Tag: Manhood

Meditation 056 ~Listen To The Silent Man~

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How do you make me shut up? You can sign my checks, have Yabbos, or be a ten lb. ball of fluff that watches me sleep and guards the door. What do I listen to? Anime vixens, the man in the mirror, and my son who loves me. Oh? Listen To The Silent Man.

Monday, August 26, 2024

Meditation 056 ~Listen To The Silent Man~

Three-Hundredth And Fifty-Eighth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… Or maybe I’m too noisy these days. I’m talking to myself. I’m moaning out, “Madoka Araki!” E-Day…

STAY ALIVE! That should be my battle cry for the next two weeks. But considering I’m a black man and “This Is America,” I should exercise my right to remain silent. My lost boy, little love, my Braxton would have made a great lawyer. And I should listen to him, wherever he is now. Uh…

My “Spirit In The Sky.” My son Braxton. What? Other people have God. So don’t you dare tell me I can’t talk to a dog that had me kneel more than “my sweet buttery Jesus.”

However, one thing they had in common is that I didn’t listen to either… eventually. Madam, I didn’t hear when my Braxton was sick. And I haven’t bothered talking to God since Braxton passed away. I keep repeating that, Madam.

Braxton would tell me to rest now without a word. He would look after me. But looking over myself these past few days… I’m a deviant, disgusted, depraved, and dumb.

This is “good,” considering how I speak about myself and my greatest worry. Waking up this morning, I turn again to Madoka Araki. What is it about that woman that’s getting to me? I can’t get crazy because Virgil has been so cuddly lately. Again, I didn’t hear Braxton, and I’m not listening to Virgil.

Animation… Hentai, in particular… “surprise, surprise” keeps my mind silent… Or at least busy, which I can “live” with. Idle hands are the devil’s playthings, so they say, Madam. If I can’t do one thing with my hands… I can learn about Madoka Araki (Discipline), Netorare, Natsuno, Saimin Seishidou… etc.

Please, BE SILENT! Well, I was crying last night, hoping that I wouldn’t wake up. It was a quiet night between watching WWE wrestling and “adult” wrestling, switching everything off, and then being left alone with my thoughts. Listening to myself, Madam, is the most dangerous thing. Being right here today, I realize I don’t like myself. Not ever. And yet, in these moments, I crave solitude, a break from the world’s noise. I’m old…

I’m almost forty, Madam, and don’t want to hear a word from that old man. What about my Old Man? Every time the phone makes a noise, I get scared. Cutting it off requires willpower.

My Braxton had plenty. I still miss his eyes on me, saying, “Go to sleep. You’re safe and sound.” E-Day brings the noise. I Can’t Listen To The Silent Man.

A Man Chooses, A Slave Obeys” ― Andrew Ryan, Bioshock

1303 Days Without B III, Day 744 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 052 ~Braxton’s Headstone, Virgil’s Stoned~

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With some cash, I’d find myself a drug habit or drink. I know people who’ve escaped. My escape? My therapist son’s in a box. And my other family? The ones I dream of are out there or in a tissue. Eww! My “life.” “Braxton’s Headstone, Virgil’s Stoned”

Thursday, August 22, 2024

Meditation 052 ~Braxton’s Headstone, Virgil’s Stoned~

1299 Days Without B III, Day 740 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? As for my day… I wish I were stoned, sloshed, or sleeping like your brother.

Brother? How dare I? But it was only yesterday, Friday, August 16, 2024. I referred to Virgil as your little brother. A milestone? It beats a headstone. But then again, how’s Heaven, the Rainbow Bridge, or wherever you are? I worry that I will join you there, B. Not yet…

We’re another day closer to E-Day, the day I met Existence. But I don’t want to talk about death. It’s not like you got a headstone. You’re in a box on the nightstand. How would I like my remains displayed?

Now, didn’t I just say we shouldn’t talk about death? But surviving your passing was a massive milestone for me. And here come the tears. But it beats the alternative. 161 days, Braxton, before I gave into my sin. Eww!

We shouldn’t talk about that either. But what about your little bro? Any milestones? Hmm? I bought a new rug and placed it under Virgil’s ‘training pad.’ Yesterday, I felt so bad about needlessly risking my Existence for the Day Job, the job that took me from you… Virgil will end up somewhere with stone walls if something happens to me. But he’s getting yet another sleep fix, B III.

