It's My Birthday

It's my birthday. Which means money and, most importantly, CAKEEEE! Let's just hope I don't have to remind my parents in my birthday again -_- I'd also like to thank all the people who wished me a happy birthday via Facebook, phone calls, and texts. Means a lot to me.

Kill Me

Seriously, just fucking kill me. I'm so sick of having parents that abandon me at every opportunity they see. I've got nothing in my future that I can find worth living for. I hate myself. My looks, my mind, my fucking hopeless romanticism, my dorkiness. All of it. I hate always being alone. I hate never being good enough to be someones friend, someones son or someones boyfriend. I am a scourge upon the Earth. A waste of space that was given life as some sort of fucking cosmic joke. And if I weren't such a fucking coward I'd probably end it all myself. I can't, so I shall continue to go through life alone and in pain. At this point, who cares?

What I Got

• Casio 61 Key Piano
• Fable III
• 3,200 Microsoft Points
• NBA 2K11
• UFC 2010
• Clothes
• Gloves
• Around $400
• New Sneakers
• Two Blu-Ray Movies

 Yeah, I had a pretty good Christmas ^^

Can't Wait for the New Album :D

Meaning of the Universe

You were on your way home when you died.

It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered that you were better off, trust me.

And that’s when you met me.

“What... what happened?” You asked. “Where am I?”

“You died,” I said, matter of factly. No point in mincing words.

“There was a… a truck and it was skidding…”

“Yup,” I said.

“I… I died?”

“Yup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone dies,” I said.

You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. “What is this place?” You asked. “Is this the afterlife?”

“More or less,” I said.

“Are you God?” You asked.

“Yup,” I replied. “I’m God.”

“My kids… my wife,” you said.

“What about them?”

“Will they be alright?”

“That’s what I like to see,” I said. “You just died and your main concern is your family. That’s good stuff right there.”

You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn’t look like God. I just looked like some man. Or some woman. Some vague authority figure, maybe. More of a grammar school teacher than the Almighty.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “They’ll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn’t have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was already falling apart. If it’s any consolation, she’ll feel very guilty for being relieved.”

“Oh,” you said. “Well what happens now? Do I go to heaven or hell or something?”

“Neither,” I said. “You’ll be reincarnated.”

“Ah,” you said. “So the Hindus were right.”

“All religions are right in their own way,” I said. “Walk with me.”

You followed along as we strolled through the void. “Where are we going?”

“Nowhere in particular,” I said. “It’s just nice to walk while we talk.”

“So what’s the point then?” You asked. “When I get reborn, I’ll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won’t matter.”

“Not so!” I said. “You have within you all of the knowledge of your past lives. You just don’t remember them all right now.”

I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. “Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It’s like sticking your finger into a glass of water to see if it is hot or cold. You put a tiny part of yourself into the vessel, and when you bring it back out, you’ve gained all the experiences it had. You’ve been in a human for the last 48 years, so you haven’t yet stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we hung out here for long enough, you’d start remembering everything. But there’s no point doing that in between each life.”

“How many times have I been reincarnated, then?”

 “Oh lots. Lots and lots. And into lots of different lives.” I said. “This time around, you’ll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 A.D.”

“Wait, what?” You stammered. “You’re sending me back in time?”

“Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.”

“Where do you come from?”

“Oh sure,” I explained. “I come from somewhere. Somewhere else. And there are others like me. I know you’ll want to know what it’s like there, but honestly you wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh,” you said, a little let down. “But wait. If I get reincarnated to other places in time, I could have interacted with myself at one point.”

“Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own lifespan you never even know it’s happening.”

“So what’s the point of it all?”

“Seriously?” I asked. “You’re asking me the meaning of life? Isn’t that a little stereotypical?”

“Well it’s a reasonable question,” you persisted.

I looked you in the eye. “The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature.”

“You mean mankind? You want us to mature?”

“No, just you. I made this whole universe just for you. With each life you grow and mature and become a larger and greater intellect.”

“Just me? What about everyone else?”

“There’s no one else,” I said. “In this universe, there’s just you and me.”

You stared at me blankly. “But all the people on Earth…”

“All you. Different incarnations of you.”

“Wait. I’m everyone?!”

“Now you’re getting it,” I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.

“I’m every human being that has ever lived?”

“Or who will ever live, yes.”

“I’m Abraham Lincoln?”

“And you’re John Wilkes Booth, too,” I added.

“I’m Hitler?” You said, appalled.

“And you’re the millions he killed.”

“I’m Jesus?”

“And you’re everyone that ever followed him.”

You fell silent.

“Every time you victimized someone,” I said. “You were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve ever done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy or sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.”

You thought for a long time.

“Why?” You asked me. “Why do all this?”

“Because someday, you will become like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re one of a kind. You’re my child.”

“Whoa,” you said, incredulous. “You mean I’m a God?”

“No. Not yet. You’re a fetus. You’re still growing. Once you’ve lived every human life throughout all of time, you’ll have grown enough to be born.”

“So this whole universe,” you said. “It’s just…”

“An egg,” I answered, flatly. “Now it’s time for you to move on to your next life.”

And I sent you on your way.

-The End

I Forgot I Had This -__-

Hello again, Blogger. I apologize for forgetting about you, but I've been busy.

School has fallen into a comfortable rhythm at last. The days go by much more quickly now, which is good considering the play is coming up. Yeah, that's right, I'm in the play. Not that I have a big role or anything, but still. Actually, I was in the last play as well, but who cares about the specifics right? Actually the play is why my last novel stalled and why it probably won't get finished and edited until Spring/Summer. I'd like to add a quick sorry to Eleanor for not writing with her for NaNoWriMo as I couldn't write with all the distractions. I ask for forgiveness. *end apology*


Anyways, December is seemingly going to round out quite nicely. Despite the usual winter blues and how depressing it is to see all the happy couples come Christmas time. Who knows? Maybe I'll be one of those happy couple by then. I won't be, but hey a guy can dream right?

Lost In Thought

I've begun to realize more and more that, while somewhat meaningful;, my life has been a total letdown. I'm more often then not lonely, I have almost no friends, and I pander away at a blog that no one will ever really read (no offense). I've begun to wonder if I really have any true hope for happiness or meaningful companionship. Though I know 16 isn't the do or die year for such things, as sadly most teens of my age do, I also realize that I'm getting no younger. I must wonder if the relationships that I have, for lack of a better word, fucked up royally  will come back to bite me. I've lost love twice. One love that I still sadly dwell on during many a somber and sleepless night.

Am I as hopeless as I believe myself to be? Will I go through this life bitter and alone? Or will some soul find something within me worth loving. I suppose only time will tell, but time has never especially smiled upon me.