The Bi-Line

I don't remember when I wrote this. All I know is that it was sometime after December of 2011. I've been single since then, so that's how I know it. Anyway, this is another that I actually like. Here is "Broken Men" Broken men cry alone Inside their hearts Nothing at all Broken souls whisper to no one Their words are nothing but quotes from a dead man's diary Broken hearts burn with pain Like fire from the depths of Hell Making them cling to a wish for death Broken men hold amber bottles One more f**king love song And they end it all

THE FOLLOWING IS A PERSONAL RANT ABOUT SUICIDAL TENDENCIES. IT CAN BE TRIGGERING FOR MANY PEOPLE. IT IS ALSO MERELY MY OPINION. STATISTICAL DATA MAY BE CONTRARY TO WHAT I SAY. I HAVEN'T RESEARCHED IT. READER DISCRETION IS STRONGLY ADVISED. When someone takes their own life, it can be quite confusing for people who have never come close to crossing that line. Those of us who have been there have no confusion. No matter how different the situations are, the end is usually the same. People wonder how someone with so much going for them could want to die. They ask about the love that they get from family and friends. They make the mistake of seeing it through the eyes of a rational human being. I'll note that some people ARE being rational. There are rare cases where someone decides to beat a fatal illness or injury to the chase. Many of those cases are perfectly rational. Those cases aren't like most, though. Most suicide is irrational. The irrational suicidal mind often knows...

This is a poem I wrote when I was like 16 or 17. It was about a girl named Kim Quick. She and I were into each other and I gave her a quick kiss before she went on a trip. When she got back, though, nothing happened between us. We would later get back in contact and she would be into me and then I'd be into her, but it never lined up. Regardless, this is actually one of my favorite poems that I've ever written. I never gave it a title, so perhaps I'll just call it "For Kim" Blood splattered on broken wind-shield, Nursing a wound that cannot be healed, Dead on the inside, Alive on the out, Whispering things that I'm wanting to shout, Leaving my life for a front-row seat at death, Smiling because you're as addictive as meth, Outdone in all things by those I despise, Realizing that you have the most wonderful eyes, Trying hard to think of a purpose, I just noticed that they're staring at us, Wanting one more good bye kiss, Thinking of how ignorance really...

 Ever since I renounced my faith, in December of 2019, I've had a growing bitterness toward Christianity. I'm sure some of my social media friends and followers have noticed my blunt, and sometimes vulgar, attacks on Christianity. Many have written so-called "confessions" as ways to explain their religious journey. These are usually written in old age or during a time of fatal illness. I'm neither old nor, to my knowledge, fatally ill. My confession, religious Odyssey, or whatever you wish to call it comes at no time when such a thing would be expected. It was inspired by nothing more than the mere thought about confessions of such people as Tolstoy and Saint Augustine. Regardless, I'm writing it. Given my young age of 29 and 30 years (as this was written over the course of roughly a year), I likely have more time to grow in my beliefs. If such a thing happens, it's fine. I may add it to this, wherever it is that this writing ends up. This is merely a rant...

 My 20s began in the middle of my rebirth after months of self destruction and conspiracy. During that first year, things got weird. I got into enjoying pipe tobacco and cigars. A guy tried to murder me (shoutourt to Billy Prater for saving my life). I cosplayed for the first time. I really dug into the Power Rangers fandom (which brought me some interesting moments and friends.) I even started a Power Rangers fan page that would go on to get over 15K likes. It was crazy. That second year gave me the biggest change of my life, though. I flunked out of college again and moved to Southern California. At first, I didn't want to move. As you probably know, moving here is one of the greatest things to ever happen to me. The next year gave me my first real job. (I don't count the work study in college because I didn't really do anything.) I finally met my favorite author, Peter David. I cried when I told him how a comic or his helped save my life. My 4th year is when things start...

 So, life is weird. You can spend years defending an entire community with a near militant mindset, just to come to accept that you're not an ally but rather part of that community. Labels are crazy, so I've been struggling with them for years. It seems I've been struggling with it longer than I had thought. All the way back to when I was about 14 years old. It finally hit me a few days ago. My friend Mari posted a comic variant cover and I noticed that I was genuinely attracted to the person on the cover. So, I talked things through with my friend Sophia and she helped me. I finally accepted that I'm bisexual. I'm not into many guys. I'm mostly into women. Like WAY mostly. However, even being attracted to SOME guys means I'm not straight. I've looked at the terms of bi and pan and settled on bi as my term. So yeah...I'm not just bipolar, I'm also bisexual. I don't feel like I'm part of an oppressed community, but maybe the oppression is ...

 Sorry for not posting about the other Seattle days. I totally forgot. I had a good time, though.