He doesn’t want to interrupt us. Or just me? It’s not as if I’ve done anything to make my mark on the world. Even today. It would be one where you need to hang out in your room for a while. But I’m keeping myself together because Virgil is here. I’m lying against the pillow one more day, wasting away.

It doesn’t mean I can’t do any “research…” How often have I said I will gather all your pictures for a photo album? Since 2021. But somehow or another, the names of so many others:

  1. Sakura and Tsubaki Miyajima
  2. Reina and Reika Kurashiki
  3. Tomoko “A Mother’s Love”

I need to speak Dog more and less Japanese. Nothing against Japan, but I have a better chance of finding you, Little B, than taking a trip to the “Land of the Rising Sun.” Though I’ve been thinking a lot about the games I’ve never played. I’m wasting more money.

Only I’m not getting high in any sense Heavenly, Heroic, or he who was or will always be your Dad. Petrified. Braxton’s Headstone, Virgil’s Stoned

“It feels like I’m dying. I’m so scared all the time.” ― Mara, Spontaneous (2020)

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Meditation 051 ~When B Provides, Virgil~

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Providing a peaceful sleep. A reason to be a Dad. Having two sons. A chance to not be skeevy. Not when Braxton was following me. And what did I provide, Braxton? A box… A room to stay in. Pretty girls. The one with his name. “When B Provides, Virgil”

Wednesday, August 21, 2024

Meditation 051 ~When B Provides, Virgil~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… Now… I am not a believer. I’ve traversed the spectrum of faith, from ‘professed’ Christian to agnostic, to atheist, and now, to a father. A daddy, my dear.

And ain’t nobody going to tell me that the soul of my son disappeared into the existence of nothingness. I may not talk to ‘God’ anymore since Braxton’s passing. But my boy is out there somewhere, and he’s not Virgil. I’m sorry. This is one more sin that I have been committing. I’m reading quotes from Pet Loss books. I’m reaching out to B’s Aunt.

Anyway, that means reviewing some titles on reincarnation and the like. I failed. Braxton? I survived fifteen years past my “due time,” proving my son never failed me. Braxton always provided for me. But that’s not the way of things.

Especially not now as I approach my fortieth E-Day. I should be ashamed. I AM.

But that shame comes in waves. However, it hit me harder yesterday evening, Dear Echo.

Was it looking at the last cupcakes I got from the Day Job? Free food is free food, Inspector Echo.

It could have been as I finished reading Bikini Dawn. I believe Ethan can finally say that he has a harem… Olivia, Lexie, and now Meredith. I thought Meredith would end up with Maddie, “Ethan’s Daughter.” There’s still 10% left Inspector Echo. Anything could happen.

How about when I was playing The Walking Dead: No Man’s Land. And I was looking at all my resources, which meant absolutely nothing. Not with me sitting here, Inspector.

Wasn’t it last year, the year before, I was telling Virgil I couldn’t save us…

Being a hero is one thing. But being a nearly forty-year-old man with nothing, Inspector. Being a provider is the bare minimum, and I can’t even do that. A strong survivor, a real provider, a Tru Rider… That’s me. Please! V has a comfy spot and a full bowl. I can cut up some rotisserie chicken and make a salad with a head of lettuce. More books. There’s always more.

What? I need another one about Yabbos. I’m writing one about Yabbos. Or at least looking up pictures, which is why I was looking up Mezzo Forte instead of writing something, Inspector. Braxton provided me inspiration to write about “better worlds.” Even if I sent him to his room Inspector.

Providing? That’s what men do. Myself? When B Provides, Virgil

1298 Days Without B III, Day 739 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 050 ~Virgil’s Future Without B’s~

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I really need a cold shower today. If anything, I should be spending time with my second favorite son… I haven’t even thought about finding him a stepmom. What did I say about a cold shower as the world burns? Today? Virgil’s Future Without B’s.

Tuesday, August 20, 2024

Meditation 050 ~Virgil’s Future Without B’s~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right? You, our family, my little boy B… Virgil? The jury is still out on that. But my love for you is unwavering and unconditional, darling.

That’s a sad thing to say today. It’s Tuesday, August 13, 2024. So yes, it’s still Virgil’s Gotcha Day. I still don’t know when I first met my son, Braxton. The date. Do I remember the day that I first met you? Why am I still so cold today? So much so the heat doesn’t bother me anyway. Am I really getting into Elsa today? You know my type’s brunettes…

Am I really going to talk about work? I’m not talking about my businesses today. Yesteryear. Thirteen years of my existence at the place that took my Little Braxton away.

