The Day She Left

New Years Eve 2020

That was the day. The day she left. The day she decided the new me was not worth fighting for.

The new me is just the same old me. I pulled the curtain open. I showed her who I actually was. My mind took over recently. It’s my biggest quirk.

I’m too emotional.

When I’m feeling good things are great. It’s the in between that is the problem. I seem to only have one emotion available at a time.

The emotions are moods. The transition of which takes time. They can change suddenly without warning. I couldn’t imagine living with someone that doesn’t express different emotions without changing their mood.

She left emotionally. I’m going through the grief as we speak.

I was on the rise recently. I was feeling elated. We were leaving 2020 behind us. If only we could survive till the new year.

Could it be salvaged? Could she see that I could change for the better?

The changes recently were that I recognized my behavior. I recently recognized why. This recognition made me aware that I could control the behavior. Whether physical behavior or emotional behavior.

We need our own space.

We humans need space. We do not all have the same interests or priorities. To be in the same space isolated may as well be solitary confinement.

Both people may begin to resent the other for violating their alone time. So it seems in this sense being alone is the same as being permanently attached to one another.

I’m afraid. “That emotion”…

I hate it

That emotion is evil to the mind.

That’s why New Years eve is so important. It is the start of something new. A new year with resolutions. Changes you want to complete.

There is hope.

A hope that you can leave everything behind. To start over.

Will it work?

Moving out emotionally? Moving back in for the new year? This is the time to find out. The start of a new year. A new year in a new light.

A light that gives the hope this pandemic can become behind us.

“The pandemic?” You may ask.

Yes, the pandemic has changed us all in this world. This change has not only been in my home. It has been in every home and every mind in the world.

Some of our minds are more fragile than others.

My mind had soft spots. Other parts are hard as a rock. The hard parts are what makes me feel great about myself. My intelligence and intellect. My abilities to be able to troubleshoot, assess situations, and repair things. These abilities are more prevalent when repairing machinery or technology. With relationships and society? Not so much

To assess relationships and society as a whole is very complicated. Machines do not have moods although we say they do.

The mower is being crabby.

It isn’t crabby and it is easy to why the machine isn’t working right.

We as humans are animals. We have behave feelings and emotions. We are not always in tune with one another.

I’m optimistic .

I have hope. The hope that there can be a difference in the New Year. The hope that the world can be better. The hope that this pandemic has shown that we all have flaws. We are all vulnerable whether physically, mentally, or emotionally.

I would love .

I would love for her to see that the world can change and we all can be better.

The hope of love.

Those emotions…

I realize we don’t know what will happen in the New Year. We can, If we allow it, recognize that it is happening. When we are aware of the problem we are able to control it.

Hope everyone has a Happy New Year.

New Years Day 2021

That was the day. The day the world changed.

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Into The Future Of The Now…

Today is the start of my future. My future life on the journey of self improvement. Not your typical new years resolutions. It is another color change of the life of another color.

I look forward to starting a work and family life balance. The beginning of ignoring the stressors in my current life. To do what I want to do. The demands of life are not as complicated as society may make you believe.

My mind has always been more relaxed when I think about improving the future. A more efficient world without the burden of the stress others tend to bring.

My concept of this future stems from a question posed from “IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE ” What would the world be like without you? I reflected on the death of people I’ve known. Life goes on. The stresses of life can no longer be able to be placed on them.

What if they were alive and did not allow themselves to receive the stress. Life could go on. Somebody else would be forced to reckon with the worry instead.

This is how I see myself in my future. A balance of me, my life, and what I want for myself. I could and should be concerned about myself, because without me life would not exist at all.

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Now Streaming

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You should write a book…

You should write a book they tell me. I always talk about writing that book. The greatest story ever told. That would be an impossible task.

It’s been 5 years between posts.

Why is that? Because a had stability. Not perfect. I’ve had my problems. I worked on them. The problems that is .

I always want to finish the tasks I’ve put on the back burner. I try to make the finished product perfect. Much like the perfect image in my mind.

My book would have to be perfect. A masterpiece. Much like the works of Shakespeare, or is it Francis Bacon. I’ve never read Shakespeare, but it seems I’ve been living out the life of his characters.

I’m easily influenced by my surroundings. The movies I watch, the songs I hear, the books I read. I am a hypochondriac. My senses are too sensitive it seems. Of course this is my self diagnosis. It is obvious I am a hypochondriac though. Whatever I feel I need to check my symptoms. I also hate to see doctors. I hate outdoor spaces. I am a germophobe.

People think I am making this stuff up. No, I really am afraid of everything. They say I don’t always wash my hands. If I washed my hands every time I felt I needed to my hands would be raw. The rate I wash my hands now is quite excessive as it is. My hands are dry and cracking already. I need to wrap my hands in the winter already. This coronavirus has put me into hyper panic.

Is that even a word?

