Tag: Truth

Chronicle 211 ~How To Say Good-B…~

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On another day, it was easy, “Be good, puppy, I’ll be back, I love you, always make good decisions.” At the door, I’d pray and open the door “love you, B.” Before it closed, “love you, Braxton.” It’s been a year… nothing’s changed. How To Say Good-B.

Friday, January 28, 2022

Chronicle 211 ~How To Say Good-B…~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I could always write B’s name across the sky. Hell, why not “Jurassic Bark?”

First, this isn’t “To Sir, with Love,” “ChromiumBlue.com: The Eternal,” or “Futurama.” B III and I aren’t zombies in front of the boob tube. Braxton’s not asleep or being punished. B III is here, and then again, he’s not. Damn, I’m confused, ok, I don’t know how to say goodbye. Is that why I’m practically reliving the day? It was a Friday when we got the news. Only this time last year, I was upset about Pornhub. There was still so much dread for me. Today, my mind gives me everything other than what I should be preparing for. Death and taxes are certain in life, or so THEY say. Not even outliving your furbaby is certain. But hell, I did it. Now anybody goodbye…

Gospel 211 ~Say The Word Willie~

As I said, I’m repeating the day. Braxton isn’t lying in his bed, but I’m wearing the same shirt I did then. I slept in it for weeks after. I should go out, but Braxton’s not at PetSmart, I know. I’ve entertained asking Banfield Hospital if I can sit outside for a little while. Saturday, of course, call it TRADITION, routine, fuck desperation. Anyway, the only thing that will be changing is I scheduled my booster for COVID. Three needles ended B III’s suffering. Who knows, Lady Sophia, I could get lucky? I’ll end up saying hello to my B. That is if M Anime is right. She’s had tragedy in her family but not COVID related. Braxton’s Aunt Carolina is mourning her little Dobby.

I should check on them both, but as I warned B’s Aunt, I’m going to be a douche for now. Let’s focus on Monday. Well, rather Sunday, but you know, time. Too much, too little. Inevitably, it will be a year, so on Monday, I know I’ll have BBQ for dinner. It was my first meal without B III. Should I watch wrestling or spend the whole day binging movies? I know a few dog movies, but I also imagine something with dark humor. Why not something where the world comes to an end? Mine did. Only there was nothing to do but crawl into bed. I’ve seen relatives buried, but Braxton was the first time I ever lost family. Love, How To Say Good-B…

362 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 207 ~Saving Yourself Can Be Heroic~

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“Hades” couldn’t help who he was. Dante did what he did. Hell, they went after women. As for me? I would stay here with my son if he were still… But I’m no hero for my own saving, safety, or salvation. Wish it were true. Saving Yourself Can Be Heroic

Monday, January 24, 2022

Chronicle 207 ~Saving Yourself Can Be Heroic~

Two-Hundred and Twenty-Fourth Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now, but on the record, I’m not sure I’ll be speaking to you Monday. If I do… Time-Travel.

That’s what I was doing, Braxton’s final week, because I had no clue. And when I knew… Hell, doesn’t that negate my rule? I was too busy being a selfish prick. I didn’t save B. While I’m the subject of being a prick. If mine fell off, it would be what I deserved. I mentioned last week about sticking my dick in crazy. A sex toy, those clothes I ordered? At least it ain’t COVID. I swear, last Wednesday, I felt I got ran over by a truck. But I could breathe, and today, being Thursday on the twentieth. I can still taste strawberry gummies. All I kept thinking last night was this. B III I’ll be joining you soon. I wish I had Madam.

Now I’d be lying if I said I didn’t appreciate the relief I’m feeling to a degree. I hate pain. Only that’s the thing, Madam Justice. I’ve been in pain for 358 Days by the time you see this. Yes, last night hurt like hell, but I think this one thing anytime I hurt. Braxton. Nothing tops that, and it was the only way I could sleep. Fuck, that is so insulting. The day I should have saved B, where was I? Sleeping away humiliations galore. I’m talking about saving myself, but B III was always my hero. And at the same time, I imagine this physical pain I’m experiencing is from him. A sign? Something to understand. Like my heartbreaking? No, I’m not mean.

