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It’s not just about someone being paper thin to you, showing you they will always be there. Sometimes when someones hurts you so much you need to put up the disappearing acting. Not for some form of punishment, but because you were losing who you were, and you needed that back.

Ten to 4AM. I never fail to be exactly where I am at this moment; on the stoop with this last but hanging outta my mouth, looking up at the stars. Only up there is especially cloudy, which is unfortunate, but I’ll shoot back for tomorrow. My mind has been over flowing with creative ideas lately. It’s amazing. I finally have this solid vision of how exactly this project will go. Tomorrow I finish my script and move onto story boarding shorty thereafter. It should be a productive day on my end, and that is exactly how I want it to pan out. With luck, I’ll have this set up and running by next week/end. I’m thrilled to see how this all fairs, how my very first short compiles together. I will be very honest and say I have the greatest feeling rattling in my bones.

I constantly look around at everyone’s familiar faces. It’s like I’m always the one observing while everyone is the one in the act. Which sounds bad the way I put it but indeed is not. The punch at the end of this thought is that I want everyone to make it, want everyone to be proud of something in their life, to be happy at the end of the day. Depression and unhappiness draws an unhappiness in myself. I hate to see a sad face. I dwell upon its expression and want to include some perspective. I’m just hoping at the end of every morning before I lay my head to pillow, that all the ones that deserve to be okay are okay.

People have a number of things; small harmless habits that personally yield them no good or no bad. One of the larger ones for me at least, is taking a second to glance above at the stars. Allow me to trek backward with my words and say that this does plenty of good, actually. In fact it’s the perfection of mind therapy. It’s beautiful and inspiring, when you can tilt you head up on a clear night sky and bask in the wonder planted firmly up there. The orbs watching over our world; the illuminating moon and distant blinking stars, they bring much clarity to a damaged mind. Damaged with the regular but mundane practices of daily lives. Working like a horse for mainly no reason at all, rather than the ones embedded in a system some goofball created. Up there, it’s utter magic. I can’t help but entertain this though that people don’t look up enough. Sometimes, and only sometimes, you might catch a glimpse of something strange gliding throughout its seemingly empty blackness. Until it goes, disappearing beyond the tall trees on our rounded sphere.

Tonight around 11 I indulged some really ridiculous, and as far as I'm concerned pointless drug. A drug said to be the 'partiers drug' and the flashing lights and robot-like sounds fuel its fires, making it seem like a dance scene in a dance movie. Only thing I came to realize is that that's not my scene and not in the least. I was sweating but at the same time I felt cold. I needed to move but at the same time I only felt okay sitting down. Through it all I felt on the border of tripping on acid. Disoriented as all hell and questioning the point of its consumption. Luckily it had me home and safe around three and that was nice, for I didn't want such a late night. I crawled into bed, yawning and longing for a decent nights rest. Silly me because I tossed and turned with my eyes closed shut. For a second there I felt as though I went somewhere other-worldly; a meditation, perhaps. It was as though I was resting every nerve and muscle in my body but at the same time conscious in this reality. Now, I'm lying awake at 6:03. Three hours and three minutes later with not a wink in my close future. Few hours I'm going to be selling comics with my brother at a convention in the Bronx. Either I'll crash mid-day or I'll carry on with a second charge. Hell, I slept nicely the night prior, so my hopes are high. Don't think I'll even attempt to lay back down and take a nap. 

"Beautiful night, isn’t it?" He spoke with a fruitfully and freeing look to his slightly pale face.

Dressed with overalls and big brown boots, he may as well have been a farm worker. But while he sat up against a blank gravestone in the dead of night, a farmhouse was nowhere to be found. At least not anywhere relatively nearby.

"I know it’s an odd place to take you," while taking a sip of his red wine, “But I drove past here the other afternoon and I guess you can say it sang out to me."

Beside him, also sitting against the gravestone, was his girlfriend. She was a lot more pale than he was, dressed up with a diehard punk rocker look; I suppose her skin tone was just part of the getup.

"Here!" Said the young and spritely lit boy, as he reached behind the gravestone and bringing forth a wine glass, and he said, “I only brought one, but here," he half filled the glass with wine from the large bottle he held in his hand. “You know best that I never minded none to drinking from the bottle, haha," he said and chuckled before shoving the glass firmly into her hand so hard that thick liquid swished around and spilt out onto her dress. “Ugh, sorry about that. I am a little nervous…"

The pale girl with her eyeballs bugged the size of quarter dollars didn’t say a word, and stared off into the dead space of nothingness in front of her.

Silence overtook this scene of romantic filth up against the gravestone that quite possibly laid a corpse, rotting beneath its earthly dirt.

He took another drink from his wine bottle but this not a swig, but a lengthy chug that had him almost choking it all up after he brought the bottle back down.

The boys love still didn’t whisper or whimper a single sound from her lipstick covered lips that cracked just the smallest crack open.

