what happened. They saw there was proof of my claims. They didn’t charge me with murder.
My parents said they had no idea this was happening all those years.
And now I live with having to kill my own brother. After all the years of abuse, he still abuses me…and I’m not sure which hurts worse.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Flying
"Please don't go away...."
The air is cold up here. The wind blowing, the people below moving like ants. All I think of is her as I stand here. I am broken to the world. I am unfixable to myself. I am nothing to my friends now. I am but in shambles, lost.
And all I think of is her.
"Kevin, what are you doing up here?"
"Go back down. I just needed some air."
"You can't be up here, you need to get off the roof."
"Why? I'm just getting some air."
"You know why. Come on."
The hypnotizing glaze of his eyes brought me down again. I was nothing. I was worthless. I wanted to fly away, just jump and fly to another building- but I followed him down into the depths that I once was. I wanted to get higher, but I just got lower instead. I can't tell how low here. I can only write on the walls what day it is. It's been three months. I can tell because I mark the day. It's April. Three months.
I don't where she is. I don't what she's doing. I can't picture her, or I vomit. I don't feel like sitting in my own vomit and tears right now. I'm always crying. Here and there. My eyes fill like water.
"Meal time."
Meal time doesn't exist. Everything reminds me of her. The rice dish is like her hair, the mashed potatoes are like her face. The meatloaf she wouldn't touch. The green beans she loved to eat. Meal time wasn't fun. Nothing was fun. I just wanted to fly.
"Things can be better, I swear."
I begged. I swore up and down things would be different. She was different. She wasn't. I knew it deep down she wasn't, but I couldn't be honest with myself. I couldn't be honest with anyone. I could be honest with her. I could tell her everything and she wouldn't judge me. Not like the rest of the world. Not like the rest of the world, with their glazing, judging eyes. With their hatred filled souls. With their greedy, cold hearts.
And she was warm. And she was kind. She was everything I wanted. Her picture faded in my mind the more I stayed in this room. I slowly faded from existence. No one would remember me. No one could care. I was killing myself without ever dying.
I raised myself. I always raised myself. I always said I didn't need anyone. I could be alone. I could deal with everything by myself. But it was normal not to. It was normal to go to friends and have problems and to feel another person's touch. To feel normal. She made me feel normal. She made me feel better. I was for once normal, and I liked it. I wanted it.
"Please. I love you."
There was nothing I could do. I couldn't let go. Nothing could make me. My friends began to hate me for what I had become. I began hating me. My parents began hating me. All I felt before was love, and now it had turned to hate. All I did was sleep, eat and work. I buried myself in work.
Then I wanted love again. No more judgements. Someone to care for me for who I am, the good and the bad. But if she had somehow been with another guy...I vomited at work with the thought. Every day I would come in, work alone, and be forced to clean up my own vomit. I couldn't be nice to people, because they could see the tears falling down my face.
It was torture.
"Is there anything I can do to change things?"
And as the days went on without her, I felt self-destructive. My arm became a slashed tire that never ran out of air. My friends became punching bags that got worn out. My family became a broken phone. My job became a sinkhole of despair. The world became Hell.
Everyone was out for themselves. And I had to be locked away before I did something I couldn't control.
"Happy birthday."
"It can't be my birthday. It's May."
"It's only March."
Whoever ruled this world was torturing me. The days went by slow. All I craved was a peaceful release. I had nothing. I sat in a room all day staring at the walls. My drug was my emotion and my cure was her. I feared at times when the door opened that she would walk in and tell me she was married and loved someone else even though I knew it would never happen. Every time that thought came, though, I vomited. They hated when I vomited.
And then I lost it. I really lost it.
"You know she still loves me. She didn't want to leave me. She still wanted me around, see? But then she realized she couldn't get over me. She didn't want me to go. Something made her. I bet it was her parents. They hated me. Or her friends, I bet she was listening to her friends or something and they told her I was no good. They didn't know me- how dare they say I was no good. They probably said she could do better. I'm a great catch though, so I don't see how that could be it. They must not have known me. I'm really open to things, and I'm the nicest guy you'll ever meet. Except for the unrealistic nice guys you see on TV. I should really stand up for myself a bit more, have some confidence. Stop being such a nice guy, you know?"
I wasn't talking to anybody.
