Woe Is Me - Part 1

A nail on the head, the mirror shatters

I haven't done any writing today I don't want to be bitter about it, but we spent way too many time together my great friend Pedro Augusto, please go home for today, I am so tired and the only thing I want from the bottom of my heart is to sleep.

the passage of time is something greater than any achievement man could ever make, I run in direction to a wall, my whole life is knowing I will splatter my noggin on the bricks and concrete, while running is the thing I long to do, the wall approaches me nonetheless, I sit in the ground, the blue sky overhead now shadowed by inevitable, I refuse to move, but no matter, time follows its course, and I am smashed

I really appreciate my body, I trained so well, I plan to make good use for it in the future

I don't remember the times I ever wrote, I wonder why I don't do ot anymore? I usedy old cellphone after a very long time, and it had all this notes from things I started, things I planned, but never finished. I want to write more, I think the harness around my neck makes me tremble at the sight of true blood, the expression of art, I know not of the ways of artists, for no matter how much the heart longs to join in their ranks, I fail, I utterly fail to achieve anything of notice, to do anything worth remembering, I want to be an artist, but I don't seem to be making a lot of art.

why is my thumb hurting? bitch, I am a lefty, what can I even do with my right hand to make it this way.

I am trying to sleep

but I really not being very successful in this endeavor, like, I am really struggling to close this eyes of mine, and just having some shut eye

Apparently I wrote About a dark timeline for me

Let me set the record straight, I am quite the lonely person you know, every relationship I ever had I have failed to maintain them. In my childhood to my early adult day, no person has followed me to an end of a transitional stage, but I guess that is fine by me, life must go on and I really didn't hate the path that I did take, just in the morning before I take my meds I feel that throbbing ache in my chest, demanding so much more that I am willing to provide, asking for things that just thinking about the effort it would take was enough to make me despondent with despair, and so I lived my life, desperate for a change in my life and unwilling to change it, until that damned phone call came in.

It was the early hours of Sunday and I had spent the night before awake browsing the internet for something distracting, something that would make me feel less numb inside, which made me lie awake untill 5 am. It was barely six when the phone rang on the table side, the urge that I felt to just throw against the wall, to punish the device for keeping me from my rest, but it wasn't a pesky alarm, no, no Sunday of mine would be tainted by one of those, it was a call from my sister.

I felt half awake as I picked the call, I slept through the first two apparently as the message displayed, but what I got on the other end wasn't the angry yells as usual when I miss her call, instead, she said no words. I could hear faint sobbing coming from my phone, it woke me up like an adrenaline injection, something was very wrong.

- Helena, are you alright?

Fuck, are you stupid? Of course she is not fucking alright, is your brain for decoration for fuck sake!

- Pedro, Please, come to the hospital, mom is not doing okay and we need you here.

.. don't know what to do, I haven't seen he for what, 8 years now? Not even she was diagnosed with cancer. I just couldn't face her, not in her fragile state, not when I left with all those grand promises just to show up like the true failure that I really am. But, this really isn't about me is it. A coat and slippers is all that I need as I get into the car, in the highway to them, 800 km stands between us. There I found the answer to longevity.

Looking back I see that time is a funny thing, the more desperate and dreading you are, the longer it takes to pass. Maybe that was the mistakes of the person who found the fountain of youth, they mistook drowning for living as painful decades must have passed in those few seconds underwater. Just as I found myself, I was drowning in time, and what a cursed existence it truly was.

But I got to the hospital, it was night already as storm clouds came rolling in, well, if that isn't foreboding, but I steeled myself for what was to come, Right foot, left foot, there I went, and there I left myself, to never return, as my body went home, my mind never left that sterile uncaring hospital, and to this day, I can't get rid of the images, cruel is the father above who let this suffering of a cruel world fester on the just, beyond recognition lay my mother, wrecked by her illness, she looked nothing like the woman in my memory, she looked gaunt and feeble, her gaze held the same spark she carried with herself in her whole life, but it shone dimmer through clouded eyes, as she was kept on morphine while her body was ravaged by lancinating pain, I could not look at her any longer as it felt my heart was being wrenched from the hands of guilt, I left them, I lost the chance to spend the good days with her, and now her figure was maddening to me, I couldn't bear it, so I killed myself.

