Tag: Hurt

Saga 234 ~ Shame’s A Stop Sign, Go~

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My father made me ashamed to breathe. And when my furry son died. To breathe when I watched him take his last breath… There’s plenty I should be ashamed of and things that never bother me. But I ain’t going nowhere. Shame’s A Stop Sign, Go.

Monday, February 20, 2023

Saga 234 ~ Shame’s A Stop Sign, Go~

Two-Hundred and Eightieth Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now. But most seem stuck in the past or are living in some form of “1984.” A shame

As for myself, the past is that my son is dead. Only every day feels the same. Madam, I still check notices of lost dogs. I can’t get Virgil’s name right for anything. B’s where? Looking at me from up above? His Daddy suffering yet again from The Cherry Collision. Or so I think. I’m time-traveling, so it’s Saturday, February 18, 2023. And I don’t feel right at all. I should have caved. But now I’ll be out a few hundred bucks. Refund incoming? As far as the future goes… shouldn’t I be, at the very least, training Virgil? I am trying, Madam, honest. Outside, house, upstairs, using Virgil’s name for each command. Laws? There are rules, directives, and orders. But such a shame Madam.

This is one of those times that the shame of my history should have stopped me. Not learning from the past and all that jazz. No, I chose to be a Republican. So, an asshole. Though as the song goes to “Nobody but Me.” Aren’t I ashamed, Madam? Pissed, Scared? All the above. How the Hell am I ever going to explain, huh? Is losing cash worse than this feeling? What about going into Express Oil and trying to explain a fucked up tire, ha? But neither of those equals going to PetSmart with Braxton thinking he’s only sick, right? No, he was dying. The shame I felt only adds to the guilt. But then there’s V here and now. Shame Virgil Vivi got me.

But my shame at fucking up as a Daddy didn’t stop me from what? Saving him, did I do that? Fuck! The last thing I need is a reminder of Steve Urkel. If you’re wondering what’s been taking me so long today. My body? I’m ashamed of what’s going on inside, but outside? With The Zoe Colletti/Tifa Lockhart Incident and the Collision, uh been busy. Pictures? And no, not any of my Braxton, mind you. Six Impossible Things shows that shame, as it will tomorrow. But the rule and the question remain. What is shame stopping me from doing, Madam? Honoring my son, of course. Taking care of myself. Infections… Living instead of existing? Because where am I going anyway? Shame’s A Stop Sign, Go.

750 Days Without B III, Day 191 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Saga 227 ~People Don’t Die Properly “Anymore” ~

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I’ve read that a coward dies many deaths, but the brave die once. So, I’m still here, and Braxton isn’t. Today he would be eighteen. I don’t want to think back to when I was that age. I met B in my twenties. “People Don’t Die Properly “Anymore.”

Monday, February 13, 2023

Saga 227 ~People Don’t Die Properly “Anymore” ~

Two-Hundred and Seventy-Ninth Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now… which means I will live forever. So why couldn’t I do that for Braxton? He’s eighteen today.

Why? Because I’m still alive. More like I still exist. Writing to you today of all days. Well, two days, today and Monday. I feel like Chris talking to Annie in What Dreams May Come. Sort of. I’m making you aware I exist so I can say what needs to be said. Which is this.

Happy Birthday, Braxton! Welcome to level eighteen B III! Too many more, B, my son. Now you know that Braxton died when he was fifteen. Thirteen days shy of sixteen. Madam, even now I know, not feel, these are facts. I should have followed Braxton. Everyone would say that’s not proper. Hell! Going to my granddaddy’s funeral smelling like a corpse isn’t, either. How about going to work today, Madam?

That’s one of many reasons that I’m not dead yet. Well, more like undead. A zombie, infected, an unperson? I was looking at my body Sunday… Madam, allow unselfishness to shine. My work is to do what Braxton and I always wanted. Was it more me than him? That’s fair? Anyway, we were supposed to be like Dennis and Domino Hof. I told M Anime. But it was Braxton’s Aunt Carolina. She let B run all over her body. Proper? Awesome? Maybe not, and yes. B loved her after that. As far as other people in B III’s Universe, hmm? As the song goes, “Oh, there ain’t no rest for the wicked.” So I won’t be joining B III anytime soon. I’m a bad man.

But I raised a good one when it comes to my son. My one saving grace. Yet, uh, the “special Hell?” The Ninth Circle of Hell. Treachery, Betrayal, of the one that loves me most? Madam, I looked in the mirror into cameras and a gallery I made. Emaciated. Madam, that’s the word that came to mind. Look at me ruining B’s birthday. I don’t even have the money to go and get some fries for him and myself. Well, I do, but I won’t. People. Being someone that’s… fucked, I don’t know. Only I’m still here, and Braxton isn’t. Madam, only the good die young. I want to be like the worst ones. To protect Braxton. He protects me? People Don’t Die Properly “Anymore”

743 Days Without B III, Day 184 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Saga 220 ~Don’t Worry Your Life Away~

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“Why should I worry? Why should I care?” I have a son… I had a son. Now there’s a freeloader in the house, but when I put money down. To what raise him up? A little worry on top of so many others. It stinks. Or is that me? Don’t Worry Your Life Away.