I don’t know but it should be at least. That’s what I feel.

There are so many paths for my book it is so hard to keep track of the story. Each and every story is important to me. They are the stories that make up me.

I’m a story teller. I’ve wanted to be a song writer. It’s seems all the good songs have already been written. I’ve listened to so many different types.

Whenever I hear a song I love I find my source of inspiration. The song I was thinking of writing. The notes. The words.

Is that why I write?

I don’t know. There are many reasons I want to. Is the writing a way to deal with my problems when alone. A way to deal with my phobias. Definitely.

That’s one reason. The problems. There are so many I could write a book. The pick your adventures book of life. Because I have lived many lives. I have many personalities. Literally. They all answer to my name. When I tell my stories its better when I don’t say who I am. Those stories are unedited. They are the whole truth. My secrets.

My secrets can probably be relatable to a large mass of readers or listeners. It’s hard though to not put off the other followers or fans if you will.

The ghost writer. Many great writers have used them and changed the name I don’t see why I couldn’t either. Which leads us back to bacon. Francis Bacon that is.

Live Life Love Bacon. Catchy title I thought. A website with articles that all related back to Bacon. Yum, Bacon. Deep thinking and bacon bits. I lost the website name I created. I made it as a .com. No biggie, Noone really enters the web address anyway. There are so many different addresses that you would go broke buying all the .net .biz .org names.

So should I make the website. Too late it’s already made. Just a different name for now. A .com is not ready yet. Maybe it never will.

Should I change my name?

I wouldn’t do that just for a gimmick or publicity. I already try to make my stories I up as my real life. I try to act out that story just so I may say based on real events.

What about the real events?

The real events are as amazing as the fiction. It truly is hard for me to know the difference.

There is a very thin line between the life and fantasy. Something Hamlet, Shakespeare or Francis Bacon may have already contemplated and written. Is it the timing. Is Shakespeare known to be so talented because of when he wrote the plays, the works. The works of art.

What if it was me?

These are the same things I think of everyday, every hour, every minute, morning, noon, and night.

Which leads me to back to Bacon. It’s all in my family tree. Bacon is one of my family’s surnames. I’ve researched to no end. So many twists and turns. Each life of an ancestor becomes my obsession. I want to know it all. Every detail of that person.

My family tree is full of lies though. The lies of past researchers. Lies of the families I researched. Those tales they have told. Nobody knows who made who. We have one way now. DNA. The use of DNA is still a bit sketchy in genealogy though. It doesn’t give you a straight answer.

Which leads me back to my book.

Straight answers. I am having artists create a graphic for me. Perhaps this will be in my book. If even that book is only a picture book.

The pictures would eventually lead back to Bacon. Now for the title.

“The Cookbook of Life” , “Painting The Wall of Life “, “The Battle Between Good Vs Evil. The War Within Yourself ” Hmm

Has to be unique. As unique as the author.

My time is up now. I have to get back to painting. Painting the wall of life within my mind. With embellishments by Chuck Rozell.

Live Life Love Bacon

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O, Brother

Oh brother where art though. There is a reason why I don’t read the Bible. The stories are too scary for me. They are meant to scare you so you behave.

In the New Testament Jesus is born as the son of God. He dies. He rises only to die again. My little brother is much like my own son. In my mind I practically raised him. I always knew he looked up to me. Kind of like a God at times. I was sorry to let him down that the image he had of me was not the best.

“Be the best version of yourself ” That is what I was told. Celebrating the life of my brother, I am told that he wanted me to be my best version. I don’t believe he would ever say such nonsense. The preacher went on to say the same thing in a sermon. This person was repeating something the preacher said to her.

Its funny how people can be manipulated by things they are told or read. They think that they are their own thoughts and ideas. They are not. Someone, a bird perhaps, put that bug in your ear.

It took me a year to reflect on my life and that of my brother. I think its time to let the emotions out. Even if I am the only person who sees this.

I had to go back and recall all the times we had been together. I can’t possibly remember them all or care to.

Sometimes I think people think I owe my brother something because he helped me out when I was down. For the record this couldn’t be farther from the truth. Me and my brother were a lot alike. We were almost like twins. We helped each other. Always, no matter what.

He wouldn’t want me to be one version of myself. That would be boring. He was many different characters himself. We were a duo. A team.

Truth is anything I did he did also at some point in his life. So I know we don’t owe each other anything. Except I owe him a tribute. I can’t begin to finish his car. I can’t finish my own. So I wanted to write a little story about us after a long career together.

The comedy duo of Charlie and Willie.

I think the joke was always on someone else. Me and my brother always knew what the other was thinking just by an expression. Sometimes we used that power as a way to setup someone for a “funny”.

A joke is always better when someone is in on the joke. Who can you trust though? Who is going to spoil it? Brothers live by a code. You don’t turn a Brother in. You help a Brother out.

Shortly before Willie passed I thought to myself, What would I do if he died? How would I react?

