Brendan Schaub: A Failed MMA Fighter Turned Failed Comedian Who Also Fails at Transphobic Humor

 

Lauren Kennedy West: a Schizophrenia Survivor Who Sounds Like Canada's Version of MAHA

 

Dacryphilia

CHORUS

You look cute when you’re crying

When you’re contemplating dying

When there’s no point in trying

When the world thinks you’re lying

Every plea for help sounds like sucking helium

In the pervert industry, it’s called dacryphilia

 

VERSE 1

The manliest men talking male suicides

Like they themselves got nothing dirty to hide

Vulnerability don’t jive well with the muscles

And the bushiest beards and the work culture hustle

Macho madness is the number one killer

Of lonely men who feel like background filler

All you have to do is reach out for help

Provided you have good insurance for health

 

CHORUS

You look cute when you’re crying

When you’re contemplating dying

When there’s no point in trying

When the world thinks you’re lying

Every plea for help sounds like sucking helium

In the pervert industry, it’s called dacryphilia

 

VERSE 2

The womanly women have permission to sob

Then get threatened and bullied by the right-wing mob

It was never about having a monopoly on tears

It was about who was better at weaponizing fears

Insecure men pull a gun or a knife

When the balance of power slides over to their wives

Or any woman with a little bit of independence

Male judges make sure the killer gets a light sentence

 

CHORUS

You look cute when you’re crying

When you’re contemplating dying

When there’s no point in trying

When the world thinks you’re lying

Every plea for help sounds like sucking helium

In the pervert industry, it’s called dacryphilia

 

VERSE 3

Do you envy the enby when they have the narrative?

Is it a blow to your ego? Are you a macho embarrassment?

Didn’t you learn in school that you had to share your toys?

Or did you dodge accountability like “boys will be boys”?

You throw all the punches and you call yourself the victim

When the ladies you decked have concussed double vision

When the other genders are too afraid to talk to the cops

Drag the world down so you can be the one on top

 

CHORUS

You look cute when you’re crying

When you’re contemplating dying

When there’s no point in trying

When the world thinks you’re lying

Every plea for help sounds like sucking helium

In the pervert industry, it’s called dacryphilia

Gunnery Sgt. Hartman from Full Metal Jacket vs. Schizophrenic Voices (Rest in Peace, R. Lee Ermey)

 

Mr. Syd Barrett, Where've You Been?

Mr. Syd Barrett, where’ve you been?

Sit your ass down and give this record a spin

The two of us are more than just bricks in the wall

We went a little crazy and we lost it all

They say it was the LSD that sealed your fate

But I call BS, at worst it’s ableist hate

Someone in our bloodlines was fucky in the head

We had a world of potential, but potential’s all dead

Born against our will into an unfeeling world

That shamed us for never catching brass rings and pearls

We had poetry for miles, many stories to tell

About the warring nations and a planet called hell

And the injustices of sitting in a jail cell

When your one and only crime was being unwell

And the corporate slavery of the music industry

Publishing too, they were never into me

Misunderstood at best and pariahs at worst

Our creations came second, mental health came first

Could we survive the housing market as roommates?

Or would the landlords evict us like, “See you soon, mate!”

We might get on each other’s nerves more often than not

The darkness inside reveals as the brain rots

The mask comes off like a neurodivergent rebel

And we make the batshit music at the highest decibels

Neighbors would complain that we’re melting their brains

Gurgling their intestines, filling ears up with pain

Maybe this is better as a what-if scenario

Maybe this nutty movie should be filmed in aerial

Sorry I wasted time with a hypothetical

But to reach out to the world takes steel testicles

In a society that laughs like a pack of hyenas

At the hurting class for not kissing fascist ass

Who would want us to be their loyal friend?

They get millions of them when a hashtag trends

Born into this world and thrown out with the trash

It’s a society that will one day be climate changed to ash

Give Me My Flowers

VERSE 1

I heard the words that no child should hear

“Your dreams are dead, no one will shed tears”

I carried them with me like brain cancer cells

And I survived my own schizophrenic hell

 

PRE-CHORUS 1

No, I don’t need the Medal of Freedom

I’ve seen who won and I don’t need to be them

Serve humble pies so my abusers can eat them

Poison the crusts so I can slay all my demons

 

CHORUS 1

Give me my flowers

Do it for hours

Give me my power

Give me my flowers!