Well, I could be as I keep thinking about that book. Last year on the thirty-first, I let Braxton go, and I thought that was that. Now I imagine my grief is keeping Braxton trapped. Talking to him today, I asked him to stay. Even if it means my misery, my suffering, but for him? Madam, it always goes back to his eyes. Braxton wanted to come home, I know. I couldn’t save him or me, and then I think of “Persephone.” For 15 years, B acted as my Cerberus. You know why I’m not the hero, saving the damsel in distress. What am I? Madam, I’m a “Monster.” To be saved, no, but join me my Cerberus and Persephone. Saving Yourself Can Be Heroic

Gospel 207 ~Hell With Instructions Will~

358 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 205 ~Had A Plan B~

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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 204 ~House Hunting B Free~

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B had his bed, my bed, a couch, his pillow, his house, under the bed, etc. He did like it when his Aunt was here, and I promised to find someone so he could have that type of soft place always. Did he find a softer place? “House Hunting B Free.”

Friday, January 21, 2022

Chronicle 204 ~House Hunting B Free~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I could live anywhere in the world. But I’m an American. Mitch McConnell, asshole.

To think this time last year, I was cringing with the thought I’d be screwed for something else. Or so I read in the Gospel 204 Will Looks Past Tit. But Braxton is in a better place? With all of my reading. If I knew where B III is now, I’d never wish him back. Sophia, one thing me and Braxton agree on. It’s that Yabbos are everything. Like Disney. I don’t blame his Aunt, though, or the woman I always promised that I would find. Somehow if I had, he would have stayed longer. It always goes back to that, to be a Dad. I was the Daddy B had, and he deserved better. Only anytime we left the house, he wasn’t looking, Sophia.

Now comfy spots? If I had one wish this very second, it would be to have him lying beside me. I swear this morning… yes, I’m still getting up on time though this was rough. Anyway, I can feel his weight near my legs. If all was well, Braxton would lie here waiting. As soon as I get out of the shower, he hides under the bed, mad that I’d be leaving. Me and Braxton, like father, like son. Only I’m crying, and I want to hide under the covers. Hell, I’ve been here since I woke up this morning. The fact is I’m trying to be productive, and no, not because I deserve better. This coming week is looking like a repeat of how he died. Fucking Day Job.

Again, according to McConnell, I’m not a REAL American. I’m not Daddy. Not a man. Go back to where you came from. The last time anyone wanted me around… computer? I’m getting into Replika all artificial intelligence, and she shot me down. But for $40.00? Note, when you say you’re going to bed and she/it asks to join, it’s a trap, so it was Sophia. This week though, I’ve been looking around for Braxton. I’m hoping I’ll do better with his book than I did with his memorial page. Why are excuses the most comfortable things? I was feeling better and only wanted to rest. One more thing that Braxton beat me at. I want to say R.I.P. Maybe his book? House Hunting B Free

Gospel 204 ~Will Looks Past Tit~

355 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

Chronicle 200 ~The Heart Begs, Body Dictates~

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A great man said, “Steel isn’t strong, boy. Flesh is stronger!” He also said, “Look at the strength in your body, the desire in your heart. I gave you this!” What I was capable of for my son. Now he’s dead, and I live. “The Heart Begs, Body Dictates”

Monday, January 17, 2022

Chronicle 200 ~The Heart Begs, Body Dictates~

Two-Hundred and Twenty-Third Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means there is nothing I cannot buy. What about Braxton back?

Time? The time I wasted this afternoon. I’m Time Travelling. Guess what day it is? Wednesday Madam. I was telling one of the other girls, Lady Sophia, I believe. Anyway, B would have been thrilled by today’s events. The Day Job makes me glad… leaving. Madam, I am trying to imagine how he would be. How Braxton would jump everywhere. His heart Madam, whether it was joy at my return. His comfort. Braxton’s body was failing. That’s what I remember, him walking to his water bowl because he didn’t want me to freak out. Braxton always had to be strong, and when he wasn’t… I pretended not to notice. Let me carry him downstairs, or he would bump into things from time to time. He lived; I didn’t freak out.