I got that answer. Nothing… I knew it was going to happen. He knew it was going to happen.

I told him one time that someone I truly love had a stroke or heart attack. He said that is what she gets for drinking and smoking. Needless to say I was offended. He drank and smoked. So he knew the consequences.

So now, was he playing a joke on me? Nobody knows except God and we didn’t grow up on religion. It was always a eyeball roller moment between us. God.

Not many people even noticed his final bow. The final joke of his career. He had one request. “Play the Asshole song by Dennis Leary.” It was played twice Once at the beginning and once at the end of the service. Not many took notice. They were too busy grieving or weren’t there at the beginning or the end. Except for those of us who were in on it.

“It was hilarious little brother.”

Now, where do we go from here? Do I go out and find another partner? Who could fill those shoes? They are way too big and his feet stunk.

I think I’ll have to go out on my own for a while. Until I am able to train the next generation of Rozell blood.

So that’s my tribute I guess.

I always wondered, Who would be there to pick me up? I realize I can pick myself up. No help needed.

I don’t want to make this too long. There’s a lot that I can say but like a balloon I need to release my tribute.

Much like Willie’s tattoo. I thought was a vulture, he said it was an eagle,perhaps its a Phoenix and he will rise again.

Born December 10th, Died December 22nd. I guess I’ll see you on Christmas.

Till then I’ll have some deep thinking and bacon bits. Willie loved bacon a little too much I guess and blew his heart to bits.

Jesus Christ, I’m an asshole too.

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The Sense of Light

The sun it rises.
I stand still.
My eyes are closed
Yet I can see its glow.
The birds awaken with a familiar call.
I can smell the dew coming off the leaves as they reach toward the sky.
I feel the warmth as the rays touch my face.
Every minute the light gets stronger.
As I open my eyes I forget about all of the darkness.
All that remains is in my shadow.

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To Hell And Back To The Blackness – Part 2

Continued from Part 1 To Hell and Back to the Blackness

I sit at home contemplating once again my next move to solve the oddities going on before me. The home that was once filled with life and activity now feels as if it is a tomb. One which is without love. It is only a resting place. A stopover of life and death. No visitors come by. Their efforts to save me failed. They cared enough to try to save me just as I had with many others.

My own attempts to be a savior were met with hostility for I seen the behaviors nobody else had. They may have seen the truth but turned a blind eye to the facts. The reasons for my endeavors may have been a selfish cause. My hope that I would be pardoned for all the wrong doing of my past. To be blamed for another’s actions especially when they won’t help themselves is a great weight to carry. The best solution ,to keep your own dignity intact, could be just walking away and announcing “I’m done!” Even if those words are only heard by you.

Needless to say I had to leave the home that housed memories which caused my own demise. Without my vehicle to take me on my way I decide to take the next train out of this town.

I pack my bags wanting to be better prepared than before. Does a ghost need belongings? All indications show that if you are prepared you may survive to get a chance back at life.

I open the door to the outside world. The sun is beating down on the earth. This may be a test of my fortitude. I look inside once again to think of anything I may have forgotten. I slam the door and walk by the car which has been hobbled. I can’t convince myself to remain here. An anniversary is fast approaching. One that I don’t want to be here for.    

Before I leave I stop at the restaurant across from the local station. The temperature is stifling inside. It feels like the entrance to Hell and perhaps it was. A designated pit stop before the eternal torture.

I order the lunch special. As I eat I am watching the news. I see that a plane had crashed. I begin to recall the terror alert that was broadcast a few days earlier. It was also amid an uprising in Egypt. Then I hear sirens. I am not sure if the emergency is real or not. I have been hearing sirens almost constantly since the alert.

I look at my phone and realize in my haste I had not given my device a full charge. I politely ask to use an outlet to charge my phone in the wall outlet near a table I am sitting at. The lone server gives me a quick “No”. I don’t argue. I never win. The saga of the need for energy is continued.

The events are wearing away the little sanity I may have left. I step outside and look towards the horizon. It has a blood red hue. Up in the sky I see the contrails of jets that have passed. The time may have come where good and evil clash in a final battle.

I hurry towards the depot where a train should arrive soon. An announcement is made over the loudspeaker that switch problems in Barrington will delay outbound traffic from Chicago. How long of a delay is unknown at this time.

In my head I conjure images of a terrorist group destroying transportation lines. Is this switch problem a deliberate occurrence. The rail lines are not policed. Then I begin to believe it is all part of an emergency preparedness drill. That idea calms me enough to head towards a large major city with a possible terror attack.

More announcements are broadcast at the station. More delays and more apologies are given. Time passes by and there is not much to do but wait. As I wait I look around. Everyone looks oblivious to the clues. Are they actually clues or figments of my over active imagination? My need to rationalize as if I am a soldier in this war to save humanity.