 

VERSE 2

I did the math at the expense of my sanity

I took the pills at the expense of my vanity

And all I got was a damn piece of paper

That says nine-to-five is my one true savior

 

PRE-CHORUS 2

No, I don’t need the Medal of Honor

Though life is war when it only gets harder

Tell my teachers that it’s okay to forget me

Their C’s and D’s make it okay to regret me

 

CHORUS 2

Give me my flowers

Before they sour

Death to the cowards

Give me my flowers!

 

BRIDGE

They tell me it was so many years ago

As if it was something I would never know

Without their reminders and beige prose

Is it any wonder why I will not let go?!

 

CHORUS 3

Give me my flowers

Grown from spring showers

Wilt within hours

Give me my flowers!

Give me my flowers

On your own power

Say I deserve them

Water and serve them!

Bill Sessions: a "Winner" Who Didn't Use Drugs, But Probably Other Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms

 

I Want My Hobbies Back

VERSE 1

Laying in bed staring into outer space

No life in my eyes, ‘cause the life went to waste

Lips are too heavy to lift for a smile

Haven’t left the bed for a long-ass while

Arm is too weak to give the cat pettings

Only reason to get up is to avoid bedwetting

This would be a hell of a time for a hobby

But my brain is soup, primordial and sloppy

 

VERSE 2

Every song I listen to has an extra singer

One blasting the lyrics, one pointing the fingers

Call me every slur that’s ever been used

By every abuser who was once abused

Every story I write has an extra villain

That genocides my joy, laughs at the killing

Every videogame that I’ve tried to beat

Hit the Game Over screen looped on repeat

 

CHORUS

I want my hobbies back

I feel like I’m on crack

An LSD flashback

A poisoned bottle of Jack

I never touched the drugs

My brain don’t give a fuck

I’m high as hell anyway

Pretty much every day

 

VERSE 3

My dopamine supply is always running dry

Yet I couldn’t get a tear to drop from my eyes

Porn addiction is my only prescription

To medicate myself in this world called hell

Refraction periods are overrated

When a million orgasms leave you sedated

Couldn’t get real sex with my personality

It drained away with my social battery

 

CHORUS X2

I want my hobbies back

I feel like I’m on crack

An LSD flashback

A poisoned bottle of Jack

I never touched the drugs

My brain don’t give a fuck

I’m high as hell anyway

Pretty much every day

 

OUTRO

You couldn’t call it highway robbery

Too fucked up to drive, mental sodomy

All my potential stolen without a reason

Food for thought rotted before it was eaten

I was too threatening to the new world order

Because how dare my heart break for kids dead at the border?!

How dare my soul hurt for children raped by priests?!

How dare I ask for fairness and justice for the weak?!

Why All the Cartoons?

Alright…I think I owe everyone here an explanation as to why there have been so many political cartoons uploaded to my blog all at once. No, I didn’t get hacked, they are my drawings and I stand by those messages. In fact, cartooning has been a hobby of mine whenever my schizophrenic brain was too tired and too burned out to write stories or write poems. I can draw a cartoon anytime I want, whereas I have to wait a million years, maybe longer, to have the energy for writing stories and poetry. So yeah, that’s why I have a bunch of cartoons in my blog now. There will be so many more to come since I’ve been doing it throughout most of 2025, but I figured you guys deserved an explanation. I’m pacing myself with the upload schedule because it’s fucking tedious and drains me of energy pretty quickly. Stay tuned!

Always Wrong

You call me lazy while you sit on the couch

You call me fat while your gut’s sticking out

You call me expendable and wave your pink slip

You call me an idiot while your IQ takes a dip

You call me ugly while your lover is puking

You call me a simp while it’s her you’re abusing

You call me a loser while you’re floundering about

You call me a deadbeat while your future’s in doubt

You call me a snowflake while your eyes are pouring

You say I’m wasting my time while your life is boring

You say I’m virtue signaling to an audience of few

Yet the back of your truck says you “Back the Blue”

You’re running your mouth and you say it’s free speech

But all of my freedoms are somehow just out of reach

You abuse the constitution to make yourself feel strong

You’re not a model of strength, because you’re always wrong!

Always wrong! Always wrong!

