I don't usually make long news posts anymore because the site's been dysfunctional for a while. But today I will speak about dealing with death.
Not even a year ago we were just stuggling. Everything was so dark and miserable. We clung to hope for contentitude and stability for just a while longer. We pulled out of the fire and into the long road. But something was following us, wasn't it? The evil of life, and the cruelty of certainty.
Now there is nothing left. The road remains, untreaded, vanishing in the fog. I look behind me and I see nothingness. I look beside me and I see nothingness. I look ahead of me and I see nothingness.
These moments, the days of our lives, are held eternal in the last little bit of memory I have of the year. Between August 5th 2020 and July 23rd 2021 the absolute worst and darkest moments of my existence in this world have been lived. Now, as I await the impending finalle of my financial and housing crisis, I wonder if it was really worth it to have tried to live this life. The only thing I can do to try to validate the twenty-two years of digital content creation and near thirty years of analogue content creation is to put one foot in front of the other and seek validation in the most important final battle of them all.
Life is hell. Every moment is a moment held in suspense of tragedy or in the wake of tragedy. No longer can you consider such things tragic but merely the momentum of time. Death and suffering are inevitabilities, not happenstance. I am merely pussified by my dependance on others to find value in the day. Now that the others are gone I maybe have a few months left at most before disaster of an unparalleled magnitude strikes. I again ask if it was worth it to walk this path, to choose to try to do what I've tried to do all these years.
I hold nothing but contempt and regret for wasting my life trying to mod games. It has been an utter, absolute waste of time and I have nothing to show for it all. I don't regret my time with videos, be it in the 90s or in the last 10 years, but it is something I should have been able to be more consistent with. Knowing what I am, who I am, I suppose it was too much to ask for results of any worthwhile scale.
It's Christmas time. In the past, the cold helped me calm down, focus, and at least try to detox from a year. Now it is just as miserable as every other day of the year. A constant reminder of what has been lost.
I'll keep hammering the idiot button. It's all I know how to do. Until the day I die, I'll keep fighting for that dream lost in the fog. It's all I know how to do. When the sun sets on my time in this world, I'll not feel regret. I'll not feel fear. For, even though all of my personal ventures were failures, the most important thing I did set out to do was accomplished. I protected them until the end. I gave them happiness, love and life. Without me, they would never have survived so long, nor in such care.
My long watch is over, and winter has come. I do not fear the future, even knowing times are going to at the very least become even more difficult, as unimaginable as it may be. I don't have to worry about their future. Whatever happens to me, I have no reason to give a shit. I'll just try to focus on being productive with what I have left. That's what I want to do. That's all I know how to do.
I cannot change who I am. I cannot cool the fires or the hate or the anger or reflect more meaningfully on my time spent in this honk honk world. To do so is to become lost in that fog. I have things I want to finish. But I can't ask myself to finish them. I can't ask myself to make progress in them. All I can do is just keep moving forward. One step at a time. That's what life is. Every day is a challenge. Every day you are tested. Every quality of your person is put on trial. Every filament of your physical and mental abilities is pushed to its limit. Not even dreams are reprieve from the screaming and the tears. Nay. They, too, are a hell, and one you cannot even try to drown.
2020 changed me, and 2021 changed me again. I knew to ask myself to endure life without the lights of my life was to ask myself to walk a dark path. I'm not quite ready to fall just yet. I've let go, but I'm still looking ahead. I'm asking myself when does the fog turn to smoke. I'm asking myself how much longer until the weight becomes just a little bit heavier. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe tonight. Maybe I've already lost all sense of sight and feeling. It's hard to say.
Betrayal, death and homesickness. What an utter clusterfuck it has all been. Everywhere I look it's just the same old shit with a different bowtie. I tried to live the good life. Look at the now. Don't worry about what could, should, or would be. It's not an easy way to live. You need to be made of stern stuff. I'm not. 2017 hit me so hard my head is still spinning. I haven't even had the chance to grieve for July, yet. I may never. I don't have time to process it all. I'm still asking how the fuck this could even happen. I'm still reeling from August. I picked up their urns last night and my hands felt pain race through them. Did my body know what my mind hasn't accepted yet? Is it me jumping to correlation because arthritis is so bad these days? It made me think a long time about what this year represents to me, other than death. A change of mindset, perhaps.
I only want one thing in the world. Only a single thing. I can't ask for the things normal people have. I can't ask for the things I couldn't get in 20 years. But I can ask for one single thing that will give me peace of mind.
I want be buried with my cats when I die. That is my sole will and final testament.