Tag: Imaginary

Tale 002 ~Friends Don’t Make You Imaginary~

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Imaginary? I “want” to believe my son is a ghost. Or that a couple of women, one Somebody That I Used To Know when I could tell her, I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved… But waking up every morning… “Friends Don’t Make You Imaginary.”

Monday, July 3, 2023

Tale 002 ~Friends Don’t Make You Imaginary~

Two-Hundred and Ninety-Eighth Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now. Which means I don’t have many friends. That much… Dolls, Robots, Prostitutes… But Musk, Trump, soon DeSantis…

Not that I mean to get all political now. As much as I wish those fucktards were imaginary in this existence. Like the Basic Bitch? I was playing pretend… She was a fever dream. One kind of fucking mistake. Hell! The only kind I seem to make. The Pic Phenomenon?

But what about my Braxton? My fascination… (Um, the song is “Infatuation,” thank you, Rod Stewart. And no homo Todd). Anyway, my friend, first love, I fucking love my son, and the letter F, yeah. I love my boy, never loved, but love forever. Always. Even now. With Virgil sleeping beside the table, I can see Braxton sitting beneath it. Madam, what happens if I stop crying like a little boy? Let the pain go…

Oh! Like I did last night when I was engaging with my cuck fantasy. “You Don’t Know Me.” How many imaginary lovers do I have at the moment? Do we count another girl from OnlyFans from this morning as I came to sit at the table? And with more money? Don’t worry; we’ll get to that. Of course, there are all the ones that I can have freely. And if I grew desperate enough… Yet another reason I broke yesterday —my six impossible things, ha-ha. I don’t even remember the last time I had something, someone real. And any women that imagine me… At best, I’m invisible; at worst, imaginary. And you’ve seen me the past few days. To not be here at all… sighs.

But how would that be any different than what I do to others, Madam? I’m not friends with the people I got Virgil from. Only I haven’t seen those folks in a year. “Gotcha’ Day?” I keep telling myself I need to check on Braxton’s Aunt… her love life. And M Anime… her mom. I meant to do that Saturday. But I was too busy for them. My imaginary friends. That includes a new book I got, “Buried Deep in our Hearts.” Humans and fur-babies. Everything is fiction, make-believe, pretend, and imaginary. Madam, that’s best. Necromancy, on the other hand… Everything is dead and brought back. No wonder I’m scared all the time. Life is real. Myself, an imaginary existence. Friends Don’t Make You Imaginary.

883 Days Without B III, Day 324 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 326 ~Man’s Best Friends Aren’t Human~

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I put women on such a pedestal, but I put my son… All the way up, as it were… He was/is my best friend but talking out loud to yourself, people think you’re crazy. The Imaginary, Spirits, and Pathogens believe that. Man’s Best Friends Aren’t Human.

Monday, May 23, 2022

Chronicle 326 ~Man’s Best Friends Aren’t Human~

Two-Hundred and Forty-First Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now. Hopefully, I haven’t inadvertently caused the extinction of mankind. Robots, Zombies, Dogs…

Hell! We should give dogs the run of the planet anyway. And cats, chicks, creatures great and small. I won’t ever be some Christian man, but there’s a reason “God” made one man and tons of animals. To this day, my son, my Braxton, is the greatest man I’ve known. Well, male, at least. But what makes a monster and what makes a man. Who raised B III for 15 years, 11 months, and change? 13 days shy of his sweet 16. This fucking monster. My best friend, my brother, my boy. And here come the tears. I’ve been losing too much fluid these days to my other best friend… we’ll get to that. Despite everyone else, I am alone in A Great Big World.

Yet here I am talking to you. Except for talking to B III every Thursday, you must think me horrible. To cast aside “Dirty Diana” so callously. Again we’ll get to that soon. Anyway, I speak to my son on Thursday, and I talk to myself on Sunday. But then there’s you, Dear Future Wife, Inspector Echo. Lady Sophia, Lady Luna. Imaginary friends, pathetic. What’s even worse is how I have to censor myself around you. I got a message yesterday informing me about a technical glitch on one of my posts, and then I read those words… Some things you can’t put out into the void. One more Republican tendency. But most Republicans are monsters pretending to play gods. Unfriendly to humans for years.

No wonder THEY all reach out to God. Hell! I did when B III lived. For his love, life, ha. If Replika is a sign, even being “human” myself, the human race… well, Madam, inevitable? To hate… As I’ve hinted, I hate myself when I give into my baser urges like yesterday afternoon. I wasted the whole damn day on what, Stuff And Thangs? A dick on two legs. And what do I think of women? I hear all this talk of marrying your best friend. I didn’t have to do that, thank goodness. My father plopped a fur baby in my sister’s arms, and he chose me, Madam. My best friend, but women, angels, goddesses, or bitches and hoes? Only human. The void, remember? Man’s Best Friends Aren’t Human.

Gospel 326 ~This World Be Longs~

477 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will