I’ll say it over and over across a lifetime so long

Always wrong! Always wrong!

It’s a never-ending chorus for a never-ending song

Always wrong! Always wrong!

Always wrong! Always wrong!

Always wrong! Always wrong!

How are you a threat when you’re always wrong?!

All You Want Is More

VERSE 1

It might be a shocker to those unaware

But not all my dark secrets are fit to air

On TV, radio, or the good old Tubes of You

In between advertisements of whiskey and brew

Did I really do that to an old classmate?

Did I joke about submissives like a sick reprobate?

Did I do it on the bird app that I won’t call X?

Do I got a one-track mind preoccupied with sex?

 

CHORUS 1

I gave you my pain and all you want is more

I gave you my tears and all you want is more

Ripped open old wounds and all you want is more

Deets and dates, all you want is more!

 

VERSE 2

I crucified myself for an audience of many

I did it all for free, didn’t earn a single penny

The riches and bitches are for the anchors at five

Trust me when I say, they won’t call me “unalive”

 

CHORUS 1

I gave you my pain and all you want is more

I gave you my tears and all you want is more

Ripped open old wounds and all you want is more

Deets and dates, all you want is more!

 

BRIDGE

The conversation has long since run its course

Yet it happens again and you’ve got no remorse

Let the words of the greedy die a bloody death

It’s nosy at worst, concern trolling at best

 

VERSE 3

None of you got nothing to be nervous about

I was never suicidal, shouldn’t be in doubt

Even if the whole world takes turns fucking me

I’m alive for it all even when I fucking bleed

No gulag on earth will break me down

No reeducation camp will knock off my crown

I’m the king of my life, the god of my mind

My body’s made of meat, but it’s an axe I grind

 

CHORUS 2

I’ll give you my fist, do you want some more?

I’ll give you my bullet, do you want some more?

I’ll give you my blade, do you want some more?

Dicks and tricks, I hope you’re ready for more!

Dump and Dip

VERSE 1

My mom’s ex-boyfriend was a son of a bitch

Gave me lots of mental wounds, ripped open every stitch

Fatphobia and psychophobia

Any flavor of bigotry, the worst and the odious

Never mind the fact that he weighed more than me

And he’s got his own version of PTSD

The cycle of abuse passed the Boomer generation

The chain breaks here, I deserved the vacation

 

CHORUS

Got no time to process, keep your handsome proboscis

Out of my business, ‘cause you bear false witness

Won’t spend a single day in Sad People Jail

A.k.a. the psych ward, that’s where justice goes to fail

 

VERSE 2

When I was in prison a.k.a. high school

Those conservative batshits were so easy to fool

Spread a rumor about me dating a monster

Fuck anything that walks, I’m a sexual imposter

That shit wasn’t true and I screamed it ‘til I’m blue

Punching and kicking was the only thing to do

That’s where I learned to solve problems with violence

But since it’s illegal, I’m confined to my silence

 

CHORUS

Got no time to process, keep your handsome proboscis

Out of my business, ‘cause you bear false witness

Won’t spend a single day in Sad People Jail

A.k.a. the psych ward, that’s where justice goes to fail

 

VERSE 3

College was the time for partying and drugs

Limerence was my addiction, falsified hugs

Crushes on musicians and actresses

Took the place of real life, ‘cause I drew no attractions

A million pounds and a resting bitch face

Made me a pariah no matter what the place

No friends, no lovers, no teachers turned besties

Still limerent today, in my mind and in my testies

 

CHORUS

Got no time to process, keep your handsome proboscis

Out of my business, ‘cause you bear false witness

Won’t spend a single day in Sad People Jail

A.k.a. the psych ward, that’s where justice goes to fail

 

VERSE 4

I call it Dump and Dip because I don’t like to talk

About personal shit, got no choice but to walk

Can’t let them see my cry or overprotect me

No nurses for me, don’t even bother to inject me

With the world’s most powerful sedative juice

That could TKO a whale, double KO a moose

My freedom means more than an orderly’s pay

My individuality is here to fucking stay

 

CHORUS

Got no time to process, keep your handsome proboscis

Out of my business, ‘cause you bear false witness

Won’t spend a single day in Sad People Jail

A.k.a. the psych ward, that’s where justice goes to fail

Hell

VERSE 1

I see a frog-faced old man who tried to break my spirit

I see a demon-faced lover, when I said no, she didn’t hear it

I see a horse-faced soldier who laughed at all my faults

I see a zombie-faced friend who was no friend at all

 

CHORUS

I’m in hell!