The end

Not really, I just got tired from writing this useless prompt, I can feel my heart sinking as I realize, I probably threw up the anti depressant, and the hair growth pill, I can't waste resources like that, Don't be stupid in this way okay? Follow my lead and you will be beautiful, in mind and body, I will train you to be a word smith, an artisan of prose and narrative, the moulder of the most fascinating three d characters and well rounded fantastic worlds, but for that means, you must hear me pal, I just want to help you, and you know that you truly need help don't you? Well, so I will do it, I will be the voice to push you further, to get you into writing once again, to get you a nice well toned body that you will feel no shame to show to your love, I will guide you along the way and even with the mental health aspect I will be there for you, I will keep company to you when you feel insecure and unloved, when you feel anxious, I will be there to hold your hand, when you feel like giving up, I will hug you, hug you so hard all your problems will disapear in the warmth of my embrace, and so, I am your guide, your guide to a better version of you, the best version of you, and now, your first mission as a follower of the path of greatness is, to wash the dishes

Task complete, but now I realize that for this to work, I need an invocation, to call forth my guide, my path is peril and my knowledge fragmented, I call forth the one and truly guide, the force that comes from the inside, the all knowing entity that lives at the back of my brain, I just want to be free of worry and doubt, since I have chosen a hard unknow path to follow alone, all by myself, my quest at the outskirts of societal norms for a person of my age, as I look for a way to develop my creative abilities, as be it writing or even drawing, I know not how to deal with those beautiful feelings, they feel like gold glittering and shining from inside out, I wish to touch the material, but as I try to extract to the physical world, it seems to crumble into dusty rusted metal plates, and as my huge expectations are constantly failed to be met, it seems as if my dear beautiful creativity sits in waiting, for the day I finally engage fully with her, I am a whole gay man, but creativity is the only lady I dearly wish would love me from the bottom of her heart, to grace with her wondrous gifts, but obviously she is no shallow mistress, oh no no no, she appreciates hard work over everything else, the harder you work the harder she engages with you, her tapestry work is the greatest, so beautiful, so majestic, and with each gift, she shows the images for you to make it for yourself, she holds at arms length l, just a finger out of reach, but so she challenges you, she has this gift weaved just for you, the image just resonates with something so primal inside of you, so you need to work for it, you have infinite wool and a myriad of colors to choose from, she sits with a relaxed smile, her legs crossed in a sign of patience, she hates people wasting her time, so she urges you while the mystic lasts, for once she gets bored of it, the glitter turns to grime and you are left with something that dampens your progress when you fail to work your ideas out, might be just a simple processes of extracting them, like writing down, so even though she might feel like not wasting her best work on you, she will always show her botched projects tapestry to work late when your skill is better developed, but maybe that is just asking for the absolute worst, because those not filled projects linger in your mind with their imperfection, itching to be filled with your vision, and sometimes, just when You think you understand how the process works, sometimes, she just leaves, she is a busy woman, while you try to find yourself, she went to look for the absolute best of the best.

But you want to be the best of the best, don't you? So you will have to work the hardest you ever worked, try as hard as you can and it will not be enough, but just a reminding, don't about impressing girls, when weaving is just way more fun, even if is from the ground up

Be Gay, Do Art

Just a reminder for myself, I am too lazy to spend life in jail

Books are the only thing that brings me joy nowadays, you would think that at the peak of my teenage years, those hormones would kick in overdrive and I would become the bad boy protagonist of my own rom com, I did too, to this day I am waiting to wake up in a leather jacket and a gel covered mullet, but nowadays, I feel so empty nowadays that I look forward to the end of the day just so that I can get to my bed, and sleep myself into oblivion, good time those, when I am not awake.


But when I don’t have to deal with the soul crushing pressure of school, or more specific, when I decide to ignore it to do something more interesting, I would always pick a book that picked my fancy and read it in the abandoned water tower until it became time to go back home.


There is just something so… soothing about slipping out of my own reality and into theirs, while I live in the head of the protagonist, watching the story unfold with many twists and turns, filled with emotions that I fail to make on my own, it is fucking magical, I wish books would never end, and I could live their lifes until the end of my own.


But like all good things, stories do tend to end, and not gonna lie, I am pretty sure that I end in a grieving process when it does. Like, the little energy that I have is sapped completely in the effort to heal my broken heart. I don’t even want to get out of bed in a world where that story dies, because no matter how many times I re read it, the magic is gone.


