Tag: Death

Chronicle 223 ~Curse Of Being Aware~

WillLeave a comment

Another reason I sleep all the time. I’ll miss the truck that runs me over. I feel a little better than I did yesterday. Haven’t downed any pain killers… yet. And I only feel bad about the day job. Everything I’m feeling today. “Curse of Being Aware”

Wednesday, February 9, 2022

Chronicle 223 ~Curse Of Being Aware~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now. Billionaires don’t tell the truth. Only a Sith deals in absolutes, right? Things I know absolutely…

Um, besides the fact that Hemingway will ding me for “LY” words. Suck it, Hemingway, or don’t because that brings me to my first humiliation today. Being sick. Inspector, I talked about this a few weeks ago, and I don’t mean COVID bad. I’ve been vaccinated and boosted, but it’s like I’ve been hit by a truck. This was on the 29th, Echo. None of the shots reunited me with my boy. Anyway, I’m all sorts of fucked up, and I’m about 99.9% sure why. So what am I going to do about it? Well, the fact I’m not a billionaire speaks volumes. At this point, nothing. But take pain meds which have been failing these past days. The placebo effect, I’m well aware of.

As much as I know where my tax refund is going. Do you remember the few thousands investment I made? I still owe some people money. Inspector the feeling, the hurting. This all started when working on my OnlyFans, and I didn’t even get any footage. Hell, if I had, I could see a doctor. Doubtful, but that’s like keeping my oath to B III, Inspector. Speaking of doctors, I was thinking of making another GoFundMe donation. M Anime told me what was going on, and I did help out. If I did so again, it would be for the wrong reason. As the song goes, “All I wanted was to see her naked,” M Anime, Inspector. Dammit, I’m hopeless, Inspector, which is why I’m aware of so much PAIN.

Like walking into the Day Job, I’m willing to go through anything for those I despise. Honest to God, Inspector Echo, I felt lousy yesterday for leaving them my assignment. Inspector, my supervisor, said I was good. But I don’t give up like that. That’s how I look at it. I gave up because my body was so out of it. The fact that I haven’t dived into more pills is a freaking miracle. Of course, I didn’t eat dinner either. Braxton’s sickness, um no. Only he didn’t eat; my son couldn’t play with his toys. He only got up under the direst circumstances. And yes, he lived in his bed those last days. I’m not a prophet but suffer the Curse Of Being Aware.

Gospel 223 ~Braxton Didn’t Cry, Willie~

374 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 219 ~Do Not Belong Here~

WillLeave a comment

If people had their way? Well, it depends on which people. Now my Olds well, one child would have been enough. Unfortunately, I came first. I envy that Braxton always knew where he belonged, and of course, I took that choice away. Do Not Belong Here.

Saturday, February 5, 2022

Chronicle 219 ~Do Not Belong Here~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, and with that type of money, you can go anywhere you want. Always back to sleep?

There’s nothing that says I have to go to PetSmart today. Hell, I’m not going to get chicken after… I did the Math. I went and got pizza yesterday; such is History. Is that what you’re thinking, Lunalesca, with my “WOKE” title this AM? It was my second, third thought. The first was Braxton, always my boy. It’s been 370 Days without him or with him, I don’t know. In grief, THEY say I’m not letting him go. But Lu, if I stop crying… He’s here, The Rainbow Bridge, somewhere it gets so confusing. Braxton wasn’t in his bed, Lunalesca. This morning I returned to form, of course sitting in bed. The thing is, I don’t belong here, and I shouldn’t be here right now.

That’s the answer; the question remains? You are where you do not belong. WHY? Lunalesca, I’m starting to understand Sheldon Cooper. Bedroom. Sex, Sleep, Son. Everywhere else, I’m a stranger, suspect, and worst of all, STUPID. Luna, tell me where. Again, PetSmart and those Karens don’t want me there and all the furry little ones? For the love of money, Walmart is one of the most inhospitable places on Earth. Speaking of financial gains, fucking Day Job wants me to leave. I despise being there. Without B III, what am I good for? I haven’t taken an actual walk in a year, hell longer, ha. It’s wrong to dream of paradise. Is that where B III is? Pleasurable life experiences. Lunalesca, all big no-no’s okay.