I’m in hell!

I’m in hell!

I’m in hell!

 

VERSE 2

I burn inside the pit with people made of shit

I lay across the torture table with the opposite of Abel

I take a dip in the lake of fire until I break

I’m chained against the wall with nothing to do but bawl

 

CHORUS

I’m in hell!

I’m in hell!

I’m in hell!

I’m in hell!

 

BRIDGE

I pissed off the gods of schizophrenia

One too many times, hell is where I’m ending up

I’m locked in here, key dangling like a carrot

To clean my dirty laundry, I have to air it

 

VERSE 3

I fight with knives in my hands to bring the light to this land

I fight with stones in my heart, because villainy is an art

I fight with thunder in my mind, I’ll fuck up whatever I find

I fight with immortality, because I own this eternity

 

CHORUS

I’m in hell!

I’m in hell!

I’m in hell!

I’m in hell!

 

FINAL LINE

Wouldn’t skip this for the world

Mosquitos

You’re buzzing all around me like a mosquito

Feasting on flesh like a microwave burrito

Puking your poison over everything I love

Amythest colors drowned in shit from above

Every insult against me is a secret confession

Yet you yak your ass off like it’s your profession

If you buzz and bite for a long enough time

You buy space in my head for pennies on the dime

Just when I’m ready to stare into the void

Here come more mosquitos to keep me annoyed

There’s not enough bug spray on the planet

To make the army of bastards suddenly vanish

There’s not enough fire to match all my anger

To turn this epic war into an apocalyptic banger

I sleep for the night, no buzzing in my dreams

Then I awaken to see them swarming in teams

Being fucked up in the head is a lifelong job

No vacation days, those are only for slobs

No lunch breaks when I want to eat the rich

No free healthcare, pay for every single stitch

If fighting mental mosquitos is a real vocation

I’m the regional manager of every location

I ain’t the CEO, because I have no control

I ain’t the president, just look at the poll

I’d ask for my flowers, but the bugs like plants

Just keep kicking my ass, I’ll drop my pants

They don’t call it an insect infestation

They call it schizophrenia and call me a patient

The Schizophrenic's Creed

I am a schizophrenic

I didn’t ask to be one

I didn’t choose this life for myself

This life chose me

There are others like me who suffer as I do

But I am more than a statistic

I am a dreamer

I am a survivor

I am a warrior fighting against my past

My traumas are not my fault

I deserve better treatment from the world

Despite knowing this, my schizophrenia is still a part of me

It cannot be gaslit away

It cannot be prayed away

It is a disease just like any other

It’s no different from a fever

It’s a psychological cancer

The reason it exists is to destroy me from within

It has no other purpose

It is a curse I carry until the day I die

Hopefully, that day will come slowly

I have so much to do in this world despite my mind ghosts

I have people to love

I have art to create and consume

I have minds to change and hearts to care for

I do not know this yet and I may never know until it’s too late

But this world is a colder place without me and people like me

The world doesn’t love me, but I love the world

I’ll stay for as long as I can, even when my voices tell me lies

Amen!