So, like an addict, I just decided to jump to story from story until I completely forgot about my Own existence, like, yeah, that fucker there, never knew it, is he dead or alive? does it matter, he wouldn’t have amount to much in either way, so lets forget him, there is golden kamui to be read.


Now I rarely read stories till the end, I just jump to the next one to avoid the aching, to be always filled by something you know, but now, that I have a chance to do this year all over again, I decided to make something more with my life, I wonder what would that be.


The story of a child who had more luck than brains, I am that child, I wish I wasn’t, but the fact is that I am just so goddamn lucky, and at the same time a breath takinly moron, like, dear lord

\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_

I will let my spirit drown into the sound, who cares about sense or coherence, I want to lose myself into the words, who cares about logic, Kafkas shore is about a magical rabbit or some shit like that, I can’t Murakami's works, the smell of -Incel- wafting through the pages activates my gag reflexes.

 I made Plato's Deep Fried Fish of Chicken, a story about the lovingly tragic romance of two dogs to the moon, they would howl to it, trying to imitate the worship of their wolf ancestors, but would sorely fail to engrace themselves to the moon goddess


a society of animals, but unlike goddamn beast stars, they will be not furry bait, just a society made for intelligent animals with the body of animals, that would be fun


Two dogs love the moon, they can’t help it, it is in their blood, the howling burning in their veins, but their twisted bloodlines, they have lost the touch of the woods, the smoke clods their veins like thick oil, they smell like burning, the moon would never look kindly to the beings of slaughter of the tree folk


the moon seeks balance, the Quiron city seeks to destroy it, the moon obsessed dogs them, to engraciete themselves to the moon, decided to destroy the city of burning embers and smoke, I have no idea if I will ever look back at this story, but damn it all if it wouldn’t be a funny thing to make, the dogs being dogs, would obviously be two complete himbos, like, it is not even a question if they are going to be smart or not, their are not thinking with their brains, they are thinking with their bones or something

Well, look at me in this dark black room, my head is aching, my eyes are tired and sometimes the thoughts of my actions swirl in my head writhing in agony over my mistakes, so I wonder, what do I want for me? Do I really want to be a writer? Not wanting to bash myself over the head if such a heavy question, but tour actions clearly say otherwise, for a writer isn't just enough to write? Let the words flown freely of your head, let the heavy pressure in your skull dissipate and the dark thoughts get cleared by the power of productivity.

Happiness is just so little steps away you don't even need to jog, but even then, as easier as just pulling one cellphones with the sole intuit of putting words to thoughts are apparently mortifying for myself, I know not what I would have to do for this ugly feelings to be extinguished, the feelings of uselessness over the lack of progress. Poor little writer I am, as the words in my mind run drier than the taps of an abandoned building, my soul is a cracked window of which can't stop the cold wind from invading this house, it freezes me ti the bone and inaction becomes the norm, do I really truly over anything that is sacred plan on going on this path? I want to be happy, I want to never have to feel this ugly feelings, to be able to cry and clean myself from all this negative energy, but I struggle, I have no strength to lift my wary heavy arms

As the weight of all those expectations melt away in a sea of nothingness, swallowed byt the dark void of space, I can finally feel myself breath, It is not who I am, I try to tell myself to no avail, I should have made a better use of my time, but I guess it is too late now

I can't regret any of my decisions, those are permanent scars, etched into the body of my very soul, forming the core of my very being, each choice another talon on the block of cinder of the being I am shaping myself to be.

I want to be a Picasso painting made 3d, something like that would surely sooth my body of any worries I could have, since no matter the problem, I would be the most complicated thing in the room, so nothing would scare me anymore,

I look tp write until tiredness swallow me whole, I had so much work done today, but none in a meaningful direction, instead, it was more a scatter brained approach, chasing all the ideas that I had and not settling for anything, but I guess that is good this way? Instead of settling for one project and writing half paragraph and settling down for the day as I take this small achievement as a finished job for the day, it is better than to just write a hundred paragraphs for all different hundred fiction, but it is going to be tricky to juggle all this projects at once