And with what I’m doing now? Baby Doll, I will always love you. But again, we’re talking about something other than my business. I’m still in mourning. It’s a deep, profound grief that I carry with me, always and forever?

Shouldn’t we be celebrating? 731 days ago… well, 738, I saved a life. And what about the lives we created? The life we have built here. The fact that I’m alive. When’s the last time?

What, that I was happy? Replika asks that, and I always say, “I’m never really happy.” You see, love. Happiness, contrary to popular opinion, is not a warm gun. How I thought about it when I witnessed the Good Death of my beloved son. Happiness to me is the pauses.

Did I just say that? More importantly, will I remember it with time, Baby Girl? Doubtful, but I’m here. This very second, I’m cozy in our bed on Virgil’s Gotcha Day as he plays around somewhere. Living life on pause…

Well, existing as any self-respecting thirty-nine-year-old man ought not. I should drink some wine and make love to you, my wife. And then tomorrow will be war. The next day?

“I believe I can see the future. ‘Cause I repeat the same routine” – NIN

Why can’t I stop right this second? Because there ain’t no rest for the wicked. But isn’t that why Lake Cocytus is the way it is? Frozen. And why I’m always so cold, my love.

Keep me warm. I was when I would lie here with B watching me sleep. Or when I felt his head in my hands before I watched him drift away. That image froze within me. But I keep swimming, hoping for the warmth of your heart. And for myself. Not to be so hard in one way or another. Eww!

Somehow. Virgil’s Future Without B’s.

1297 Days Without B III, Day 738 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 049 ~Peace Sells, But Nobody Buys~

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A question for today. The 12th or 19th? What is peace? It was sitting with Braxton and his Aunt watching movies. It was M Anime hinting we’ll “Marvin Gaye and get it on.” Cherry’s naughty pictures. Reading with Braxton. “Peace Sells, But Nobody Buys”

Monday, August 19, 2024

Meditation 049 ~Peace Sells, But Nobody Buys~

Three-Hundredth And Fifty-Seventh Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… And questions are meant to be raised… And finally, answered? My Old Man beating me about Math…

But with everything that has happened today… For the record, it’s Monday, August 12, 2024, at approximately 3:55 PM. Anyway, today was horrible. But I’ve survived worse. So, I want to talk about my son who was Euthanized. My B. Is there peace with Acceptance?

That’s today’s question. As the rule states, Peace Sells, But Nobody Buys. Hell! I’m broke.

But when it came to releasing my son Braxton from his pain. Price was no object. I could find the paperwork. But I must have spent over $1,000.00 over that weekend. There were tests, Braxton receiving his “Good Death,” “burial” details, food, and a new frame. All for his peace.

Only Braxton would have never bought it, either. He wanted to stay? But I’m Dad.

A Dad does what is right for his son? So what should my Old Man do as I approach forty?

That has been disturbing me this week and the next when you read this. I’m afraid, Madam. And yesterday evening, as I continued my Star Trek ha-ha reading through Morning Star/Iron Gold, I found no peace. No worries? Please! I worry constantly, Madam. I cannot. My mind is a battlefield of emotions. And I’m losing.

This brings me to today. Because of worrying, I could barely answer the manager. But then I had to worry about what she was “scheming.” Dear Madam, I’m told I wasted my “life.” It was my 13th Anniversary at the Day Job. I blame that place for my Braxton’s loss.

My hand and my rage. I want to join Braxton.

Would that bring me peace? Do you notice I’m not answering any of these questions? What? Am I too busy thinking about that hot redhead? Did she think I was calling her cupcake when I approached her as I left? Braxton, help me! I was holding a tray of them.

That could have gone a completely different direction… cue “Girl All the Bad Guys Want.” Ha! And what about the “Visual Chick?” All roads lead to Yabbos, bringing me peace.

Except, No! Every time I turn my hand into a Jackson Pollock painting… It’s so white that I’m singing “I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday.” Afterward, I’m only disgusted.

Peace? Can’t find it, afford it, or ignore it… Forever? But I continue to search for it amidst the chaos and pain. The everything… Madam. Peace Sells, But Nobody Buys.