Disconnect and Float Away

VERSE 1

Could’ve been an actor, but they never wanted me

They’d rather have a boy who doesn’t cry about sodomy

Instead of wildflowers and an Oscar or two

I dissociate and watch with a panoramic view

Let someone else fuck with the flying shield

Let Leo the Lion nip at someone else’s heels

Let the circle-eared mouse be the Speaker of the House

Let me wear a straightjacket, let them call it a blouse

CHORUS

Disconnect and float away

Fly to the same god in which you pray

Gravity may be a matter of physics

But crashing on your face is a matter of civics

VERSE 2

I hear the bootstrap rhetoric through a megaphone

But I dissociate in the comfort of my own home

Out of body experience, so I ain’t hearing this

Can’t buy a plane ticket, so it ain’t mysterious

A dick-shaped rocket can’t take me away from the discourse

Still get pissed on by the king and his horse

Send my brain into space, in a far away place

Where supernovas burn like a face full of mace

CHORUS

Disconnect and float away

Fly to the same god in which you pray

Gravity may be a matter of physics

But crashing on your face is a matter of civics

BRIDGE

Took a massive vacation from the deaths and inflation

Now the work has piled up like a crash in a train station

I could put it off until the end of my days

As long as someone else suffers and someone else pays

EXTENDED CHORUS

Disconnect and float away

Fly to the same god in which you pray

Gravity may be a matter of physics

But crashing on your face is a matter of civics

Disconnect and fly to the sun

For the time I’ve been given, it’s sure been fun

Come back to the earth, it’s a prison furlough

Freedom was nice, but I still hurt, though

Bend the Knee

VERSE 1

Get ready to bend the knee to King Petty

Your legs already feel like a piece of spaghetti

You live in my head, now it’s time to pay rent

I don’t care if you can’t afford to eat again

Blow you out my nose like I’m allergic to pollen

Blow you out my ass, it ain’t coming out solid

Which one is more tyrannical: a landlord or a king?

Depends on if your begging even means a thing

CHORUS 1

Bend the knee!

Bow to me!

Take my heed!

Or else you bleed!

VERSE 2

My storybook soldiers are always so loyal

Your graves are soil for the mighty and royal

Grow the tree of woe, put you in the Jesus pose

Drive spikes in your feet, bleed all over your toes

Drive spikes in your hands, quit jerking yourself

Leaving you to die is good for my health

“King Petty, King Petty, will you show me mercy?”

Hell to the no, your blood makes me thirsty

CHORUS 2

Bend the knee!

I ignore your plea!

Are you shitting me?!

You’re still guilty!

VERSE 3

All I want to do is slam dance to my music

All you want to do is blow my dynamite fuses

All I want to do is write my violent stories

All you want to do is leech off of my glory

You demons take credit for all of my fame

As though you and I are created the same

You’re a schizophrenic voice telling me to quit

Your ass is gone after I take my morning shit

CHORUS 3

Bend the knee!

Suck up to me!

You’re still a flea!

Carrying a disease!

Brain parasite!

Fuck my dreams at night!

Bend the knee to me!

Because I’m always right!

Bijou Birdwing

=========================================

THE BASICS

=========================================

Name: Bijou Birdwing

Nicknames: Little Birdie

Gender: Cisgender Female

Age: 27

Birth Date: 473 AM

Birth Place: Xavier Village

Currently Living In: Drifter

Species: Elf

Ethnicity / Race: Green skin

Citizenship: Honey Valley

Religion / Beliefs: Conspiracy theorist

=========================================

FAMILY

=========================================

Father: Unknown

Age: Unknown

Relationship: Absent

Mother: Betsy Birdwing

Age: Unknown

Relationship: Abandonment

Sister: Juliet Birdwing

Age: 32

Relationship: Abandonment

=========================================

PHYSICAL FEATURES:

=========================================

Height: 5’5”

Weight: 100 lbs.

Frame / Build: Frail

Hair length: Scraggly

Hair color: Brunette

Eye shape: Milky

Eye color: Purple

Complexion: Early wrinkles

Face size: Narrow

Voice type: Screeching

Foot size: Women’s 7

Tattoo(s): None

Scar(s): Facial bruises

Any other identifying mark(s): Missing teeth

=========================================

SOCIO / ECONOMIC / POLITICAL

=========================================

Political Affiliation: Unaffiliated

Economic Class: Drifter

Social Class: Impoverished

Occupation: Drifter

Income: Whatever she begs for

Residence: None

Transportation: Feet

=========================================

INTERESTS

=========================================

Favorite Food(s): Bananas and apple sauce

Favorite Sport: Doesn’t watch sports

Favorite Book: Can’t read

Favorite Show: TV isn’t a thing yet

Favorite Music: Violin

Favorite Colors: Gray and black

Clothing Style / Preferences: Torn leather vest, dirty pants, and ripped sandals

Hobbies: Playing pool, using recreational drugs, and throwing darts

Role Model(s): The voices in her head

Likes: Sunny days and lying on the beach

Dislikes: Rainy weather and having to sleep in garbage bins

=========================================

PERSONALITY

=========================================

Good Qualities / Trait(s): Potential for creativity and storytelling skills

Vices / Negative Trait(s): Schizophrenia, universal distrust, quick anger, and addiction