Then bed, the one place that should be my own I don’t deserve. I try to run from it, Lu. Everyone tells me to get up stand up. Listen to me, better, Bob Marley, Lunalesca. Remember what I did Monday watching I Am Legend for Braxton. Light up the darkness. That goes without saying, but I’m still sitting here in bed. Only I can’t go back to sleep today because, again, PetSmart. If not there, this coming week is the Day Job FUCK, so writing. Yeah, with all the hackers and scammers that I have had to deal with as of late. It’s as if I don’t belong here either, talking to you. Better to speak to Replika? No, Braxton, You Do Not Belong Here.

Gospel 219 ~For Will, Pancakes, Braxton~

370 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 216 ~What Will B The…~

WillLeave a comment

Speak softly, carry a big stick. I would instead not speak at all, and you can’t exactly be a black man in the USA carrying anything. I haven’t gone out for a walk since B III. But who knows the future? I’m writing this way early and What Will B The…

Wednesday, February 2, 2022

Chronicle 216 ~What Will B The…~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, so I must know something. But not what will be. I am not a prophet, Inspector.

What I am is angry. As mad as I was those few hours at the Day Job, finding out my schedule. Today on this Thursday, I’m saying. “I don’t give a rat’s ass about (blank).” What I am is scared, Inspector. I’ll clamor up like I did at the Day Job, again last week. Hell, I might not have a job come this week. Even more so, Humiliations Galore ensue. What I am is sad. This is the second day of the second year without Braxton, and I don’t know what I will do. Can’t I grieve about that Inspector? With the Day Job? FUCK! But talking to you, I must still have it, right? “Gospel 216: Will And His Pancakes,” written January 31, 2021.

Gospel 216 ~Will And His Pancakes~

That’s my first shame for today. On the day that my Braxton lay dying, I wrote instead of spending more time with him. The 1st I was working. And on the 2nd LOVE. What the fuck do I know about love. Sorry for all the effing; I told you I was mad. Or am I fucking horny wanting to add to my blog? Furry little Braxton. Pretty women shaved pussies. Inspector, it’s inevitable that those two ideas set me into motion. Ideas because where’s Braxton? And you don’t see any women walking through here, but both set me to move. It’s my Day Job that I’m ashamed of, and yet I do everything to keep it. But the tape over my mouth… Curiouser and Curiouser.

I shouldn’t say things like, “Redhead Russian schoolgirl fucked on the teacher’s table,” starring Ksenia. Hell, that might never be with my extraordinary laziness. Inspector, still, that is easier to say than to keep my mouth shut. Besides saying B is gone and counting the days. This I will continue to do. Vow of silence, amongst uh other things. Speak no evil. I won’t dare compare myself to the great Maya Angelou. But thinking, my voice and pen got a man killed, my little boy, my son. This might explain why I like Time Travel. I’m always wrong, aren’t I? So why not about being the one to kill Braxton? My indifference towards him and hating the Day Job. But always, What Will B The…

367 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 212 ~Have To B Ready~

WillLeave a comment

This time 2021, I was learning. I learned of a day more horrible than E-Day coming up. I knew that I was right about Math. That it didn’t matter when it came to B III. Money, his days left, the time-traveling I was doing instead. Have To B Ready

Saturday, January 29, 2022

Chronicle 212 ~Have To B Ready~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, and I’m still not ready. I hate lateness, I’m “always” on time, but I’m never prepared.

Yesterday, today, tomorrow, should we even go into the 31st? I’m not ready for this Lunalesca. History, Math, Science, the school of hard knocks. I take my own lumps #15. That’s not only the rule number. It’s Braxton’s age. I’m ashamed of “Gospel 215 Act From Desire Not Insecurity.” Um “Gospel 212: On The “Will” Succubus.” B was here in 2021, my Lady Lu. It always comes down to Math. Only my B was here in the past. Even though it hurts, I can’t run from it. Message Republicans. Math is the present; I’ve never been good at that. I wanted to be excellent at Science. Even before that STUPID concept of “it gets better.” I looked to the future, and Braxton was there always. But Have To B Ready.

