Braxton had his moments when he figured I needed to shut up. No wonder I wasted an hour and a half writing; when I already had this cued up. Hell! Today was pretty quiet on the humiliation front. But I’ll never forget… B’s Dead Quiet Virgil
Wednesday, January 11, 2023
Saga 194 ~ B’s Dead Quiet Virgil~
Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, so yes, that was a low fucking blow, and I’m in no fucking mood. Humiliations Galore…
Humiliation, Fear, and Rage, Inspector Echo. When all I want to do is sleep. Better, I want to be with Braxton. Today is Wednesday, January 4, 2023, Inspector. I couldn’t wait. It’s all too much. Oh, like the Zoe Colletti/Tifa Lockhart Incident of 2022? Humiliation! Inspector, all I can tell you today is this. I woke up on time this morning, and after I posted, I went back to sleep. Afraid to open my eyes. No, worse. Every time I shut my eyes, I hoped I would die. I didn’t want to get up. And it was as if something someone knew about today. While reading on January 3rd (last night), I swear I heard breathing in my ear. I wanted it to be Braxton.
Hell! Virgil was on the floor. Could he tell that Braxton and I were having a moment? B III, didn’t want me falling asleep? I’m not this evening. As Yoda said, fear leads to anger. I swear, while I stood there at the Day Job, bathed in MY humiliation, I had one clear thought, Inspector. Call it a life goal, like me trying to keep my dick in my pants. Anyway, I said to myself, “I never want to talk to another human being for the rest of this existence. Misanthrope? Indeed, I am. At this rate, I should have become a monk or something. Inspector, if I’m not going to die. Then I need to find some way to get away from people. Fuck!
But seeing I can’t have the quiet which is death. Do I want to go back to the day Braxton died? Comparison… nothing beats that pain. So I can endure the Day Job noise, Inspector. Forget whoever the fuck I am and become whatever it is; these assholes want Inspector. It’s not like I even know, but I want to try and look. Or at least I did. And becoming what I was once before. As I keep talking about MY son, I will keep repeating Virgil is not B. So those are my options, Inspector. Fear to exist and lay down and die. Rage consumes me, and fuck humanity. Or face humiliation always. Be like Virgil sitting, waiting. B’s dead. B’s Dead Quiet Virgil
710 Days Without B III, Day 151 of Virgil’s Arrival
BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will