In the distance the sound of bells are heard. The familiar noise is from railroad crossings to alert traffic of a trains presence. The locomotive blares its horn.


The crowd that has developed erupts in excitement. Some are here awaiting the arrival of friends and family. Perhaps for a visit that has been shortened by fate or maybe it was all part of a plan written out long ago. Either way everyone is let out and they go about their business.

The trains begin to come in but none of them are leaving even though the first is over an hour late. I look west where the trains turn around onto the inbound rail. Finally I see the single headlamp of a train approach. Slowly it comes to rest in front of the awaiting passengers. The doors remain closed. A restless bunch of travelers stand at the doors much like sheep.

I wonder “Are we all heading to slaughter?”.

10 minutes later the doors open. Two men dressed all in black step out and the crowd boards this train of possible doom. I am hesitant to go with but I am not going all the way to Chicago. I also enter carrying with me my baggage. I am more prepared than my last journey. It is obvious my journey has yet to end.

I know I need to charge my phone. I ask a conductor “Do you know where an outlet is?”. He quickly answers “There should be one in the front car. Follow me.” We go through several cars to a seat that is empty. He points to the outlet as though the seat was reserved for me. There are very few receptacles on these trains. Before he leaves I reply “Thank you, Thank you very much.”.

That saying “Thank you, Thank you very much.”. It is short and a common form of etiquette but I learned that when you are in this state of being between worlds it is required. Otherwise you will fail the tests. If you fail them the consequences are not known since no one has returned from that judgement.

I plug in my phone. I don’t want to broadcast my whereabouts in case the enemy is tracking cellular communication. “I did say enemy didn’t I ?” That is because I have accepted the notion that I am a ghost and a warrior. For which side I have yet to figure out.

What was the meaning for this story? I can no longer remember. How long was I wandering? Days or weeks perhaps months. Truth is the madness ended quicker than it had started. It has all become jumbled. No longer do I know what is the beginning, the middle or if it is at the end.

I open my eyes awakened by the sound of voices. I see clouds but they are not real. They are painted on a light fixture. A woman is sitting in the corner. I forget her name but I ask her “Where are you from, California perhaps?
Her voice is comforting as she replies “No, I’m from Florida.”
I look back at the fake sky above me. I repeat what comes to me in my current state of mind. “Ah, white sandy beaches.”

A man slides open the glass door. I ask why he was here. He says he was there to evaluate me mentally. As he tells me this I remember the questioning when I was brought into the room as they tried to draw my blood. They apparently wanted to know if I could give answers to what should be known to me. My address, birth date, astrology sign, who the president is.

Have I told this story already? The clouds above me reflect the clouded memories I have of life. His questioning bothers me. Is he trying to test me or am I going to try to test him? If I don’t pass will they transfer me to a different room? One that has padded walls which you see in movies.

He asks me if I see things that are not there? How can I answer? I believe what I see is real but I am not sure if anything is real anymore. I tell him no just as I see a man who looks as if he was dressed as a doctor but he was hunched over at his age I couldn’t see him practicing medicine. I don’t mention the man just in case he was a figment of my imagination.

He asks about smells. Truth is I’ve been smelling a stench around the town that to me was the scent of death. I again just keep this to myself. I know the symptoms of psychosis and I don’t want to have that label. The smells can be explained for I have smelled them as vagrants have passed me.

He walks out of the room and then back in. I ask him who he is? I think the hospital is trying to trick me by bringing someone who just looks like the same man in to ask me more questions. He is getting aggravated as he flashes his badge once again.

He asks me what I want to do. I tell him I want to leave. I don’t have time to stay in these confines. I need to go.
He leaves once more and I drift to sleep.

My sleep is disturbed and I don’t know how much time has passed. My ribs hurt anytime I move. The reason I came here in the first place is evident. I crashed. The pain of which woke me from my delirium earlier in the day. How was I a ghost if I felt that much pain? My mind convinced me I was dead and then it convinced me I was crazy. Now maybe I am both. How is that for a combination?

I lay here in my hospital bed. The lights are out and I can only see a small amount of activity through the opening of the curtain that is hanging across the door. A security guard stands by. Who is he protecting? Me from them or them from me? He may just be protecting me from myself.

I hear a call come through his radio. He listens, waits and slowly responds. This goes on for over a minute but he keeps his post. I figure I will be here for a while. They have been able to cage me and it may take a matter of wits for me to be free again. I drift back asleep. Sleep while you can I always say.

Is this a dream or have I awoken from my dream?

The stores are filled with shoppers. School days are upon us. There is a rush for supplies. So it seems the objective is to outfit the children with the materials at hand. There are others in the store today. They are equipping themselves for the end of days. Outside you can hear the roar of the traffic. The engines can be heard for miles. Then they pull into the parking lot. There is an urgency about them. They must know of the impending battle.