"Yeah, and I mean- if she's hanging out with someone else or marrying some other guy it's because she can't move on from me. She doesn't really love them. I'm the only one she could ever love, we're meant to be together. We're going to be together. We are together, actually- she never actually left. All of this was just a dream. Everything was a dream and it'll all go back to normal when I wake up. When I wake up it'll all be normal again. I just have to wake up."
I then spent hours running into the wall where I had my log that swore it was now November.
"It sure is warm for November."
"It's April."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive. Happy Easter."
"No wonder my Halloween candy was all egg shaped. I'm so glad you guys let me dress up. It was so cool being a dracula again. I think I'll dress up as a zombie next time. Yeah, definitely a zombie. I hate zombies though unless I am one. I guess I'm just undeadist. Is that even a word? When you're bias against the undead?"
The nurse left before I even got into my rant. I didn't let anything get me down. Not until that day.
"What's the date? You said it was April sometime ago."
"It's still April."
"Yeah but what's the day?"
"The 16th."
It was her birthday. I remembered just like I remembered her phone number (549-1862) and the day we got together (August 4th) and the day she was gone (January 23rd) and the last day I said anything to her...Feburary 14th.
"Kevin, you can't be up here. You know that."
"You ever loved someone that you just wanted to go to every day? Every night you just wanted to go to them? And fix things."
We can fix things. I know we can. I have all the solutions.
"Some things can't be fixed."
"Like me. I can't be fixed. Drugs don't do any good."
You are the only drug I'm on. I'm addicted to you. I just want you to be here.
"That's why you're here, Kevin. Come on back down. You'll be OK."
"She didn't want me. Why didn't she want me? What did I do? Why did she stop loving me?"
"I can't just let you go. I don't want to let you go, do you know how much you mean to me?"
"Kevin, you need to move on. It's time to fix things."
"I don't. I can't. I trusted her and she broke my heart. She was the only one I trusted. The only one that meant the world to me. And she's just gone."
"I just want you close. I want to be close to you always.
"Things happen. The world isn't a fair place."
"All I want to do is fly to her. Can't you just let me fly?"
"That's why you're here. You tried that. You can't kill yourself. That's not the answer."
Please come back. Please.
"But it is. It's how I'll see her again."
I looked down. The people were like ants.
Why did you have to leave me here alone? Why did you have to die?
Flying was easy. It's the landing that gets sticky.
The air is cold up here. The wind blowing, the people below moving like ants. All I think of is her as I stand here. I am broken to the world. I am unfixable to myself. I am nothing to my friends now. I am but in shambles, lost.
And all I think of is her.
"Kevin, what are you doing up here?"
"Go back down. I just needed some air."
"You can't be up here, you need to get off the roof."
"Why? I'm just getting some air."
"You know why. Come on."
The hypnotizing glaze of his eyes brought me down again. I was nothing. I was worthless. I wanted to fly away, just jump and fly to another building- but I followed him down into the depths that I once was. I wanted to get higher, but I just got lower instead. I can't tell how low here. I can only write on the walls what day it is. It's been three months. I can tell because I mark the day. It's April. Three months.
I don't where she is. I don't what she's doing. I can't picture her, or I vomit. I don't feel like sitting in my own vomit and tears right now. I'm always crying. Here and there. My eyes fill like water.
"Meal time."
Meal time doesn't exist. Everything reminds me of her. The rice dish is like her hair, the mashed potatoes are like her face. The meatloaf she wouldn't touch. The green beans she loved to eat. Meal time wasn't fun. Nothing was fun. I just wanted to fly.
"Things can be better, I swear."
I begged. I swore up and down things would be different. She was different. She wasn't. I knew it deep down she wasn't, but I couldn't be honest with myself. I couldn't be honest with anyone. I could be honest with her. I could tell her everything and she wouldn't judge me. Not like the rest of the world. Not like the rest of the world, with their glazing, judging eyes. With their hatred filled souls. With their greedy, cold hearts.
And she was warm. And she was kind. She was everything I wanted. Her picture faded in my mind the more I stayed in this room. I slowly faded from existence. No one would remember me. No one could care. I was killing myself without ever dying.
I raised myself. I always raised myself. I always said I didn't need anyone. I could be alone. I could deal with everything by myself. But it was normal not to. It was normal to go to friends and have problems and to feel another person's touch. To feel normal. She made me feel normal. She made me feel better. I was for once normal, and I liked it. I wanted it.