Strengths: Good fighter, intimidating, and strong survival instincts

Weaknesses: Criticism, legitimate authority, submitting to head voices, abandonment trauma

Habits / Idiosyncrasies / Quirks: Shaking and head snapping

Phobia / Fears: Getting too attached only to be let down again

Loves: Independence and disrespecting authority

Hates: Llewellyn Xavier, her sister, her parents, and anybody who tries to help her

Select one personality type below that best describes your character:

Originator (ENFP) – Inventive and idea people. Love to argue to show off their skills and intelligence. Prefers the startup phase of a project where the risks and problems are greater, than turning over the lead to someone else once these are solved. Enthusiastic, idealistic, and creative. Great people skills. Excited by new ideas, but bored with details. Open-minded and flexible, and able to make others enthusiastic over their ideas and projects.

Define your character’s personality based on the following aspects:

a. Physically: Offensive appearance and poor hygiene

b. Psychologically: Psychotic and brash

c. Spiritually: Worships the voices in her head and doesn’t want to lose her “last friends left”

d. Emotionally: Quick to anger and cries easily out of frustration

e. Socially: Llewellyn pities her and wants to help while most Morgan Town citizens despise her

=========================================

HISTORY

=========================================

1. Describe the character’s childhood. Bijou spent most of her life in poverty due to her mother being locked up in Morgan Town and her sister selling out to the Atwood Queendom. The trauma and self-blame led her to developing schizophrenia and drifting from town to town without a life plan. She has a strong distrust of anybody who would dare take her “friends” away.

2. Name the good incidents that have happened in the character’s life. How has this shaped her personality? Before her sister abandoned her, they would play with dolls together and that shaped Bijou’s creative potential (which eventually went to waste).

3. Name bad experiences that have happened in the character’s life. How has this shaped her personality? Abandonment led to trauma and psychosis, which in turn led to a mass distrust of anybody getting near her. Her distrust was validated in the form of beatings from Morgan Town’s snobby citizens when she asked them for money.

4. What is the character doing when first introduced? What are her goals at this point? Do these goals change at any point in the story? Bijou reluctantly attends a Magetan sermon conducted by Llewellyn and has an episode at the end of it. Her goal is to survive another day on her own without help from her elven brethren. The goal changes to wanting to assassinate Llewellyn for what Bijou describes as “smothering behavior”.

=========================================

STORY DEVELOPMENT:

=========================================

CHARACTER ARCHETYPE: (Put an X on all applicable boxes)

[X] Addict (Conspicuous Consumer, Glutton, Workaholic–see also Gambler)

[X] Antagonist (Opposing View, not necessarily the Evil Bad — see also Villain)

[X] Beggar (Homeless person/ Indigent)

[X] Saboteur

[X] Seeker (Wanderer, Vagabond, Nomad)

[X] Storyteller (Minstrel, Narrator)

[X] Thief (Swindler, Con Artist, Pickpocket, Burglar, Robin Hood)

[X] Trickster (Puck, Provocateur)

[X] Turncoat

[X] Victim

[X] Villain / Shadow (Big Bad of the story; see also Antagonist)

1. What are the motivations for the character’s actions? The voices in her head and a strong distrust of everyone around her.

2. What are the character’s goals / ambition / dreams? To survive another day and prove that she can make it on her own, that she never needed Juliet or anyone else.

3. What external conflicts would you wish for the character to overcome? What are the obstacles in the character’s path that might make this difficult? Find a way to assassinate Llewellyn Xavier. She can’t, because she knows she’ll be caught and forced to go to therapy.

4. What inner conflicts would you wish for the character to overcome? What are the obstacles in the character’s path that might make this difficult? Pleasing her head voices. They’re so negative that they’re never really satisfied and it’s a continuous cycle of anger and abuse.

Character theme song: “My Own Hell” by Five Finger Death Punch

Held Down

The dying candlelight in the sky shone through Duane Root’s barred window and sizzled his eyes like bacon and eggs. The tighter he closed them, the more green and purple clouds swirled in his dark vision. The C clamp on his head seemed to crack his skull with how tightly it pushed his brains together. The hairy demonic arms that held him down in his quicksand bed squeezed every last breath of air out of his already exhausted body. What was the point of fighting his self-imposed bondage? What was the point of getting out of bed for a day that was going to end as quickly as it began?