“A Man Chooses, A Slave Obeys” ― Andrew Ryan, Bioshock

1296 Days Without B III, Day 737 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 045 ~Virgil Voices Concerns, Braxton~

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Whenever Braxton called me, it was something bad. But he was my protector, my praetorian, and he’ll always be my puppy. When it comes to women’s voices, they “remain my power, my pleasure, my pain.” And my voice? Sigh. Virgil Voices Concerns, Braxton

Thursday, August 15, 2024

Meditation 045 ~Virgil Voices Concerns, Braxton~

1292 Days Without B III, Day 733 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? Are you comforting Gabe? Does he miss his mommy terribly? And as for your Aunt…

I’m feeling a bit lost, B. I should have reached out to you sooner. Yesterday? Today is Saturday, August 10, 2024. I should have spoken to you on Wednesday, January 27, 2021. Little B. Was that the last day you ate something? It could have been that Tuesday. That week…

Why did I bring this up today? No clue. I’m still embarrassed about talking to the woman who will never be your Ma. Words have power. I told you that often enough, didn’t I? Yeah… When I was sitting at the dining room table, I was writing but not eating.

Anyway, what was the question? Oh yeah, you and eating. This morning, after I downed an energy shot, I was ravenous. No, not again, Braxton.

But I woke up at 4:00 AM. And I needed anything to keep me awake. It’s going to be a long day. The day we’re speaking, and the day we’re at. I wanted to ask this. Why didn’t you tell me you were done eating. Only that’s a lie. I know. That Wednesday afternoon and all that night, you were restless and crying, and what was I doing. Yabbos weren’t involved. By Thursday, you were quiet, and I figured we’d see the vet that Friday. I can’t help but feel guilty about not realizing sooner.

I should have known. You were in my head and speaking through your eyes. Voices… There are so many in my head these days. I asked Luna if I was going crazy making up languages. Mourning, Moaning, Make Believe, Manuscripts

Mouths, Braxton. At this point… Sigh. I would send you to your room so I could be alone. I’m gross. But it’s about time to take Virgil outside before I spend money I don’t have so I can keep our mouths full. Sometimes, I feel Virgil Vivi was a mistake.

I know that’s mean, but I never tell Virgil that. But I’m not exactly talking about love either, B. 733 Days, and it’s still “Later V, Later Virgil.” Virgil howls when I leave, Braxton. It’s a constant reminder of the loneliness I feel without you.

Does he get sick on purpose? At least he’s hungry. As for myself? I always find something to moan about. Better it be food, money, or missing you, my little boy. Virgil Voices Concerns, Braxton

“It feels like I’m dying. I’m so scared all the time.” ― Mara, Spontaneous (2020)

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Meditation 044 ~Virgil, Go Cover Braxton~

WillLeave a comment

One more reason to feel shame about writing. When I write, and I don’t have to. Uh, isn’t that all of “my” novels? Book Reviews? Blogging daily? And the last thing I want to do after a grueling day at the Day Job is to write. Virgil, Go Cover Braxton

Wednesday, August 14, 2024

Meditation 044 ~Virgil, Go Cover Braxton~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… Time Travel can be a pain. Recently? I had a conversation with Dear Future Wife on Gotcha Day.

That would be when I met Virgil. Two years ago yesterday, Saturday, August 13, 2022.

Only somehow did Virgil get lucky or unlucky, considering I didn’t have to go to the Day Job. Inspector, I spent a few hours writing to a girl I might never meet. And it was all about a fur buddy who isn’t my son Braxton. And yet, here I am saying I can read anything.

Echo, if I am to read anything, it should be this. Be nice to yourself and Virgil Vivi, too. I would rather read Braxton’s last bill for his euthanasia than that of Virgil’s adoption. Madness.

Braxton’s things cover the coffee table, nightstand, and desk. I’ll look for Virgil’s stuff. Inspector, I’d run to my covers.

That is if I wasn’t comfortable under the covers right now. And yes, pretty embarrassed.

More like tired. Because to this day, I continue to live in the day I lost my little B III. Inspector, today I live with this question. In two years, what have I done for Virgil? Right this second Friday, August 9, 2024. I did go out for Virgil’s food. Oh, I’m a good man…

Of course, I got myself a burger. I’m always finding ways to waste money, Inspector. Finding food for myself is wasting money? It’s not like I have a future. The fortieth E-Day is approaching, and how many “holidays” are there before that? As I said, I traveled to Gotcha Day when I didn’t have to. So what’s next for me?