Those who have been chosen have a walk that is like no other. They are quicker than the rest of those within. I watch as if I am in slow motion. I try to not be seen for I cannot know which side they are on. At the front of the cash registers hang signs “Don’t forget the ice” even the store knows how hot the hell on earth will be. I see it as a sign someone can still have some humor within.

I quickly get what I need and pack my bags carefully. I only want to bring what I really can use. The others are able to fill their vehicles but I can only carry my supplies on my back.

I am ready now but where do I go from here? I have not received any special instructions as of late. I recite what I was told. Don’t look up, look down. Never talk first. When you see another like you just nod your head. The rest of the human race walk about as if they are zombies. Staring at their electronic devices nearly being run over.

As I stand outside I hear a little voice.
“Really, you actually think the world is coming to an end? I think you are being quite delusional. A bit paranoid too.”
That was what I thought also. How else can these things be explained? The police have been giving me most of my information. Then something dawns on me. One of the officers had said that I was not understanding what I was being told.

That is it for me I should just forget about this false mission and return home. The heat must be killing my brain. I start a walk back to the rail line to fly me back to where I started.

As I walk a man I’ve never seen before yells “Hey , boss man. How’s it going?”
I shake his hand and somewhat puzzled ask “Boss Man?”
He just says “You’re the one who signs the checks.”

I keep walking. I feel heat as I walk past one of the buildings. Is this the remnants of a fire long ago? Those that are gathering inside are they the victims of this past catastrophe reliving that fateful day? I’ve noticed that my senses have become heightened. This only adds to my mania.

I see in the distance a giant flag waving  slowly in the breeze. I stare at the flag never moving my eyes. I see for the first time how a flag actually moves.
It is more subtle of a movement than I would have ever imagined. Then again I’ve never focused on a single object for this long before. Whatever comes of this journey I know that I have been given a true gift. I’ve been given the ability to stop and focus. To accept the beauty around me even in seemingly mundane things.

The sun is finally setting. The bells and whistles of the train signal its approach. I assume I will get back on and head for home. Even if it means being there for an Un-anniversary.

Hmm.. What happened that day? I can never remember exactly. I think back and the memories are missing. Have they been blocked, erased or what? I think if I am around this day I will see what my fate truly was. I may see my own name chiseled in stone and ending with a year for my death. If this is what I see I can assume I would have to accept it.

Do I dare?

At one time in my life I had the belief that I was intelligent. Now it seems as if my brain was taken and replaced with one of an inferior being. I can see that happening. An alien race studying humans here on earth. They seen my abilities and were in awe . How was one man capable of all my achievements? Those days are gone and I remember very little of the past.

Perhaps it was all a lie. Do I believe everything I am told? I think so. It could be that I misconstrued everything anyone had ever said to me. Imagine that a life full of fiction. It seems my mind has never matured. Apparently I live without the ability to determine fact or fiction. It is stuck in a loop. A loop of only potential without success. Much like a child.

Is this really a terrible trait? To think like a child. Children are full of wonder. They have the power of imagination. At what point in time does the magic end and reality begin?

I seem to be on this fine line of what is real and what is imagined. The truth may be that I would rather imagine that nothing has ever been real. Is it possible to have a fresh start in the middle of life when there is a past. The only way that would be possible would be to be born again.

On that note…  I think I was in the middle of telling a story. Is it fact, fiction, or delusions of a damaged reality?

It is obvious I haven’t been born again. I am here on this anniversary outside of the iron fence which holds the dead. I stand alone avoiding the past. I am being haunted by days gone by. It occurs to me that I shouldn’t be walking but running. Running away from the cemetery which is bound to hold my remains and the remains of another day.

I am faced with a choice. As simple as it may seem. I can’t go through with it. Not now, and I may never. If I enter those gates I may not come back. I may have to remain there in the blackness if I do.

The left side of my brain is being held hostage. Terrorists within my skull have taken it captive. There isn’t any logical thinking going on at this point. Fear has taken over. It is keeping me away from the prospect of solving my fate.

My memories seem to come and go. When they do come back I am compelled to force them out of consciousness. Never wanting to remember the torment I’ve been through. Whether it was an action of mine or that of another. Those memories just bring a deluge of thought. Thoughts of what was, wasn’t, could have or should have been.

What I want this day is to escape. I want to just go away and dream. To dream a dream and end the nightmare. Even if it is all a nightmare of my own doing.

I pass the gates. As I do I see a woman walking along a path shadowed from the sun by the great oak trees that rise up towards the light. They have no fear reaching out to the unknown. Is it the warmth they seek? Much like the warmth of a mother’s arms. Is this woman a mother looking for a child she once held, or a lover that once held her swearing to never let go? I will never know for I must go too.

I look up at the trees with their branches blowing in the wind. They have weathered many storms but still stand strong. My conflicts are small in comparison to what they’ve been through. Then again a tree can’t think. As far as I know it can just be. Another strong wind blows taking with it a few leaves as they flutter to the ground. Seems to be just another day in the life of a tree.