His head lifelessly dropped and stayed down in some kind of shame as he proceeded to speak, “You know that I love you right?" Then he got more lively, picking his head and and leaning in her way. “I love you so much it hurts me to think of what would happen if you were to leave me. Or what I’d do to myself. Or maybe even you…" He finished his quick ‘speal’ for the time being and returned to his shameful position.

Still, she stayed in what maybe appeared in some state of awe. No movement. No words.

"Look you are really making me uncomfortable. Can you please take a sip of your wine, at least. To ease this? For me?" He placed his hand under the base of the glass he before placed firmly in her hands, in hopes of lifting it up to her mouth, if just for the tiniest sip to somehow ease this awkwardness. But she used no strength to help his guiding, and the glass tipped over and out from her hands. He stood up quickly and screamed in pure fury, “GOD DAMMIT! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME," He yelled down upon her before striking her across her face, making her fall from her indian style position.

She made no attempts to regain herself in anyway and he breathed heavy breaths over her.

"No, no, no! I’m so sorry baby!" He quickly said in absolute remorse, reaching down to grab her shoulders to bring her body and face from lying in the dirt. He placed her body neatly back upon the blank gravestone, fixed the hair that covered her entire face, and sat back down beside her.

His once quiet girlfriend that he screamed at and struck….still, did not move. And why? Because her vocal cords were likely to have dried up by now. Her nerves cease to electrify beneath her shell of skin and the pumping blood pumped no more. She was and had been dead all evening. And even still, the young farmer-like dressed boy continued on as if he had not a clue.

Nonchalantly he said, “That was out of line, I shouldn’t have hit you that hard. I suppose I’m just burning with passion. But I’m glad that you can forgive me,"

finishing with a kiss to the cheek closest to him.

Her eyes were dead with blackness. Her mouth, due to his strike, an inch more open than previously.

The boy yawned and outstretched his arms to make his hands into fists when the last breath gasped, and he dropped them on his lap. “Such a beautiful night tonight. I knew that you’d like this place, I found it earlier afternoon, " he spoke in utter redundancy while looking at his watch, and he tapped it saying, “Maybe I should cut to the chase here, I don’t want to waste anymore of your time." He turned back to where his body faced hers and began to talk to his dead girlfriend, “Sweet pea, I love you. But I think that maybe we should be apart for the time bein- No, no, no! No crying, please. This has nothing to do with you! You are great," he conversed and threw out hand gestures as if his dead girlfriend was speaking back to him. “Well I know that it sounds fishy by me saying that it isn’t you and it’s me, but I actually mean that! I think that I am too in love with you to go on with the fact that one day you may fall for another, and leave me completely. So I am cutting you out now before we happen to get there."

He took another long chug of his wine and knocked his head back against the gravestone. There was a silence that took for maybe five seconds.

I guess you can say I've been rocking out a little too hard lately and that's why I haven't been writing much. But it's okay, at least, that's what I've been telling myself. That "I'm young." Want to live it up a little bit for some kind of second act. Because damn, I know I've been here once before at some other prior time. I can say living this life has been teaching me a couple things and one is that I live in a generation of people who just love to fuck. It's almost disturbing waltzing throughout my own personal experiences and glazing at the ones beside me. It's as if we're all a bunch of swingers, and we don't even bother to admit it. I won't write it off in a explosion of negativeness; who doesn't love the sex as much as the person they have the pleasure of doing it with. But I will be utterly honest with myself to say it partially sucks knowing I've thrown the stone serval times, subconsciously hoping to hit gold and instead hitting just boring old copper. Not to say I'm looking for something sacred but something genuine could be a swell change of pace. I miss the good kind of butterflies. I miss trying to hold back a cheesy blush because I'm trying to remain the cool-guy persona, ha! Perhaps I'm in some way not yet entitled for something glorified just yet, and I know what I'm searching for isn't a girl right now. I'm searching for that love in myself and fuck no, I don't mean security. I'm speaking about "The Love", "The Passion", the thing that makes me tick and tock and light up in complete electrifying energy. I'm tired of taking orders from people whose life dream is serving food to over-privlaged people who take everything for granted in this life.

Begins when I gather the power to transcend in my own right. When I find the strength to let go of all my poisonous temptations and learn to live how I believe we are all destined to live; in the center of pure zen. They say there is no time like the present and its spoken as a cliche for a reason, because its true. I wish not for just me but for everyone to free themselves of any ego left in them, for we don’t need to hang onto it. I wish for everyone to live for the simpler things, like smelling the flowers or the enjoying a warm or cold night. To find enjoyment in all things beautiful and inspiring and release themselves from all the ugly and corrupting. To embrace their emotions as they come, whether it be sad or mad but of course happy.

Truthfully, this is the only salvation the human race has left in hopes of evolving into the species we were destined to be. We can do great things by living in peace and achieve everything and anything we want to.