My Boulevard of Broken Dreams

So for the better part of my evening last night I spent my time creating wrestlers on my WWE 2k18 game, after somehow losing my data (I’m not bitter Sony…). Let me tell you, it’s a time consuming process when you’re trying to create your own fantasy promotion. Here’s a few pics of the chick I created.

I named her Sophia Riley. She’s a British punk rock warrior. I’m proud of this creation and currently working on her background. But sometime between deciding how big Sophia’s ass should be and making a move list that didn’t make her overpowered as hell….

I was lamenting. Over shit that I have no power over. Go figure huh? My tragic little writer’s brain was working in overtime. I’ve been on another creative binge. I should be happy about it. I’m creating my own world and making it as detailed as possible without having to worry about what others think. But I have no one to share any of it with. Yes, I do have friends that support my writing and try to offer help whenever I need it. But I feel like I can’t share everything with them. I’ve mentioned this before, there aren’t a lot of people who are on the same wavelength as me. Not since that one friend from long ago.

I started to feel lonely. Then angry. And bitter. Earlier yesterday I felt jealous of others who have no problems with connecting with people, keeping friends close, having everything they want, and doing whatever they’d like without anything holding them back. But then I remind myself that it’s better this way. How much happier would I be conforming to something? Especially when the majority of the human race repulses me on a chemical level.

In fact the more that I’m thinking back on it the louder the Green Day song plays in my head. I’m sure you know which one. The lyrics resonate with everything that I feel.

-I walk a lonely road. The only one that I have ever known. Don’t know where it goes, but it’s only me and I walk alone.
-My shadow’s the only one that walks beside me. My shallow heart is the only thing that’s beating. Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me. Till then I walk alone.

Pretty sure I’ve just embodied the ultimate package of a writer’s cliche.

Nobody to understand or appreciate the things I create. Nobody to make time for me. Nobody to see, listen, or truly accept me. Nobody in this reality of flesh, blood, chaos, death, and decay. Just me and a million of imaginary friends that live inside my head.

In a way this gives me more motivation to move forward and deal with things. You’re gonna have to excuse this melodramatic statement, but here it goes…

I refuse to have my thoughts and ideas die with me. My dreams will not stay as dreams. And if I’m forced to do things alone then so be it. These feelings of loneliness and negativity suck, but not as much as people do these days.

These feelings I will embrace and turn them into power, motivation, and creative fuel as well.

Everything and everybody else…fuck them. Chuck it in the “Fuck It” Bucket and keep it moving.



That New Year, New Me Bullshit

It is day two of 2018. I celebrated New Year’s Eve with my relatives. The majority of that day was spent in the kitchen making both croquettes and sushi. My sushi game isn’t entirely perfect, but it’s a vast improvement from where I was in the beginning. It’s a not a recipe to take lightly. A fun time was had by all.

I’m not depressed or anything. Really, I’m not. But I kept my excitement for the New Year in check while everyone keeps talking about what they hope 2018 will bring, posting resolutions and lofty goals about some cliched stuff like losing weight, finding romance, or pursuing unfulfilled goals. Your run of the mill “New Year, New Me” bullshit.

I have thought of what I want, but I don’t feel like sharing it with everyone like I normally would. Besides, let’s be real, I’ve been sharing that sort of stuff in almost every other post I’ve ever written.

When I tried writing my own list of resolutions it came out looking like something else. It looked more like a “Fuck It” List. That much I will share.

There is some shit that I’m just done with. I say “Fuck It” to all that stuff.

I’m done with the following…
-Biting my tongue.
-Being invisible.
-Being so damned mindful of others at my own expense.
-Holding back everything I think or feel.
-Caring about how others think or feel.
-Fearing consequences.

I’m like Wade Wilson. My brain is switched to “Fuck it”. More than likely I’m gonna come off as someone whose campaigning for biggest bitch of the year. I don’t even care about that. That’s the upside of getting older. The older I get, the less I care. I pulled that line from Wanda Sykes by the way. It matches my mood. I no longer possess any type of energy for any artifice or facades of any kind.

At first I thought this was depression doing the thinking and talking for me. But nope, I’m just fed up with things the way they are and how I’ve been living my life up until now.

My life doesn’t completely suck. I’ve been in tighter, uglier spots. But I’m not living the fairy tale I’ve always wanted either. If anything had gone according to plan I’d have been done with college, be a published author, travelled to Japan, and have married the man of my dreams.

Meanwhile I see everyone getting what they want because they’ve followed through on their rigid 5 year plans. Then I get so jealous that my eyes turn emerald green. Jealousy is still such a abnormal feeling for me. I had never been jealous of anyone my entire life until four years ago. I wish I could cut it out of my body like a cancerous tumor just like everything else that I don’t like about myself.

So I’m gonna take that jealousy and use it as motivation. Everything that’s ugly in this reality will no longer obstruct me, but will give me power. Whatever I don’t like about myself I will not allow it to have control over me. Doesn’t matter if it’s my “Nightmare Syndrome” or anything else.

