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1It was a darkened day. It was the sort of darkness

that would envelop all creation, the sort of darkness thatcannot be overcome. It was the day that would be thelast day of one man's life. He carried on through hissuicidal binge long enough in this life. There was no pointfor the continuation of his existence.

A beacon of hope arrives on the horizon. It is a

little girl who cares. Is she to become this man'sguardian angel? Is she to whisk this man away to a

better life? Is she to prevent this oncoming atrocity?The glimmer of hope fades as the man takes some

more downers. The lower he gets the more he wants, inorder to create the ultimate low, until, ultimately, he will

be no more.The man's last hit, the hit that would have ended it

all was, unfortunately for him, interrupted by the bottle

being yanked from his hand. Someone in this world doesindeed. It was that little girl. She was indeed a guardianangel.

2It was the end of creation. The apocalypse was

upon us. Even with this end in sight, a person remained

hopeful. They walked about with a smile on their face.Did they not know of the impending doom? Were theymerely at peace with what was about to occur?

Angels swirled in the sky overhead as the personsmile grew larger and larger. It kept growing until it feltas if his face were going to actually tear off, and the painwould cause him to tear up, and he would no longer bethe happiest person at the end of existence.

Then this man awoke and realized that this worldwas not going to end. That brought a smile to his face,

until he saw the bloodied corpse to one side of him, andthe flashing lights outside of the building.



3I never realized that today would be the day that I

would die. At the same time, I never realized that itwould be an insignificant thing. I went ahead and

listened in on this devil playing his deadly tune into myear.

I never realized that today would be the day that Ialmost died. I felt my blood boiling; I never realized itwould be such a humongous ordeal. I went ahead andlistened in on this angel playing the harp of continuing

existence into my ears.I never realized today never actually happened for

me and that I was actually already dead. Hellfiresurrounded me and I felt myself suffering from nasty pins

and needles throughout my entire body. My entirety wassuffering and there was nothing I could do about it.

Clearly I must have sinned quite much to achieve such alevel of punishment.

"Ok," a voice interjected. "That is enough torture

for today. Perhaps we will get something out of himtomorrow."

4No matter how formulaic something seems, it

never goes according to the calculations. I plan for onething to happen, and, of course, the other thing will most

certainly happen. It was in these days that I turned mylife over to the bottle. It was in these days that I couldgive a fuck less what actually happened to me.

They were these days that were the beginning of the end for me. Nasty voices were going off in my head,the requiem for insanity and insomnia, something thatwas a new concept to me, and I often pulled knives out of my kitchen drawer, hoping simply that these voices would

shut the fuck up.It was from here that I realized that I would need

help. I instead just gave a blank stare to the bottle toone side of me, as the moon shined in through the

window, one of those special moon positions that had thecrimson hue that cast an image through my closed



window, giving the rubber bottle a crimson smile, invitingme to go ahead and just have a few more drinks.

5

A dark storm was developing. The coverage wastoo perfect, casting quite the dark shadows that woulddance about--monsters that were tantalizing those withdarkened souls. They were leading many souls down apath that would inevitably diverge from sanity andconverge on a world of insanity.

It was the day of broken dreams. It was potentiallythe end of the world for some. Nothing would go properly

for those that were giving in to these demonic swansongs, evil tunes that were luring people into an ever

darker lull.An even darker soul stood atop all this nonsense.

This soul was certain to find its place in the world amongall the other souls. It would certainly redefine a worldly

low, certainly would cause this world much more chaos,

and certainly would bring about the end of creation.These demons wanted a piece of this darkness, but

it was not something that this darkened soul was to part

with.

6Even in the darkest of times, I would always be

able to find something to motivate me to move forward. Iwould always be able to find something to allow me toremain upbeat.

It was just this time that was darker than mostother times. It was the sort of thing that was kind of likewatching your best friend get violated, then murdered. Itwas a dark time that created a chasm from which even Icould not escape.

My thoughts had formed an insane collective of downward-spiraling mentality that made it impossible for

me to make much physical progress--let alone allow meto show off any psychological prowess.

My world was indeed spiraling out of control, yet, atthe same time, it was actually stabilizing itself; it was just



finding its way to rock bottom.

7Under the cover of darkness, the wanderer found

his way to the gates of hell. He wanted to find a way toescape damnation, but instead had only found damnationitself. This was, of course, the perfect opportunity for himto infiltrate this foreign and hellish world and exorcize itof all its twisted denizens.

Unfortunately, this wanderer was soon to be

uncovered, and he would have to abandon this plan, thisblessed plan to liberate creation, and instead initiate a

plan of escape from the hell that is this world.Ultimately, this was the picture of a wanderer that

was either suicidal, homicidal, or both. It was a fuckedup painting of one's psyche that would allow the

blossoming of a newfound stream of thought, one wherefucked up ideas flow freely from a fucked up head.

Usually, this would make this person's ideas slow to

a crawl. He could stop his wandering and lay down andrest. But, today, the wanderer's mind was racing. Toomany thoughts coming from too many angles and too

many mental demons fighting with mental angels.Until the end, this wanderer will endeavor onward.

He will fight to create a blissful existence. He willcontinue on and learn to find a way to cope with this shit.

8Coping is crazy. Crap comes crawling around all

too much. Spiders squirm, some world's turn. All this to just make a buck to earn, but this bitch would need tofuck to earn.

Reality is eventuality and this eventuality led to thisbitch's cold reality. She felt awful, wanted out of here.

But unfortunately she was stuck here. There is nowhereto go from there. She can only continue the downward

journey in a world full of deceit and apathy.A woman's life. A girl's strife. Come on, put down

the knife. There are other ways to fight. A body isgenerated, one that is cold and laying there and making



such a mess of this girls house and now she just wants itout but can't find a way to let it out so all she can do ispout. Wow.

9Creativity is my mastery. I have a mastery of

creativity. I exercise simplicity. Simplicity is what Iexercise. I am the voice of this underpaid,underprivileged embarrassment we call creation. I amthat burning desire you see in this world that wants to

achieve but simply goes unnoticed. From that angle,perhaps I am you.

Nay, reader, of course I am not you. You are notthat lonely a soul. You are someone that wants to be

someone or have already achieved being someone. Youare nothing like me. Yet, at the same time, you are here

and ready to listen to my story.What are you? Sadistic? Masochistic? Moronic?

Or perhaps you are the endless string of descriptors I

could throw at you to make you go psychotic.Living is my misery. Misery is living. From this, we

are all technically the voices of misery. That is, until,

from this world, we decide to depart. Once, from thisworld, we exeunt, perhaps we will no longer be miserable.Or maybe we would be more miserable. I do not reallyhave any way to know. And I am pretty sure neither do

you.

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