The Unlikely Incident

As I reflect on it now, I know that it was the defining moment; it turned my life around. It was one of those seemingly unimportant moments in life. Some people would think it was silly. That small lump of excess protein and fluid defined who I was as a person.

It's dried and crusty husk clung to my finger, refusing to accept its fate: to be flung into some unknown corner and forgotten. I was not going to let that happen to me. I had made several realizations about my life, and it wasn’t too late. I could still change and not wind up a forgotten and useless mass on the tip of life's finger. I would survive.

It wasn't always useless and shriveled. It had started thick, full of substance and moldable to whatever position I might fill. It was adaptable and full of potential, just as I was. As time passed on however, it just stayed there; clinging to one place on my finger, unmoving as the sands of time blew over it, ignoring it. It became nothing, just as I was. It could have done many things, but it stayed in one spot, just as I did. It rapidly faded, losing its potential, just like what was happening to me.

It wasn’t completely perfect. Before being plucked from the rest of it's ilk, it had already dried at the edges, setting it apart as an irritation. Rather than change and become useful, it stayed there, abandoned by its society: an outcast. I had done the same thing; I had separated myself. I was in this dismal station because I couldn't grasp change. The rest of my kind moved on to better things, while I remained, clutching to the gates of time, fired from my job due to lack of new skills.

I imagine it wasn't always so. I'm sure beforehand this now dried lump one was indistinguishable from its mates. It might have had a job sure, but it was a nomad. It moved freely through a complex system, changing to suit its environment, just as I once did. I was fresh out of high school, and had so many possibilities. I had a girlfriend, a promising future; overall I had a life. I was an up and comer. If it weren't for my wife's traumatic death, I probably would have been successful. Come to think of it, that probably happened to the lump as well: life threw it a loop and it couldn't handle the change.

Things that don't change get behind the times; they become obsolete. Life has ways of removing those who serve no function. Just as easily as I plucked this irritation, so could life pluck me. If I were to go, how would others remember me? I would be forgotten. Long past my prime, and unyielding to the times, I would be remembered as an irritation that was (thank goodness) removed. That’s not how I wanted to be remembered. I was a caring guy who loved his wife deeply. I hadn't been popular and she was the guiding light of my life. Every success I had I owed to her. Her loss had put me into a rut. I no longer had the courage she gave me. I was nothing more than the underweight asthmatic nerd who didn't know which end of the putter you used to hit the puck into the field for a home run.

As I flung the booger into a nearby trash can, I was filled with resolve. My wife wouldn't want me to give up. She would want me to live life even better, since I had to live for both of us. Even as the booger shattered into its many unfulfilled hopes and dreams, mine grew and swelled. I could hear my wife's words of encouragement as 15 years of pain and sorrow turned into a surge of motivation. As I reeled my life back together, I felt my wife's spirit welling up in my chest, giving me life, and I knew she was proud of me. I know now it was her who arranged my incident with the snot, and it was her who, in her infinite creativity, reached out to me and made my life worth living again.

The Prophecy

Several generations ago, a group of mystics(those who deal with aural energy and its manifestation) began to have visions of and ending of their world. An ending of energy, magic, and all matters of the soul. A rather unlikely collection, but bound by their belief of the prophecy and innate desire to pevent it. Now known as the Originators, they created trough the binding of pieces of their own essence into a new soul, later to be incarnated as a Guardian. Not much was known about the bad thing or how it was to be brought about. Only that would be brought with time and vision. The guardian exists today, and the originators are reincarnated. A new revelation shows that during the guardian's creation, one other threw their portion in, upseting the balance the originators wanted. It caused theguardian to have a heart, concience, and a concept of morality. This abberation to design caused minor problems at first, but the guardian was eventually brought about to his duty and life design. Recently, the Guardian has conferred with the originator who had the vison, and now it is evident that one of the originators in this incarnation will prove to be the invoker of the bad thing. Another complication is the guardian recently has ben unable to vent his growing frustration and anger. It has been growing and the only thing that can satiate the guardian has been denied him. What is the guardian to do?

Friday the 13

This is a special time for me.

A day when i can let the chaotic energies flow through me and revel in their emotional rapturous glory.

A time where it matters not what is fact, fiction, truth or lies.

All that matters is instinct and emotion.

No politics today.

This is my time to be powerful.

My time to bask in the glow of others misfortune as karma balances out within me.

A time to spread my tear stained wings and tower over the pathetic excuses of humanity we have today.

A world where people live in denail fear and fakery is mine to destroy and to leave in its wake a place where mankind is not afraid to be honest, to show their feelings.

Not afraid to become angry at someone or to love someone unconditionally.

Not afraid for change.

A world of adaptability.

So let the chaotic powers reside witghin their rightful master, and allow the powerup from ordinary to extraordinary as i prove once again that nothing can stop me and nothing can overpower the sanctity of emotional instinct.

Manta, come to me and let us combine to create the embodiment of darkshock; a mirror into the true colors of this world. A shadow to allow true light to shine forth. A world where I am Alwaysthebigbrother no more.

People view jealousy as a bad thing. I know because I was one of them.

Then I began to think.

Jealousy isn't a crime. It's a tool.

Jealousy fuels rage, which in situations that impact my life, can be a benefit.

As I type, I let the darnkess in my soul well up, compounding upon my rage, building it. My jelaousy swirls like a tempest.

The wings of truth and justice that lie upon my back warp and twist into demon's wings, filled with fire and hate.

Hate for those who hurt me.

Hate for those who spurn me.

Hate to those who don't know.

Hate to myself for not letting go.

The beast is unleashed, but under the guise of a friend.

Now to manipulate to my own selfish end.

Why do I get Jealous.

I hate what jealous people do, I hate what jealous people act like.

Jealousy in and of itself is caused by what seems to me to be petty reasons.

So the question I ask is why?

Why do I get Jealous?

Why does the power embrace me?

Why is it that as it is bubbling up inside of me I don't fear and destroy, I accept and inspire?

Why am I addicted to its power?

What causes me to feel this way?

What causes me to do Dark desires, yet hate them in the end?

Why do I hurt?

Why...?

Thats it. I've hurt the one I care deeply for. I can't do this.

I can't.

I'm pierced, and cannot move the shaft.

I can't.

I wish i could say good bye.

I can't.

I want to give up.

I won't.

I will not hurt whom I love anymore.

Never more.

I feel old.

Drained.

I regret what I do, but not how I do it.

Im sorry.

I am.

I.

Love.