So there’s my “New Year, New Me” bullshit. I leave you with that.



Things always have a way of coming back full circle. There are patterns and struggles that repeat in a loop. There are words, spoken and written, that are always echoing. That seems to be the nature of memories, good and bad.

I’m remembering a myriad of memories and emotions tied with them are returning to me. It’s like carrying the weight of an entire universe inside of me. It doesn’t help that I’ve read some of my earlier posts and remembering where I was in those moments I took the time to put everything into words.

I remember when I first started writing this blog I was trying to come back from failures that occurred earlier in the spring. I was also desperate to leave the Cottages of Boone. I remember feeling my anxieties spiking and climbing because of little things like getting an e-mail, the phone ringing constantly, or being spotted by a professor on the street, and having to talk to my parents and cousins about what was going on in my mind.

Then there were the times I had to deal with the intervention team, picking up the nerve to go through counseling, stomaching my last two months at The Cottages, waiting to hear back about the Nest, finding roommates, and enduring the extreme isolation that always unsettled me.

Then I got the house, I passed my summer classes, and started feeling better about myself. Things seemed to look promising at the start of the fall semester, but it wasn’t without it’s own share of struggles.

I feel very mixed about things. I have this feeling that has my stomach tied up in knots. A feeling as though something catastrophic is going to happen. I know it’s a cognitive distortion at work. I know it’s “fortune telling”.

I know a big reason I’m feeling this way is because I have uncertainties about what the future holds for me once life at App State is over. I keep thinking, “One mistake and it’s all over. Please don’t let me screw up”. This dreadful feeling is the only thing that my mind is registering as a certainty.

This feeling is no different from everything I was experiencing over the summer. When I realized this I started to think about how things like this are always forming into these repeating patterns.

The intrusive thoughts of suicide, the constant “battles” I have to fight, the self-loathing, feeling like nothing I say or do is ever good enough. It keeps coming back. It doesn’t stop there either. I’m remembering times when I was at my worst and even though I survived all of that there’s still this sort of power behind it.

As I write I’m doing all that I can to fight off the negativity and remember that things will get better. I’m calling forth better memories to show that not everything in my life has been perpetual doom and gloom.


I remember Jewels loving me unconditionally, the way her tail wagged, how she begged for belly rubs, her little footsteps in the hallways or on the streets, always running to me because she was happy to see me.



These kids worked their way into my heart the same way Jewels did. The more I spend time with them I feel my own innocence return to me. It reminds me that I am a good person even when there are times I feel otherwise.


Then there’s my Mom, my aunts, and my cousins. They believe in me even when I’m doubting myself. They love me even when I hate myself. I draw strength from them because I have their blood coursing through my veins.

I remember all the times I felt like giving up and running away during these last few months. I could’ve easily dropped everything, but I kept it going. The same is true for the more distant past.

I remember imagining that I would never able to write anything and now I’m creating my own story universe, complete with all sorts of lore.

I remember thinking that I would never get accepted into a University and now I’m in App State.

I remember all the things that I once perceived as impossibilities and somehow, against all odds, I made them happen. So why should now be any different?

There’s still a lot of good buried deep within my memories and inside of me. And there’s still hope beyond everything that I perceive as bad or imposing. I just have to keep digging through everything.

Here I go.

Maybe It’s a Writer’s Thing

I know I’m not alone in this. I know they are people who are going to relate to this. This is something I meant to writer earlier, but then it turned into something else.

Like this post or comment if you agree or identify with the following:
-“Wow. The more dumb things I see or hear from people the more I prefer the company of dogs.”
-“I can’t deal with reality. I’m out of here.”
-“I could be writing now, but no I’m forced to socialize with people who make me want to vomit on sight.”
-“I don’t belong in this world.”
-“I can’t connect with anyone.”
-“Nothing here makes sense.”
-“I can’t share anything with anyone because they don’t understand. Even my friends.”

I’m back on my writing kick. I have all these ideas that I’d love to share with people, but so far I’ve got no takers. I was stuck in traffic with my best friend, Dan, and he just didn’t seem into anything. Plus he seemed confused. Either way he was just not on the same wavelength as me.

I have other friends in Charlotte, but I can’t share with just anyone. I’ve had experiences where I’ve shared ideas with others and then they try to force things onto me. It’s like they they’re trying to pull and make my creation into their own idea. Then there are those that aren’t likely to understand what I’m doing, people who aren’t on the same wavelength as me.

My good friend Scott pointed out to me that my way of thinking is just something that people can’t sync up with. I remember when I became more serious about wanting to write fiction I not only had these ideas for different projects, but I also had a vision in my mind’s eye that I would not only meet like minded creative people, but that I would be leading them. We’d go on to be the new Marvel Comics. Or Rooster Teeth.

That vision is from so long ago. I’m not even sure if it’s possible for me anymore. I remember my biggest problem was that I couldn’t connect with people in Boone, including my roommates (past and present). But now I think it’s much bigger than that. I can’t connect with people at all. I feel like I’m worlds apart from everyone else.