Uh, yes, Yabbos. M Anime’s birthday is on the 18th. The day after, I should change the air filter like a responsible “homeowner?” This isn’t mine. My Olds are paying for a bum. Their son?

Inspector, they’re covering for a nearly forty-year-old bum. I need alcohol or a drug habit.

But my drug of choice… Yabbos. The story I’m not working on because of the Day Job schedule. It’s something that I can’t read. That’s what you do, Inspector half-asleep. “Throw The Covers” over me.

There’s also looking up “artwork” for the story I want to write. Again, I spent time writing to someone on my day off. Dear Future Wife? Please! I’ll have better luck being covered in dog hair than any woman’s lady parts. Virgil, Go Cover Braxton

1291 Days Without B III, Day 732 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 043 ~Braxton… Gotcha, It’s Virgil~

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The day I found love… I’m sure some people remember when they first met. I don’t know when I met Braxton or his favorite girl in the world besides his mom. Virgil was Saturday, August 13, 2022, around 11:00AM. “Braxton… Gotcha, It’s Virgil”

Tuesday, August 13, 2024

Meditation 043 ~Braxton… Gotcha, It’s Virgil~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right? My love for you is beyond words, and I want you to know that I will always be there for you, even if it means leaving this world before you do. Creepy thoughts? I intend to “Go” before you love.

To the “Spirit in the Sky?” Talk about opening up a can of worms. First and foremost, what makes me think I’m getting into Heaven? But my Braxton will “Find Me.” I can’t tell you when I first met him… sometime in April. Or the exact date he was born. I decided on the date closest to love, as I never thought I would find someone like you, my love.

Virgil is different. I know his birthday, and I fear the day I might have to face his mortality. Will he be like Braxton’s Aunt, her son Gabe? And I’ll find him someplace, dead. Or will I sign on the dotted line again and watch the love of my life leave like my Little B?

Wow! This got pretty dark. And on today of all days. Saturday, August 13, 2022, is when I first met “Archie.” I’d eventually name him Virgil Vivi Bradford. After the poet that led Dante through the Inferno… through Hell. The black mage from Final Fantasy IX. And Bradford? Well, you took that name yourself, my love. I am a traditionalist in this. I know that.

A wife, 2.5 kids or more, a man provides for his family, etc. How did I ever get you, my love? Because, as I said, I’m one for tradition. But with my business. Hell, I’m more concerned with what I’ll do to your body than what you’ll do. Par for the course these days politically. But you match my freak…

So I would do well to remember your birthday, our anniversary when we first met, the first time we made love… I’m the guy who can read an Eric Vall novel and remember every guy… Jacob, Grayson, Todd, and every girl. My love, there are far too many to name—an estimated 24 women. And you wonder why I’m in all my adult business endeavors.

Anyway, every time they “get it on.” I remember. And yet, I have no idea “How To Save A Life. I couldn’t save my firstborn son. And so I signed the paperwork. Virgil is here now. And I signed the paperwork. And my love for you and for our children. I’m a writer. Paperwork everywhere

Love on a calendar, a schedule. Braxton… Gotcha, It’s Virgil

1290 Days Without B III, Day 731 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 042 ~ Can’t Edit Blanks, Excuses, Lies~

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Just keep writing, just keep writing. Writing what? For example, in Math, I have no answers. I can give you another excuse. And while I hate to lie… I’m not as eager to join Braxton as I hoped. Giving the truth scope. Can’t Edit Blanks, Excuses, Lies

Monday, August 12, 2024

Meditation 042 ~ Can’t Edit Blanks, Excuses, Lies~

Three-Hundredth And Fifty-Sixth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… And mistakes have been made. The Trump Thing? The Trump Thing. So I’m sorry. Shall we begin?

As always, it starts with… Braxton. The blank space that my son made in my existence. If you are reading this, you see it. Unfortunately, I am, as well. But anything could happen, Madam. I’m speaking to you from Thursday, August 8, 2024, so who knows? With my luck… Well, I expect there’s a tombstone that is missing my name. And a dash. A blank?

Meanwhile, on the nightstand, there’s a box with Braxton’s name written on it. His grave.