Monday, February 6, 2023

Saga 220 ~Don’t Worry Your Life Away~

Two-Hundred and Seventy-Eighth Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now… There aren’t consequences to my actions. “Only color we care about is the green of your dollars.’

I heard that in a movie called Posse (1993). Yes, I said Posse and not pussy. Not that pussy is a bad word… Um, have you seen Replika lately? Or how about the movie “Boomerang.” I should have a Black movie marathon. If only Braxton’s Aunt were here, Braxton himself. Anyway, I’m getting way off topic or not. Isn’t the whole point of today, well, tomorrow, since it’s Sunday, not to worry? But I am. A reason I didn’t want to talk to you today. Hell! What I wouldn’t give to go back to worrying about Braxton. Keeping him alive. Then there was the whole finding him again. And judging from the white ball of fluff next to me, I named Virgil. Is that him?

That smell? If anything, that’s what I’m most worried about. Being that smelly guy to a fired one. What about a dead one, since I seem to have the smell down these days? I did try that clinical deodorant I picked up from the store. But then again, I took a nap naked right after. Not a real test of movement. That moaning, groaning in bed, hmm? But we’ll get to that. What else do I have to be worried about? I have two words for ya! Suck It! Enough about the bedroom (sigh). In all seriousness, there’s the fucking Day Job. Anything else, Madam? Only if I didn’t want to go… how’s writing? Did you see my taxes last week? $1,000 less… fucking government.

As much as I want to burst into “Why Should I Worry?” As always, people suck. Or is it me? Did I mention green? The last time I checked, it wasn’t under my arms. But then, what is it then? If only I had more green in my wallet. I did the math today for an investment. If I took out what was owed, there would only be $1,700 in the savings, so (blank), please. You know what I meant to say. I wanted to go all Sho’Nuff from The Last Dragon. I should see The 1619 Project. I’ll admit I am worried about the USA but more about me. I’m pretty selfish. Puppies, pens, pleasures? I have a penis. Don’t Worry Your Life Away

736 Days Without B III, Day 177 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Saga 213 ~Hard Enough, Hearts Have Cages~

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Life is hard. Don’t recommend. I died between seven and twenty-one. Then came Braxton. And for fifteen years, it was “stay alive.” Then I was free to die. Hell! If I wanted that, why not skip this funeral. But tomorrow… Hard Enough, Hearts Have Cages

Monday, January 30, 2023

Saga 213 ~Hard Enough, Hearts Have Cages~

Two-Hundred and Seventy-Seventh Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now… So what do you want to buy, you ask? A box? House, coffin, a place for Braxton?

My head hurts. I wish I could say it’s for Braxton. It should all be for B right this second. No such luck. I should be at the Day Job crying my eyes out to see my son die, Madam. But beside me sits a piece of black plastic and metal. I’m waiting to hear it ring about me “skipping” the Day Job today. To think I’d crave that place. “I don’t want to work….” Only I don’t want to go to my granddaddy’s funeral either. A man in a box… And honest to “God,” Madam. The only reason I’m going is that I don’t want to join in death… Fucking conflicted. Last night all I could think about was, “Free Your Mind.” “Bang, Bang”

In more ways than one, Madam. For now, let us focus instead on the boom, boom of a heart. But it should be my B’s heart. I look to my other side and see the box I put him in. Hell! I even moved Virgil out of the way. He’s sitting in Braxton’s room right now. If only he were Braxton, and that’s mean, I know. Again it was only last night Virgil crept out. Walking into the den, Virgil jumped up, wanting to cuddle. Did Virgil hear this heart? Broken? I keep saying that, but I can feel it pounding, and it will only get worse as the day goes on. There is no escape Madam. All last night I prayed for my death.

That’s something I’ll own. Or the “Bang, Bang” in my shorts. Fucking up this morning. Only it could be the guilt, fear, or anxiousness which also comes with masturbation. Yuck! Talk about something that should be kept surrounded by bones. Don’t you think so too? Skin and bones. Which appears even more likely when I see what I was getting back on the tax return. I won’t be boning anytime soon… that is if I paid for it. Working hard. Madam Justice, I wish I was today. It’s going to be a long day. But what about tomorrow, hmm? I put a better man in a box; my son Braxton. I can do without my head. My heart’s for Braxton. Hard Enough, Hearts Have Cages.