What will the rest of the day bring me? Is there still some hope left in that box? That box little Pandora opened releasing all the evils into the world. She was able to shut that lid. Keeping inside just that one spirit. The spirit of hope. That could be the one and only thing that keeps us in this world…. Hope

I must go and forget this place. I should probably just leave forgetting every place I’ve been. They all hold some memory. Memories of happiness, sadness, and fragments of a future that would never be told.

I have with me a few trinkets. A few objects that I fear are cursed. I carry them with me to give away or trade to an unsuspecting soul. These items have magic within but the magic turns to black. As black and absent as death itself.

Speaking of Death, Who is that man I keep seeing dressed in black? The one I see around every corner. He doesn’t look like a reaper as portrayed in lore, he is there though. I see him walking in the darkness. Nobody seems to take notice. How am I the only one? Is he here to gather an army? An army for the battle I’ve been foretelling.

I hear that familiar little voice again.
“Really, a battle? The battle is all in your mind. It is just a war within yourself. People really do care about you.”

Who is that? Is she the voice of reason or is it once again someone above my bed as I lie in a coma. It is as confusing to me as it must be to you.

If he is a reaper I will not fear him. I will let him take me away. For this fate seems to be worse than death.

If you had the ability to save yourself at the end of civilization as we know it would you? Would you stand up and fight even if it would likely take you away from those closest to you? Or would you accept whatever fate chosen by the powers that be rather than be taken from those you love? Valid questions and they have been answered many times in the past. The truth is when the time comes the answers seem to change. Many times when under attack a human will just surrender and/or switch sides just to save themselves no matter what their convictions are.

The rain is beginning to fall in the distance. It is time to seek shelter. For how many days will the rains come is unknown to me. What is hidden behind those clouds? The warning went out to the public. The commercials have been broadcast. “Do you have your emergency preparedness kit?” You may have laughed but there is a reason. Now we shall see just who will survive.

A diner with a sign emitting its neon glow will provide a temporary shelter. I enter and sit at the counter. I link to the wi-fi connection to download my data to begin my analysis. I pay for my coffee and sit for a time. I am quiet watching as everyone gets served. I sit as if I didn’t exist. I wait patiently for a refill of my cup that never gets filled.

The manager doesn’t seem to enjoy my presence even though I’ve been here on many occasions in the past. I get a bowl of soup and he tells me I must leave as soon as I am done. What side is this man on anyway? Better yet what side am I on?

The skies clear and I finish the soup giving me the protein I need to prepare myself for my next adventure. I walk outside with a fear of what could have been let loose upon the people of earth. Was that the first of a series of chemical attacks? This all seems like déjà vu. 

The pavement is soaked. The setting sun peeks out. I switch directions on my current journey. I feel as if I am being followed. I push up my pace.
The government must be tracking me.  I’ve seen them follow me from the sky for weeks. When I looked up other agents told me to keep my eyes down. They obviously knew of my power.

Is this part of my test?

They have tested me in the past. This must be what my life’s training has been for. Every message I’ve sent out seems to have been censored. All in a plan to distance everyone from me. All so they wouldn’t care if I was gone.

It is starting to make sense now. As a child I was brought to a school. I was tested constantly. I finished the entire curriculum with amazing speed. It was as if I wrote the entire program myself. Did I write it whether in the past or even the future? Do I have the power of time travel? Is it part of my DNA? Am I part of a secret society started by my ancestors who founded the United States? You never know.

Time after time the government tried to recruit me. Then I finally caved in. I became a part of an elite group. We were “Psy Warriors”.

Now it must be time for me to use the powers I was born with. Would anyone believe me if I told them? I think not. I am borderline crazy and I have a hard time thinking it is the truth.

It’s been 7 years since I unleashed one of the powers within me. What happened that day? My daughter, who meant the world to me, died in my arms. It started out with her just playing, as all children do. Then I took my eyes off of her. She climbed to top of our stairs. She decided she wanted to take a ride down the stairs in a suitcase. I hear the crash at the end of the wild ride. I rush to where she was laying. I went to pick her up and felt her back and it was broken. Her eyes rolled back in her head. She stopped breathing.

There was an ensuing yell. A yell from within that the world must have all heard. I would gladly have changed places with her in an instant. Without her I would be nothing. Existence would have no point.

Then she came back to life. Her back was instantly healed. She jumped up and started walking as if nothing had happened.

As crazy as it may sound I forced my energy upon her bringing her back from the blackness. It wasn’t until now that i understand. When I died myself I became more than just energy. I was pure energy. I was able to project my energy. Whether it was an image of myself miles away or pulses into space damaging satellites in orbit. Even the power to heal my own broken back after being run over by a car.

So now you know why the government would want me on their side. The ability to become pure energy and be immortal is quite a power to reckon with. The flip side is I am not the only one.