First I thought I just had trust issues. But no, it’s a complete disconnection. What I’m finding more disturbing is how nonchalant I am about it. I don’t know if it’s exhaustion from recent months that’s taking its toll on me or not, but I don’t care about connecting with people anymore.

This keeps repeating in my mind…
-“I’m done with trying to be open and understanding with everyone”
-“I don’t care if people understand me or not anymore”
-“The true friends and Dream Man I’ve been looking for don’t exist.”

Plus it really doesn’t help that I keep noticing the flaws in people in general
-People get offended so easily. They don’t have the thick skin to endure anything like I needed.
-Relationships in reality are so artificial. And it’s all thanks to social media.
-Everyone’s understanding is skin deep. No further than that.

I live in a different world than everybody else and I’m the only one who gets to experience it. I’m lucky to even get one person to talk to me at all. Or like my Facebook posts, Instagram photos, or comprehend any words that come out of my mouth. Then when I do try to communicate out loud everything I say sounds so awkward. As if English isn’t my first language. I almost sound like that dude with the funky accent in The Room.

And this feeling of being content with disconnecting with people contradicts with what I want. I hate being alone. I want to be in a relationship with someone. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life as some misanthropic hermit but the way things are going now that’s the road I’m heading towards.

I need to stop before I blow a fuse in my brain. I don’t even know where this is coming from anymore.

Gauntlet Cleared

So I finally finished running the academic gauntlet and today marked my first official day of freedom. Remember when I said it felt like I experienced a Bloodborne boss battle in real life? Let me clarify something…I wasn’t fighting ONE thing. I was fighting multiple things…

Like this…


Or this one…

Let’s not forget this beautiful specimen….

And it left me feeling and looking like this in my mind’s eye…

So yeah…that happened.

But I got through it! I can’t tell you how good it feels to back home and enjoying a nice, quiet, uneventful evening at home in a heated room while playing as much Netflix and J-Rock as I want and as loud as I want and be around people who actually enjoy my company. And to not have anything hanging over my head…until I’m back in Boone anyway.

I was scared shitless because I had to write and revise a bunch of articles for Feature Writing. It was tough having to write everything while trying to shut out the voice in my mind that carried all my doubts, self loathing, and judgements.

I almost gave up on everything because my nerves were so shot to hell and my mind kept “short circuiting” on me. I honestly have no clue what’s going to happen grade-wise. But at that point I needed to just push through and do it for myself. So I can enjoy this winter break knowing that I at least gave it everything I had. Not to mention I stopped myself from giving up like I’ve done in the past. Around this same time I made that previous post for my audio doc class. After that I slept like I was dead in my bed.

This entire year has been a series of battles for me. But it was all for the better. Were these last couple of weeks a complete cakewalk? No. But it could’ve been so much worse. I know I’ve been through worse mentally. Especially from long ago.

There was a bunch of other stuff that happened. Minor stuff that I would’ve most likely turned into a bigger deal than they needed to be. Or in my case produce more monsters in my head. I think I’ve somehow managed to adjust somehow. I’m beginning to unlearn the behavior and reactions that fuel my depression. But it still hasn’t come easy for me because…

-I ended up falling for someone else. Someone that I know I can’t have. I’m trying to put those feelings behind me.
-I’m struggling with trying to figure out what to really do with my future after graduation.
-I keep worrying about how next semester will turn out. I fear that the smallest mistake will undo all my progress. I’m repeating to myself, “Please don’t let me fuck up. Please don’t let me fuck up.”
-I sometimes keep hearing this tick-tock going off in my mind. Like my mind is telling me that time is running out for my dreams.
-There’s probably more stuff…that I’m not up to talking about yet.

But I’m going to be all right. I have time for myself to write something that’s not for a grade. I’m free to vent out all my pent up rage and frustrations through Persona 5, Nier Automata, and actual Bloodborne. I can resume cooking. I’ve been meaning to try out some new recipes. Oh yeah and I can finally eat something that’s not Domino’s Pizza. If I see another slice of pepperoni and mushrooms during this winter break it’ll be way too soon.

The rest of the stuff that’s bugging me I won’t let it get me down. All the progress I’ve made on my journey isn’t going to be undone by anything. Not as I long as I choose to keep going.

Audio Documentary.

Hello, my dearest readers. This particular post isn’t really for you, but for my teacher whose given me the chance to do things this way after a major hiccup during a big assignment. If you feel like giving it a lesson, knock yourself out. It’s like I can do anything to stop you. I wasn’t the best student in this audio documentary class but I really did enjoy myself. But be forewarned when it came to the technical aspect of things…I SUCK. Please don’t judge me. It’s been a hard week. I feel like I’ve been through a series of Bloodborne or Dark Souls boss fights…in reality. But with this, I’m officially free. I’m gonna go unwind now…probably play Persona 5 for the millionth time. I dunno yet, the winter break has barely started. I digress. PEACE!

My Intro

Sense of Place


Final Project