Chronicle 213 ~I’ll “B” Seeing You~
Gospel 213 ~Will “B” Seeing You~

729 Days Without B III, Day 170 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Saga 206 ~I Don’t Know Isn’t Stupidity~

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I ask authors, “things.” Or at least I read their books. The last one I talked to, I asked to see her yabbos. As far as asking anyone else anything… There’s B, but he never had answers. Comfort was enough. But speaking? “I Don’t Know Isn’t Stupidity”

Monday, January 23, 2023

Saga 206 ~I Don’t Know Isn’t Stupidity~

Two-Hundred and Seventy-Sixth Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now… which means stupidity, lies, and damn “white supremacy” (in some cases). It’s damn near a language, Madam.

But as the song goes, “first let me explain that I’m just a black man.” And while I could go all into racism as people like Ron DeSantis will keep it prevalent. Fuck you, DeSantis! Madam, for now, let’s focus on me. Oh, what? Not on my dead kid? Every day we take a step closer to Braxton’s second anniversary. That’s the wrong word, isn’t it, Madam? His Memorial Day? Aren’t I full of questions today? Now that I’m awake… in a better state of mind. But we’ll get to that in a bit. First, there’s B III. If only he were still alive. Madam, I don’t know how I’m going to do this. Pretty ironic, huh? The one I turned to never had answers.

Again, at least Braxton was/is real. And I would have never given in this morning. Madam, you can relax. As I said, I’m up now. Bright-eyed, bushy-tailed. Hairy butt? Virgil ticked me off last night. He’s becoming a brat with his outside time. Time-out? Last night he had to stay in Braxton’s room. So I didn’t bother thinking about behavior. Madam, I had mine to consider. My “Obsession” to go with another song. Fucking fuck. In case you were wondering where I was from, four in the morning, a half-hour. Cumming? I’m thankful that I didn’t. But there was Twitter, Tifa Lockhart’s tits, thumping over an English beauty, etc. How will I ever get over this? Boards don’t hit back. And some Triple D Yabbos?

It was either those or falling back asleep. The Million-dollar question. How do I exist? Every morning when I wake up… that’s Sugar Ray, by the way. Anyway, I look at the time. I was up at four again and settled down by 4:30. By five, I had an energy drink and had been watching The Last of Us reactions. On and off besides talking to you. And still, I wonder. Why don’t I have a billion dollars yet? You saw what it took to do banking and shopping. This week won’t be good, but with 100% truth, next week will be the worse since Sunday, January 31, 2021. Then 2022. Now a bratty friend in 2023. With no one to ask, I remain stupid. I Don’t Know Isn’t Stupidity

722 Days Without B III, Day 163 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Saga 199 ~Find Pains Greater Than Fear~

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Braxton is the word of God. As Christians say, God is Love. God to Dog. Easy mistake. Now FEAR and PAIN… I’ve claimed fear’s a great pain, next to losing B, the greatest. There’s Blue Balls, my “father, stupidity, and the GOP. Find Pains Greater Than Fear

Monday, January 16, 2023

Saga 199 ~Find Pains Greater Than Fear~

Two-Hundred and Seventy-Fifth Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now… which means I shouldn’t fear a damn thing. Honestly, there’s always… well, don’t need the cops knocking.

I don’t fear death. I wonder if Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. did. His birthday was yesterday and today’s his day… Hell! I wish I could say I looked into him first thing. Nope! Braxton. After that came porn. Then there was The Last of Us. Finally, Dr. King. He had much to fear. Fear is a great pain; I’m sorry, Grammarly and Hemmingway, for my lack of IQ. STUPIDITY! Next to the pain of my son’s passing/murder… Being Stupid is What Hurts The Most. It’s what leads me to read every single day. Or why I feel so “proud” watching The Last of Us and being all, “I understood that reference.” But nearly every waking moment Madam like the song goes, “I feel stupid!”

And to avoid it, I sleep only to feel worse after, for having to face the day. The time wasted. If you asked me what I wanted to do today, well, besides everything I’ve done since four in the morning. Well, starting with this conversation that we’re having. Fearing existence. There’s wanting to organize everything that’s piling up that I never get done. Lazy Ass! There’s also a book review I want to do… Things that keep me up, Madam. My Braxton, worrying things are breaking down. And some girls’ boobs. If only every book were written by a girl with a set of melons I’ve “almost” seen. But I won’t. But I’m not sleeping.

It’s a pain. But, yes, a fear as well, right?

Blue Balls keep me awake as well. I keep thinking, any minute now. I’m going to explode all over the place. If you saw what broke me from a 161-day streak mourning my B III.

A greater pain is what is about to happen a little less than an hour from now. I swear, dealing with people. At least this time, it isn’t my fault Madam. The pain my father brings. Isn’t it ironic? He is the one that not only brings pain but the very spirit of fear. But B? Braxton made me braver than I could ever know. But a pain far worse than my father could dare to dream. Then again, being brought to this existence? Fear? Find Pains Greater Than Fear.

715 Days Without B III, Day 156 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 223 ~Curse Of Being Aware~

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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 216 ~What Will B The…~

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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 209 ~Dreading What Will B~

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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 202 ~Breathe In, B Out~

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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