“Where are you headed to now?” Says the voice from the unknown.

I have nothing to say. I am no closer to knowing the answer today than I was yesterday.

I only hear my footsteps as I walk. My feet seem to be pounding on the pavement with each step. They echo with the reverberation of a familiar emptiness. What good are the experiences of life without anyone to share them with? Where are we headed to anyway?

Just when I think I am alone. I hear another sound. The noise up above is that plane once again. I’ve seen it tracking my whereabouts on several occasions. What data are they collecting on me? I don’t know nor do I care anymore. I’m told time and again that I’m obsolete. What else is there to know? Can’t be anything new.

This story I keep trying to tell has been written so many times in the past. It has been heard over and over again. It begins to bore me.  Ever since I’ve come back to reality the story has gotten more dull each day.

Which brings me to another question. Exactly what is reality? How can reality be proven? Is there a reality test?

In my recent experiences I’ve been told I’ve been creating things out of thin air. Those who tell me these things pick and choose what they say is real even though they didn’t experience it with me.

There are a number of possibilities that could explain things.
1. I’ve just misunderstood everything that has happened to me.
2. Everyone misunderstands what I say or do.
3. I have been possessed.
4. I have a mental disorder and everything is a delusion.
5. I’ve been moving in and out of different worlds. Interacting with counterparts of different Earths.
Or maybe, just maybe, everything I say actually is true.

Let me delve a little into the alternate universe theory for a moment. It seems to explain a lot of things more clearly for me.

At several points in my journey I was asked by passerby’s ” Why were you throwing yourself to the ground?” I knew then as I do now that I had not thrown myself to the ground. It seems this is what is seen as I transferred between worlds.

In some worlds I was contacted by people who knew me. The conversations between them and me were fragmented and full of misunderstanding. The reasons are obvious if they were used to speaking to a different me. One who was similar to myself but not exact. I wonder if these alternate images of myself have come into my world. They may be the cause of the havoc for myself.

Then there were some sub-characters who were not well known to me. There were some who knew me and I didn’t know them. It is possible some enter and exit worlds the same as me or they exist in all the universes as the same but different person.

One example was when I stopped at my former place of employment. It had been 4 years since I had worked there and much had changed since that time. I began a conversation with an old associate who I worked on a daily basis for years. This man did not remember anything about me and denied the fact I ever worked there even though I had for 14 years. Did he forget who I was or did I not work at the same place on that earth.

I do know that I am in my original world now. It is all too familiar. This is where I began my life. This is where I belong. Is this where my life will end? There is the possibility that there is no end.

There we go again. Philosophizing about the possibilities of life, existence, the known, and the unknown. The dilemma with this way of thinking is everything is in the unknown. How can anything be proven when the thoughts which exist as a way to try to explain everything conclude that anything is possible? 

Now for a little clarity in my ranting. There has been an increase in certain so called illnesses which affect the brain and our “normal” way of thought. Such as Autism, OCD, ADD, depression, mania, dissociative disorder, schizoaffective disorder the list goes on. To me science will have to evolve as the human brain evolves. Modern science treats anything that is different as a disease. Drugs are created to stop the thought processes of those who are called mentally ill. I can only imagine that in time when the majority of the population shifts with these “illnesses” those who are now considered “normal” will be the ones labeled as having an illness. The human mind will have evolved just as the human body has evolved.

The unexplained may finally become explained when those capable of thinking along these lines become numerous. The philosophies would be acceptable when there is an increase of similar experiences. It is my belief we are all born with the potential of craziness. It is just a matter of how or when it manifests. There may be no signs or symptoms in specific environments. The trigger remaining hidden.

With that said. I return to the walk back to the search for more information whether it is on this earth or another. If not I may find the answers within a dream. The unexplainable may become explained in a dream. The dream world being the ultimate free thinking tool. A tool with which there is no consequence of experimentations. Now just how does one record a dream before the conscious mind changes the message or is forgotten? Just think of the amount of lost breakthroughs that have been lost in the chaotic dream realm.

If I had a choice in my dreams I wouldn’t be walking but flying. Flying high above never being noticed by those below me. They never look up unless there is a sound or they think they are being tracked. That is just crazy talk though.

I looked up as I so often do. A streak of light illuminates the sky. I made a wish. Even though wishes don’t always come true. If this one comes to fruition only time will tell.

“What was your wish?” I’m asked by an inquisitive soul. That soul who lives in the recesses of my mind. The lone voice willing to speak to me.

I contemplate whether I should reveal that wish. If I do will it not come true?

I answer anyway, “I wished I was a bird. So I could fly far far away.”

It wasn’t an original wish and I stole it from a movie, but it was my wish none the less. I’ve been wishing this wish for my whole life. I’ve come close but it was only in my dreams.

How else is one to fly? It seems to be a hopeless wish. The wish to defy gravity. To soar through the wind and into the castles made of clouds. To fly high into the heavens.