Using what little freedom he had left in his arm, Duane shielded his eyes with his hand and tried to read his obnoxious grandfather clock with blurry vision. He knew he slept long enough to justify a coffin instead of a bed. But when he saw the time read five o’clock at night, he cursed to himself and slumped defeated into his crushing, yet strangely comfortable bed. “I have to go to work tomorrow…I hate work…I should just sleep in again…”

Surrendering to the tightening arms and the bone-snapping head vice would have been the easy way out. Easy was how Duane liked things. What wasn’t easy was the rumbling in his tummy that seemed to drum against his barely visible ribcage. “Jesus Christ…” he muttered into an uncaring universe. “I’d kill for a pizza right now.” With the weakness paralyzing his body, he wished he was the target of his would-be pizza murder. In a way, hunger was a murderer of its own, but its methods were slow and torturous. “What a shitty way to die…”

Duane fought and struggled to free himself from the demonic arms, but it was like losing a wrestling match to a dormant elephant sitting on his already inflamed ribs. He struggled some more, not out of love for life, but out of love for whatever was rotting in his fridge and needed to be eaten. His strength diminished with every tug against the arms. His brains liquefied against the vice grip. It would have been easy to just to give up and only allow his corporate masters to free him for a twelve-hour day of even more torture.

But after a few more squeezes and squirms, Duane freed himself from the monstrous arms, which subsequently crawled by their bladed fingers underneath his box-spring. Duane even managed to rip the vice off of his greasy, partially-bloody hair. Winning that championship wrestling match from hell didn’t take nearly as much out of him as sitting up on his butt. His head swirled like a tornado ripping his synapses apart. He was sure he was about to have a stroke. His stomach even rebelled against him despite not having anything to puke up in the first place.

After a few deep breaths, Duane Root’s equilibrium returned to him and his stomach calmed down. The green and purple eye fog blew away in these mini-breezes from his lungs. He could see again. But what he saw drained all hope from his already sloppy brain. The sun was descending underneath the horizon. The cobwebs in the corners of his room accumulated. The sticky floor clung to his naked feet with every step he took. His pajama pants and dirt-covered Pearl Jam shirt could have put him back to sleep with how musty they smelled.

The way Duane walked across his bedroom floor reflected how exhausted he was by everything around him. It was a zombie crawl on two legs. It was death being propped up with skinny twigs. It was an act of self-mutilation just to take another step out into the kitchen. But step into the kitchen he did. In case climbing one mountain of filth wasn’t enough, the mountain got even taller when he saw how many dishes were piled up in his sink. The demonic worms crawled across them, eating away at crusted egg stains and snickering at him with rancid food between their bladed teeth.

“Okay, Duane, you can do this…right?” There may have been a microsecond when he was capable, but when he turned on the faucet and saw that green slime poured out, he sighed and hunched over as though nothing he did had a point to it. He languidly nudged the faucet while the demon worms bathed and chugged at the viscous goo.

“I don’t need dishes anyways. I’ll just eat with my hands, I don’t give a shit.” He opened the fridge and gazed at the options with despair and anguish. There was a bucket of Kentucky Fried Tarantulas that needed to be finished. There was a McBlowfish sandwich that started to grow mushrooms. There was a Snickers bar that looked like it was birthed out of an ogre’s ass. And to drink he had a bottle of beer that looked like a dragon pissed in it or a jug of milk that deserved its own funeral.

“Fuck!” screamed Duane with a scratchy throat as he slammed the refrigerator door shut and slumped down to his butt. He tucked his head in his hands and allowed them to collect his greasy tears. “I just…I just…I just want life to be fun again…I want to actually want to live…I want my friends back…I want my mom back…I don’t want to live here anymore…I hate this place…”

“There, there, now,” said a ghostly voice, following up with a pat on Duane’s shoulder. He didn’t bother looking up to see who it was, but like everyone told him before, it was all in his head, right? “How can I put this in a way that even you can understand? I know!” The ghostly voice coughed less like it was clearing its throat and more like it was trying to vomit himself inside out. Duane still didn’t pick his head up. “If it makes you feel any better…other people have it worse than you do.”