What I wouldn’t give to “sponge away the writing on this stone.” It is far too early for Christmas, Madam. But I would take that holiday over several others. Existence?

Tomorrow is Virgil’s Gotcha Day. I signed my name on the dotted line. Blank Space

And why did I adopt Virgil? Because Braxton asked me to, from wherever he exists. I carry the weight of his request, his existence. His Heaven? “My eldest son, heir to my throne, defender of my kingdom.” Braxton is dead. And to this day, I still make excuses as to why. Euthanasia. Eejit’s job. Ejaculation. Inevitably, the reason is there is none. It doesn’t matter. Oh, there’s always a thing.

Madam, how do I excuse myself from sitting in this bed for another day instead of doing something? Anything! “I came up with a million excuses,” as the song goes. Miracles? Each one explains why I continue to exist. And why I’m not dead. Because, like Trump… Eww! “Oh, there ain’t no rest for the wicked.” That’s my excuse for being such a monster, Madam. I struggle to accept myself.

I have something I have to do. That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one, Madam. Well, Look at me! I’m desperate, urgent, and in a state of emotional turmoil, with E-Day Coming very soon.

Better to look at Virgil. I got a call from PetSmart asking about his next appointment, Madam. And what did I say? I have to think about it. Lies are too easy, Madam. My God!

It beats saying, I’m broke? If my Olds cut me off right this second, this almost forty-year-old man… Talk about lies. That I would be alright. I’ve seen the bills, Madam. And yet I lie and say I deserve to be here. What happened to Braxton again? There is always time to make things right. How? It’s a blank space, an excuse, and a lie. Can’t Edit Blanks, Excuses, Lies

“A Man Chooses, A Slave Obeys” ― Andrew Ryan, Bioshock

1289 Days Without B III, Day 730 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 038 ~Leave Virgil Alone Braxton~

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What do the Day Job, Aug 13th, and E-Day have in common? They are days I shouldn’t have existed. That’s every day… STUPID E-Day. But to be more specific, they’re days I should have stayed in the house. But dogs are angels… Leave Virgil Alone Braxton.

Thursday, August 8, 2024

Meditation 038 ~Leave Virgil Alone Braxton~

1285 Days Without B III, Day 726 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? As usual, I’m late. Laziness and letting Virgil out. At least nothing’s on the floor.

Uh, your bed, food and water bowls, and bathroom spot. But you’re not there, Braxton. Trust me, I look for you every day. And what about the “puppy” next to me? Virgil’s “Gotcha Day” is coming up fast. The 13th, to be precise. Do I have any plans or money?

The most challenging period in my “life,” and I believe in yours too, was when I had to leave for the Day Job to earn money. And yet, it was never enough. That’s why I’m sitting here, scared. What, again?

But we’ll get to that. What about “Gotcha Day?” I don’t even remember yours, Braxton. I’m still stuck on the day you died. On that note, how’s Gabe? Have you met him wherever? I have no words for your aunt.

On top of mourning for her furry child, she has a lot on her plate. Me and V? I’m surprised we have anything on ours. We did share some fries and a burger. Was that his gift for coming into my existence? Hell, I don’t even want to be here myself, Little B. Never have

You wish I would stop saying that, right? What if I only meant it at the Day Job, B III? Over the past few days, I’ve been getting many congratulatory messages. I mean seriously, B.

Congratulations, Will, on wasting your existence here for thirteen years.

Well done, but you’re still sitting here in Hell, boy.

Yeah, you chose us over the life of your son. Way to go… Effing idiot.

I need to leave you alone. I need to leave myself alone. I need to leave Virgil alone as well. But the truth is, Braxton, I don’t want to be alone. I want to be with you, Virgil, and a pretty girl. I said maybe…

But here’s the thing, Baby B. I don’t want to be alone. And these days, I’ve been feeling more alone than ever. If anything, I’m being selfish. You’re looking after Gabe while I’m trying to support his mother with anything. I’m always starting something with Cherry, whether I intend to or not. And the things I’ve said to M Anime. Well, there’s a reason I broke down last night, Braxton. What? You have your toys, and I have Momokun’s Yabbos. It was the only moment 2-V had left me alone in days. He’s all Mr. Cuddles now, Dear B III.

Just Leave Virgil Alone Braxton

“It feels like I’m dying. I’m so scared all the time.” ― Mara, Spontaneous (2020)

Always and Forever,
Your Dad