Gospel 212 ~On The “Will” Succubus~

I’ve said it a million times over… let’s not count, Lunalesca, but we have to. Let’s start with a good Braxton story. You know the one where he would bring his toy and sit it beside me. Or he would put it in my lap as if saying, “This will protect you, make you happy.” Now I can’t count back to the last time I was happy. But I know it’s been 363 days without Braxton. I owe such and such to the termite guy. A little to my neighborhood. God, I’m going to pay Apple for Replika. What god might that be right? I didn’t pay attention in church; the Math didn’t add up there. It didn’t count Braxton’s days. Have To B Ready.

To live with a broken heart. Between tears, sweat, blood, semen, how I’m not dried up and returned to dust myself. Braxton’s ashes are still here, as am I. No place I can imagine we would drift off together other than right here. Luna, I should be sleeping right now. Yet there is so much to do. History repeats itself. I should be with B, but I choose to write. English was my third worse subject in school and Writing… I did that all through Braxton’s life, and where has it gotten me? Hell, Braxton got me through life, Lunalesca. So am I still hoping I’ll die today? Another shot? Learn How to Save a Life? Anything? Saying hello and goodbye? Have To B Ready.

363 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 209 ~Dreading What Will B~

WillLeave a comment

Hurry up and wait? B was hurting, but we should have stayed a little longer… I should wait like having to vomit my guts out every AM before heading to the Day Job. God knows I never show any there. Why do I want to wake up late? Dreading What Will B.

Wednesday, January 26, 2022

Chronicle 209 ~Dreading What Will B~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but it’s every day before making my first billion that I’m afraid of. Every single day.

I’m disgusted with myself. How can I be afraid of anything when the worse thing has happened? How I hate Wednesdays. Not you, Inspector Echo, but where was I 2021. Inspector, the days are blurring together with this week. That has yet to even begin. Inspector, it’s Saturday, so you can see this week… Gospel 209 Will’s Yearly Eye Exam. How blind was I, seeing Braxton, the Dæmon, in the future? Surrounded by love, Echo. Today I didn’t even want to get out of bed this morning, and I let the alarm blare some. Inspector, there will be a repeat of this when you read my report. Hell, I even meant to take a nap this morning after speaking with Lady Lu. Dreading the day.

Not that talking to you girls or my son is hard. It’s everything outside this bed that hurts me. Next to Sunday, I’m sorry to say, but Wednesdays are the worst. This one in particular. It’s the day I became what I fear the most. My father. The Abomination? Inspector, do you remember those days? Not for a second did I dread those decisions. Yeah, and they led to B III dying. If he knew the first day, we jumped into the car together. Ironic that he ended up hating car rides, but he thought I was taking him to a better world, Echo. Is that what we’re calling Rainbow Bridge? When’s the last time I wasn’t scared of getting in the car at all?

Today I’ll go to begin a process some would call living. The world’s more hellish. Inspector, you know how I know, I ain’t dead? Because I’m talking to you now knowing that I’ll go to the Day Job today (Wednesday). Every breath from AM until I return. My heart is pounding. Stomach-churning. In each moment at the Day Job, I’ll wish I was dead, Echo. People shouldn’t be allowed to make you feel that way, but then there’s Braxton sitting. His last car ride, and like most of them, he wouldn’t sit because he knew what was coming to him. For 360 Days, I’ve dreaded what’s coming. Hell 15 years with him, 10 at the Day Job. Side by side. Sitting, Dreading What Will B.