I’ll have to wait to see what the future shall bring. For now I am stuck on solid ground. I feel the weight of my being pulling me towards the center of the earth as I walk along the path I have chosen.

Did I choose this path, or was it chosen for me? It is an age old question which no one person holds the answer to.

I’ve begun to look at life as a maze. There is a beginning and an end. There are many choices and obstacles within. No matter the direction you take there is only one final destination. It would be all to simple to fly up and see the clearest route to take.

Like those before me I walk along this rugged path with the notion that fate is on my side and the stars above to guide me.

I see a glow emanating from a crater in the ground. That falling star must have crashed closer than I could have imagined. Always curious I head toward the light. When I look down I see what appears to be the form of an angel. It seems that even an angel can’t always fly right.

The angel’s wings are battered. I ask what happened. She tells me she has been watching me. She has been flying above me this whole time. The form I’ve seen was the form I created in my mind. Whether it was a bird, a plane, or even a butterfly. This instance it was a shooting star and I had brought her down with my single wish.

She told me she can take me away. She can grant me this one wish. To fly far far away. In doing so there would be no hope of ever coming back or I can continue on my way to play out the story to the end.

She reminded me my soul was pure. The evils in the world sent me on the path I was on. Everything I see is not always what it seems or even what it is meant to be. It sounds familiar. I’ve heard this before apparently for good reason.

I decline the offer. I take back my wish. I accept my fate. Some wishes are granted to let you see what is possible. They may not always last for it isn’t part of the destiny. It is up to your willingness to accept the facts and reality for more wishes and dreams to come true.

With that in mind I leave with some comfort there is someone following me and that I am never alone. I come to another crossroads just as I had many times before. One path is brightly lit and the other is cast in darkness. Whether I chose it or it was chosen for me I take the step. The step back into the blackness.

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Is It Over?

Is it over?
Is it just the beginning?

Another life.
Another lesson learned.

Should I rush?
Should I take it in stride?

Looking forward to what’s ahead.
Looking back at what’s been done.

The steps to move on.
The quagmire of standing idle.

A bountiful future.
A forlorn past.

My mind has been misguided.
My heart has been deceived.

I have feelings of hope.
I have desires for change.

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How can I express myself with so many eyes upon me?

Can I ever be me?

Criticism is around every corner. Opinions thrown at me at random. I have nobody to impress. Let them say what they will.

I will not change myself for any one. Though I may evolve. I will not be bound by another’s expectations.

Picture a caterpillar climbing the tree of life. Exposed to all the dangers around him. He hides for a time within his cocoon to shield him. Till it is ready to venture out into this world. To fly high and be free. To transform into his true self.

What are these feelings I have inside? Is it love or the prospect of being able to be myself? To show my colors boldly. Never having to hide. Never having to lie.

This is who I am. Take it or leave it. What you see is what you get. All the genius. All the quirks. Full of love. Full of pain.

Once again I make a draft. I create a thought. Incomplete as it may be. I press the button to release it out into the universe. Let it be said. Sooner or later it will return to me.

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Cold Winds Blown Out of Proportion

In the midst of my walk through the bitter cold, whose wind still penetrated my five layers of clothing, I mentally dictated my pondering. My thoughts and questions are recited for only me to hear.

Now today is another day. I have slept and have awoken this morning desperately trying to recoup those words which at the time seemed to have so much meaning.

The memories slowly come back. Those grand thoughts seem to not have the same luster they once did. My bout of creative genius and divine poetry, which was sure to captivate all of whom came in contact, has surely been lost to the ether. Once again the brilliance is cast off into the universe.

I hide behind words on a page. I only show what I want to be seen or heard. Expressing oneself through writing is fraught with danger. Once it is written it can’t be undone after it has been read. It is a consequence no amount of editing can resolve. Conversations can often be forgotten. The written word is often read again and again. It is analyzed and criticized. It may be skewed to benefit the reader. Their own thoughts interfering with its true meaning.

I contemplate how much control we have in this game called life. Are we in charge of our destiny or does everyone around us decide our fate?
I may be repeating myself here. My revelations are a constant repetition.

After reading a simple text I myself may tend to over analyze its contents. I may find the hidden agenda in the process. Is all that has been said and done before those words suddenly cast off into the void. These may be the effects of the human psyche wanting to find an answer without taking the courage to just ask a question which would give the truth.

So some of us sit and contemplate our fate. We want to hold onto that little something that we had. Does it make us weak or are we hopeless dreamers?

I guess I’ll go back to my original thoughts. The thoughts in the cold dead of night. The thoughts of who I am. Though you seem to think I have some type of experience. That experience is I tend to want what I can’t have. The harder it is to achieve the more I want it.

The more I live the more I believe of a higher power wanting to make life a challenge for me.

These are just some of the words I share. The rest remain hidden. Locked away in hopes of another day.

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