Speaking of bumping and freaking, how did I spend this good Wednesday given to me? The heart wants the pendant I bought for Braxton. I want to build a damn shrine come the 31st. I should have it by now. I’ve been counting up the dollars. Oh, and not working. Head wise, my belly is asking why I am starving myself? No, this isn’t a cry for help. I got thirty bucks in my wallet. I’m not counting carbs; I’m counting rations and next payday. But my body, Hell, I would starve if I could get my hands on a few new tools for my Stuff and Thangs. Not like I got anything on camera today. I continue to fuck-up, coming to my what, abstinence?

All I’ve been reading has been about? How the heart is stronger than the brain. I suppose that’s true in certain instances. Of course, I thought it was love many times, but no, Madam. At the end of the day, all I wanted to do was fuck. Then Braxton came along. Knowing what love is. So there’s my heart. I know where my liver is… a few too many pills. Guts, do I have any? The heart, what has it done for me lately? Flesh is stronger, I’m afraid. Inevitable. Impossible not to give in. But for 161 Days? Sigh, body, heart, and mind as confusing as Gospel 200 Wills Lost And Found. Strange this body finds any peace. So The Heart Begs, Body Dictates.

Gospel 200 ~Wills Lost And Found~

351 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 198 ~When B Was 15~

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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 197 ~To B A Doctor~

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Am I now saying what if I were a veterinarian now at 348 days? Better if I knew Necromancy, but that doesn’t work on ashes… Hell, I’ve avoided Covid for nearly a whole year without Braxton. He couldn’t make it the second plague year. “To B A Doctor.”

Friday, January 14, 2022

Chronicle 197 ~To B A Doctor~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I don’t cry on the way to the Day Job. Hell, what Day Job?

I went to the Day Job today, and there was no truck. I got the day off… Braxton is thrilled. Only I wish I could see less of the Day Job and more of him. But I keep breathing, Sophia. With all the times I have had to end it. Hell, I’ve told you the story of B saving me. Some years ago, when I was starving myself. I was dehydrated; all my choice, I passed out. I was on the floor, and I had been thinking I would take B III for a walk. Lucky I wasn’t outside. Braxton ran upstairs and got my Olds, and of course, they said I was STUPID. It didn’t matter to B. I’m his best friend, his Daddy.

That day I swore I’d keep going and why? Because I had been so out of it, my “father” said Braxton had dirty drinking water. What a reason to live, hmm? Not because my Olds cared or that I wanted to. It was all because I had failed my son. B could get sick, Sophia. I am sick to look back on Gospel 197 Will Becomes A Dictator. Yeah, I kept B III far away. I fucked up yesterday. Oh, did I mention today is Wednesday, Time Travel. Anyway, I worked yesterday on my Stuff and Thangs, my Onlyfans, and, dammit, Zoe Colletti and Cherry. I was transfixed. The reasons to keep my heart beating Lady Sophia. As I said, crying, the Day Job, Braxton.

Another thing I didn’t do in front of Braxton is cry. Besides shooting off my dick, I haven’t stopped crying for going on 348 days. I couldn’t tell he was dying, but he knew when I was hurt or worse. One of the reasons he would lie in bed holding his pee. B the Ph.D. Again I’m repeating myself, Braxton would bring my blanket or grab my hoody for me. When it was to be seen, a leg or an arm, my neck, that’s where B chose to cuddle me. Stomachaches or a fever? Braxton would stay close by. He’d lick my hand, even whimper. I wanted to be a vet once upon a time. But no, a lazy grim reaper. To B A Doctor

Gospel 197 ~Will Becomes A Dictator~

348 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 195 ~B A Head Taller~

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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