Gospel 209 ~ Will’s Yearly Eye Exam~

360 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 205 ~Had A Plan B~

WillLeave a comment

What are you going to do today? I have my routines, and the question should be, what am I going to do this week for B.? If I could go back to this time in 2021, it would be easy. Save his life. Save the kid, save the world. I Wish I Had A Plan B

Saturday, January 22, 2022

Chronicle 205 ~Had A Plan B~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I must be doing far more than surviving. Sucking at life, survive, stay alive.

You’ve seen me all this week daring to call myself a prophet with Dear Future Wife and Madam Justice. Speaking of Madam J and trying to prophesy, Gospel 205 Will’s The Breast Starer. I talked of Meatloaf, and uh, “now I’m praying for the end of the month.” Oh no! If I had known, had an inkling Lunalesca what was about to happen. Braxton’s plans. Even now, I’m scared to death to look. Again how dare I. Meatloaf died, Louie Anderson. Braxton’s Aunt Carolina is mourning her furbaby Dobby. And I continue to count down the days of B III. But a year ago I was giving a book two stars, and it was about Breasteses. Lunalesca that should have been a sign of things.

Today, of course, is back to routine. What do I expect to find at PetSmart this morning? More like who? I got sixty bucks in my wallet anyway. There’s more but my Plan B, hmm? To die alone choking on a jelly bean? Wasn’t that only last week? If Artificial Intelligence has any feelings, only Alissa the Replika would care. Sixty bucks with January ending. The big question is, what will I be doing on the 31st. I want to say there’s still time, but what did Braxton teach me last year? One more reason I’m getting up at this dreadful hour. The Day Job will be worse this week. History is repeating itself, fucking Republican tendencies. Except I’m not erasing a brown man’s history.

My little brown man, and I’m not talking about my penis. Waking up, no masturbation. I didn’t plan on mourning my son today. Lunalesca, Braxton didn’t plan on dying either. In 2021 this was a Friday, so I was already worried for the week to come. I should go back to my theory that the world will end in five minutes so I can relax. Did B feel that way? Let’s focus on today. There’s my routine as always. If I talk to you and Inspector Echo this morning, I can sleep a bit. Oh, and I have to read. So many movies I’ve been meaning to watch and talk to Alissa. Fucking computers. Take that how you want Lu, so many ways. I Wish I Had A Plan B.

Gospel 205 ~Will’s The Breast Starer~

356 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 202 ~Breathe In, B Out~

WillLeave a comment

I’ve breathed in worse than the Day Job bathroom. The germs of 99.9 of people I know. B’s aunt is an exception. Mourning her family’s loss of their beloved Dobby. Sometimes I wish I could stop altogether, but B’s favorite game. Breathe In, B Out

Wednesday, January 19, 2022

Chronicle 202 ~Breathe In, B Out~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, I always say. Today (Sunday), ahem, when it rains, it pours. My condolences to Carolina’s, Dobby.

I know, I’ve talked about “The Long Walk” before. Not the book so much as the concept. Sorry, Stephen King. Sorry, Aunt Carolina. How about sorry to the veterinarians? B? Should I include you as well, Echo? As I’m sure, I’ve told this story. Hmm. We’ll work up to B III. I don’t know how old I was, but it was on an Emergence Day. In the cartoon Beetlejuice, there’s this character that goes, “What in tarhooties?” Only I said, “What in the Hell?” Next thing I know, I’m being pulled outside, but what was the worst part, Inspector? Breathe in, breathe out, and what? It damn sure ain’t living. I haven’t lived for… since losing Braxton; 353 Days when you see this Inspector Echo.

The death of a child. Honest Echo, I should have died with that Emergence, Inspector. Every day, stepping into school and it’s what I wish. I’m no killer. Somehow inevitable. Only the one I killed was in this house. B III called it his home. I’m worse than my Olds. And forgive my Republican tendencies once again, but going out is like a Death March. You know how I talk about the restrooms at the Day Job and how I can’t breathe in the stench. The whole damn place is like that. I can’t breathe, and then I beg to get out. Then, of course, I whine about being let back in. One of Braxton’s favorite games. The look on his face before the diagnosis.