"Please. I love you."
There was nothing I could do. I couldn't let go. Nothing could make me. My friends began to hate me for what I had become. I began hating me. My parents began hating me. All I felt before was love, and now it had turned to hate. All I did was sleep, eat and work. I buried myself in work.
Then I wanted love again. No more judgements. Someone to care for me for who I am, the good and the bad. But if she had somehow been with another guy...I vomited at work with the thought. Every day I would come in, work alone, and be forced to clean up my own vomit. I couldn't be nice to people, because they could see the tears falling down my face.
It was torture.
"Is there anything I can do to change things?"
And as the days went on without her, I felt self-destructive. My arm became a slashed tire that never ran out of air. My friends became punching bags that got worn out. My family became a broken phone. My job became a sinkhole of despair. The world became Hell.
Everyone was out for themselves. And I had to be locked away before I did something I couldn't control.
"Happy birthday."
"It can't be my birthday. It's May."
"It's only March."
Whoever ruled this world was torturing me. The days went by slow. All I craved was a peaceful release. I had nothing. I sat in a room all day staring at the walls. My drug was my emotion and my cure was her. I feared at times when the door opened that she would walk in and tell me she was married and loved someone else even though I knew it would never happen. Every time that thought came, though, I vomited. They hated when I vomited.
And then I lost it. I really lost it.
"You know she still loves me. She didn't want to leave me. She still wanted me around, see? But then she realized she couldn't get over me. She didn't want me to go. Something made her. I bet it was her parents. They hated me. Or her friends, I bet she was listening to her friends or something and they told her I was no good. They didn't know me- how dare they say I was no good. They probably said she could do better. I'm a great catch though, so I don't see how that could be it. They must not have known me. I'm really open to things, and I'm the nicest guy you'll ever meet. Except for the unrealistic nice guys you see on TV. I should really stand up for myself a bit more, have some confidence. Stop being such a nice guy, you know?"
I wasn't talking to anybody.
"Yeah, and I mean- if she's hanging out with someone else or marrying some other guy it's because she can't move on from me. She doesn't really love them. I'm the only one she could ever love, we're meant to be together. We're going to be together. We are together, actually- she never actually left. All of this was just a dream. Everything was a dream and it'll all go back to normal when I wake up. When I wake up it'll all be normal again. I just have to wake up."
I then spent hours running into the wall where I had my log that swore it was now November.
"It sure is warm for November."
"It's April."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive. Happy Easter."
"No wonder my Halloween candy was all egg shaped. I'm so glad you guys let me dress up. It was so cool being a dracula again. I think I'll dress up as a zombie next time. Yeah, definitely a zombie. I hate zombies though unless I am one. I guess I'm just undeadist. Is that even a word? When you're bias against the undead?"
The nurse left before I even got into my rant. I didn't let anything get me down. Not until that day.
"What's the date? You said it was April sometime ago."
"It's still April."
"Yeah but what's the day?"
"The 16th."
It was her birthday. I remembered just like I remembered her phone number (549-1862) and the day we got together (August 4th) and the day she was gone (January 23rd) and the last day I said anything to her...Feburary 14th.
"Kevin, you can't be up here. You know that."
"You ever loved someone that you just wanted to go to every day? Every night you just wanted to go to them? And fix things."
We can fix things. I know we can. I have all the solutions.
"Some things can't be fixed."
"Like me. I can't be fixed. Drugs don't do any good."
You are the only drug I'm on. I'm addicted to you. I just want you to be here.
"That's why you're here, Kevin. Come on back down. You'll be OK."
"She didn't want me. Why didn't she want me? What did I do? Why did she stop loving me?"
"I can't just let you go. I don't want to let you go, do you know how much you mean to me?"
"Kevin, you need to move on. It's time to fix things."
"I don't. I can't. I trusted her and she broke my heart. She was the only one I trusted. The only one that meant the world to me. And she's just gone."
"I just want you close. I want to be close to you always.
"Things happen. The world isn't a fair place."
"All I want to do is fly to her. Can't you just let me fly?"
"That's why you're here. You tried that. You can't kill yourself. That's not the answer."
Please come back. Please.
"But it is. It's how I'll see her again."
I looked down. The people were like ants.
Why did you have to leave me here alone? Why did you have to die?
Flying was easy. It's the landing that gets sticky.
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