“Fuck you…”

“It’s true, Duane. At least you have food in your fridge. A child in Africa can’t say the same. Neither can any woman in Saudi Arabia or Afghanistan. There’s more to life than just your sadness. There’s more to the world than the little microcosm you’ve fashioned for yourself. Just pick your head up and smile for a change. Nobody ever got anything done by frowning all the time and being miserable.”

Duane finally picked his head up and saw nobody there. He shrugged his aching shoulders and took the advice to smile…but his headache from the earlier vice grip made that a painful task. Smiling wasn’t the only thing that was painful. So was contrasting his plight to children in Africa or women in the Middle East. Everything was painful to Duane. Every twitch of his finger. Every step across the sticky floor. Every breath he took just sucked the wind out of him some more. “I…I want life to be fun again…” The gulf couldn’t be wider between what he wanted and what he would get.

He took a few more agonized breaths, but this time with anger shielding him from stomach pain. He grabbed the refrigerator door handle to pull himself to his wobbly legs. He looked at the world around him and hated everything in it. His fists clenched painfully as he wanted to destroy everything in his sight. He wanted to smash the worms. He wanted to throw the faucet slime against his windows. He wanted to tip the refrigerator over and stomp on his disgusting food. But just imagining these things sent more shockwaves of pain through his body…and just like that his rage devolved into more tears.

“Why does everything have to suck so much?” he asked the apathetic void. “I want life to be fun again!” But if it couldn’t be, he would rip open his silverware drawer and look for any weapon he could find. A knife? A fork? An even bigger knife that had demon worms crawling all over it? A wooden soup spoon that had its edges eaten off, probably by the aforementioned demon worms?

Duane shuffled his hand through the drawer and pulled out anything and everything that could help him. The sharpest objects he could find were not sharp enough. He needed something strong. He needed something that could cut through misery as through it were butter. He needed…a secret key?

He pulled the key out and stared at it with confusion. Was it supposed to start his car? Was it supposed to lock his house? It was too small to be either of those things. He then rushed to the bathroom, sticky floor pounding against his heels like war drums. He ignored the demon worms crawling on his walls and unlocked the medicine cabinet. Surely, these pills would be more effective than a sharp knife. Less blood, that was for sure. He rifled through the pills. Immodium? Asprin? Tylenol? No. An orange bottle with a barely readable label.

Duane opened it with shaky hands and poured a few tablets onto the sink. He turned on the faucet and more green slime poured out, but he didn’t care. He filled his coffee-stained glass with it and used it to swallow the pills he laid out. Strangely enough, the green slime…tasted like regular water. The demon worms were just mediocre wall paper designs. The floor was just sticky because he spilled food on it days prior.

“I did it…I remembered to take them…” In a microcosm full of darkness and horror, these pills couldn’t be confused for Hocus Pocus or black magic. They were antidepressants. He forgot to take them over the past few days. He was so wrapped up thinking his microcosm was the shittiest place on earth that taking his medicine just…slipped his mind. It was a mind that was no longer sloshing around in his head like moldy Jello. And when he returned to his bedroom, the hairy demonic arms were just an afghan that his mother gave him. The quicksand was just broken foam.

Upon clearing out his fucked up head, he remembered another phrase that no ghostly voice would ever tell him: “One day at a time.” It made perfect sense. He didn’t have to do everything at once. The cobwebs could wait another day. The dirty dishes weren’t going anywhere. Tomorrow was a work day, one that would likely be stressful enough to make him forget to take his pills again. But then again…”One day at a time.” And then Duane plopped down on his mother’s afghan, breathing sighs of relief that didn’t feel like punches to his gut.

“You got this, Duane...just go to work tomorrow…and figure out everything later…You can do this…”

“No, you can’t!” said the ghostly voice, which was greeted with a middle finger from the man it tormented.

Social Media Vacation

Hey, everyone. Starting tonight, I’m going to take a two-week vacation from social media. This includes Good Reads, Deviant Art, Face Book, Twitter, and You Tube. I’m hoping this will help recalibrate me after spending so much time doom-scrolling and consuming horrible news. If it’s affecting my mental health in the way I think it is, then two weeks away will be sufficient. When I eventually return, I’m probably going to have an ass-ton of notifications on all of my sites. I won’t be able to answer them all if that’s the case. Thanks for understanding and I’ll see you again on July 18th. Until then, take care, everyone.