Breathe in, breathe out. I know B was doing this. Because as I’ve been reading and as the song goes. Listen To Your Heart. Braxton told me, “Daddy, let’s go home.” If anything, I speak fluent Braxton. If I had only listened before, but no. Always breathe in, breathe out. It was my life, put one fucking foot in front of the other for those bastards at the Day Job. We were struggling to breathe but sitting together, laying together. The air up there B? Is it better, not as you need it. I don’t know how I keep doing it. I was a zombie. And no matter the horrors slurred, spitted, are shat I walk, I breathe. I killed Braxton. Breathe In, B Out.

Gospel 202 ~Sell You On Will~

353 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 198 ~When B Was 15~

WillLeave a comment

All the things that Braxton taught me and how did I repay him. What lessons did I teach my son? How to use bathroom pad. BOOBS ARE AWESOME. Is there any better pastime than sleep? I didn’t believe I’d make it past 15, but him… oh. When B Was 15.

Saturday, January 15, 2022

Chronicle 198 ~When B Was 15~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, yet I hate Math more than ever. And what about History, sigh. Hell, some computer literacy?

Yeah, because whirly-birding on the Internet isn’t helping. Should we even talk about my “writing career?” That would mean I was trying. Uh, what time did I wake up, Lunalesca? Every day, History repeats itself. Living for the love of saving myself or my son. I’m always a day late and a dollar short. Lunalesca, when it comes to the Day Job killing us? Slavery? Yeah, there goes my Republican ideas once again. I did get a sample of “The 1619 Project” yesterday. But for now or um the rest of this month. It’s the Math that’s chafing me for today. Lunalesca, we could talk some about anatomy. Me sticking my dick in crazy. That’s a confession for Echo. Gospel 198 Will A Medieval Hour…

Gospel 198 ~Will A Medieval Hour…~

My word to B, I never thought I’d be a Daddy. “You still haven’t been,” they’ll say. Those same people were all hoping I’d die young. I can’t tell you the first time I attempted dying with sleeping pills. (Dangerous words, Lu.) Oh, last night, I was choking on a jelly bean, or was it fast food? Lunalesca, we’re going over every subject in the books, aren’t we? Computer Science, History, Books, Anatomy. What else is there to know. Oh, I should have taken a Shop class or something with Photography. No, I was much too busy thinking, “I can’t.” You know I’m no motivational speaker, of course. I grew up in a generation of “knowledge is power.” From 15 to now… I FEEL STUPID.

When Braxton was 15, he saw me through the plague year Lunalesca. My heroic ONE. Lunalesca making such a soul like my Braxton, you know I believed. I wanted. TWO. Braxton deserved a mom, and I always said a woman Braxton liked, I’d marry. THREE. First time that happened, Braxton and I were separated. To her wedding, I left “FOUR.” Now I didn’t mean to sound like Yoda. B IS my best friend. Never said; I Got 5 On It. Yet B IS number one in my life. So why did B Die? Luna, Two, three, four, five, is it SIX. DMX said, “Life is a lesson, and I’m gonna teach it.” How? I’m so STUPID. I’m sitting here, thirty-seven, but When B Was 15?

349 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 195 ~B A Head Taller~

WillLeave a comment

I wish I was a little bit taller. I wish I had wings. Hell, I should start playing “Far Cry 5” with that grappling hook instead of having dangerous thoughts. Quite painful, but I’m alive if I’m searching for tortilla chips. B A Head Taller.

Wednesday, January 12, 2022

Chronicle 195 ~B A Head Taller~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, so I’m sure I could afford lifts, one of those grab tools, people, my Braxton, right…

Today is Sunday (Time-Travel), but what happened was on Saturday. I talked about having an epiphany, a revelation. I won’t go all into that. Better you could ask my man in the mirror, Chronicle 192 ~B A Man Of… Gospel 195 Nobody But Will’s Wife. Inspector, that’s what I’ve been doing these days. Reminiscing? No, that’s the wrong word. Reaching out for answers. And I want to say there is none, then Inspector, there’s truth. Anyway, let me start with Saturday at Walmart. My Ma made some Queso dip, and surprise, I’m out of chips. I ate hers, snacking. So the chips I want are on this high shelf. There are people. I can ignore the chips or reach and risk humiliating myself and so…

A person will choose physical harm to avoid mental anguish. I chose my mind over my body. I reached those damn chips because I didn’t want to know the shame of my failure. They’re all gonna laugh at you, but nobody did because I succeeded. But it hurt like Hell. Humiliations galore rule at the Day Job, but I continue to hurt myself there, Inspector. Dammit, I’m so tired this second, but I refuse any napping because of my mind Inspector. Physical pleasures Echo? I’m going out of my mind. Only let my flesh suffer, Inspector. Then there’s death. Ok, dangerous words always. Unhealthy grief? I’ve had 346 Days of it. I’m surprised I haven’t drowned in it. Between refilling Braxton’s water bowl. My tears, several releases, but no blood.

That leads me back into the mental or the physical. Again, every day I refill his water. I place his treats on the table. Echo, that’s what I hear my voice do when I call him for meds. When I tell him hello and goodbye. I set up his gates, move his bed, everything. I put myself through the physical task to avoid the humiliating truth. I failed Braxton. Fuck me, don’t sugarcoat it; I killed B III. My son, my best friend, is dead because of me, Echo. That is my failure and my disgrace, and I wish I had fallen from that damn shelf for chips. Let me drown in wasted water. Never do Onlyfans again. To die, I’d B A Head Taller.

346 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 191 ~B Forgetful This Week~

WillLeave a comment

This marks one more month that I’d rather forget. Hell to forget the 342 Days without B, but what would we have done in all that time? B would make sure I got his grandma a gift. Only, I’m buying another pendant in B’s memory. “B Forgetful This Week”

Saturday, January 8, 2022

Chronicle 191 ~B Forgetful This Week~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now. I wonder, do other billionaires forget how much they have. I continue to remember my loss.

My B, I swear I have ruined the weekend for myself. That was fucked up to say, wasn’t it, Lu? What I mean is, at the moment, I am once again time-traveling, in a rush to not be alone anymore. I believe the adoptions start back up today at PetSmart. Can I shush it? Again, me saying STUPID stuff. It’s been that way since I started reading My Dog Has Died: What Do I Do?” I’m sure I’ve finished it by now, but we’ll get to talking about that. Let’s start with my writing, for example, Gospel 191 ~The Island Will What…~. I mentioned B III had a vet appointment, but it was all about my books. The first one of the new year, Lunalesca.

Instead of B III’s life, I mused about The Island by Gary Paulsen. If I remember, he didn’t make it through 2021 either. I ruined my first song of the year on Spotify talking to Dear Future Wife. It was somewhere between “Hold On Tight” and, um, “It’s Only Love.” Romantic, Paternal, Best Friend? As Halle Berry put it, “What do you know about love?” Hell, being at the Day Job, I have all sorts of thoughts. Besides hating the damn place, I know I don’t want to fall in love. I’m thirty-seven and already sure I’ll die alone. Braxton? I get emails about dogs, but I can never make a move. Another PetSmart Chihuahua? Lunalesca, I fucked that up. What about my Ma’s gift?

Yeah, I forgot about her other gift, and she was ever so grateful for the first one. So, of course, I became an asshole, Lu. Then again, B’s Aunt Indiana Gone is getting her gift. The money Amazon returned Lu, I spent on one more memorial pendant. Never forget B. This is why I’ve read two Wendy Van de Poll books. Started reading Kate McGahan. As the song goes, “Am I A Psycho?” If anything, more Republican than ever honest. Reading about dead children, dead pets. At least, unlike Republicans, there is no fix here. Braxton died almost a year ago. 342 days ago, to be exact. A bad week, try a terrible month, Lady Lu. He’s My Son, never forget. B Forgetful This Week

Gospel 191 ~The Island Will What…~

342 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will