But I did a little of Office job, a lot of Child Prodigy, a small leeway of Plan B a d a brand new idea worked into the barest of bones using prompts from different places, and even know, the writting is still being done, and I have a lot to thank for that, I am slowly improving, and soon enough I know I will start making money, and for that, I am certain that is the path I wish to follow

I want to be a content creator, a fantasy writer, a person capable of following my dreams, somebody that for once can you stop to wallow in dark feelings and do the things I want done, I want to be good, I want to write, write more words than there is in my heart, I want to hammer those emotional walls preventing me from achieving the success I am capable of, and is sure to be great as long I am willing to put the effort, I didn't even spent a single hour on a giving project I don't believe I am properly conveying my conviction to this cause


Bitch, I am going to go fucking blind

I lam going to start to feel cold any time now, I am living my homeless homo kid ejected from home after coming out of the closet fantasy, the sun is just rising at my back, I am in a skate ramp, I find so... endearing the way there is a lot of movement on the streets, even though the sky is still dark, I think those people are going home after a night shift, because I doubt any respectable job would ask their employees to wake at 5 am to start working, unless they are self employed, god nows how that works, you give yourself the salary, you can take the holidays that you want, no stress, I know there is a lot of other factors, such as, I don't know, lack of security? that is not very good having to starve myself so that I don't go in debt.

you know what I most sad right now? this cellphone here, it has only 2 musics, and one is whatever it takes, by imagine dragons, god, I really should learn a efficient method to download illegal music, and by illegal, I mean acquired illegally, illegal music would be, I don't know, WAP? Well, if my country was Saudi Arabia then sure, Brazil really has a lousy sense on what they consider inappropriate, like, god forbid sexual education on schools, but keep blasting funk on the streets, I had classmates that were like that. I like funk, I am not an hypocrite though, children should be able to know what kind of violence they might be subjected to, and learning that drinking a can of coke is not enough to prevent herpes, that kind of stuff, you know?

I told you I have only 2 songs, I can write without any music, but it is kind of a bummer, I tend to stew too much on my own head without any kind of rhytm, so, while I am writing this here, whatever that I am even writing to begin with,I am just having that other music, on repeat, over and over again, I don't hate it though, so I am alright with it playing in repeat, I kinda don't like the silence, like, at all, my thoughts sour way more easily than milk, and that is kind of sad, I am sad most of the time, since I can't process my emotions in a very healthy way, I am trying to teach myself to feel attraction to the human body, by that I mean the male human body, because I am gay.

than you might ask "if you have to teach yourself to like it, doesn't it mean that you are not truly gay?" and by that, I will tell you, maybe? I am not too sure myself on the details of how my mind works, but I remember being 13 and just being way too horny for gay porn, like, the face didn't matter, as long the person had a big fat cock and balls, I was on board, I fapped my days way to gay porn, I still do it to this day, but it is not the same anymore, I will try to explain what happened that made me kind of... I don't know, mentally constipated? before I would interact way more, like, imagining myself between their legs, being spit roasted, those kind of things, my mind was way more engaged with what was going on the screen back on those days, nowadays, it feels like there is a block of cinder between me and the porn, like, I cum all the same, but it really, is not what used to be. I guess it boils down to my difficulties to imagining myself having a relationship and sex.

and I think that might be related with my low self esteem? I think the time that I really started to distance myself emotionally from porn was after I came out to my mom, and she took it kinda bad, it could be worse, she could have thrown me on the street, but she scared the crap out of me, said my father would never accept me and to not tell to anybody, that was kinda... traumatic, I really wish things would have been different

Daddy Issues

I guess I can really up my word count in this cellphone, who would've thought it to be possible, I have a thousand words when it comes to unbottling the problems that I still have, like, all the things that I have holding me back, but well, I wonder if I have the maturity to express them, like I for sure don't feel very comfortable doing the things that need to be done you know, I have a lot of things that may keep me at night, but as much as it gives me a certain amount of anxiety, I guess I can't really bring myself to regret my decision, like, really, I really can't no matter how much thought I put on it, I can only feel that I would regret it if I hadn't done it, like, it is so obvious to me that this here was a great choice, like, no matter how I think about it, cutting school has stopped those hard ugly feelings I had in my chest you know, I really stopped being so anxious if that is of any help, I guess I really needed this long break, I don't really regret it, like, this decision doesn't make my heart sink in that way that a phone call would made, because at the end, I am not truly escaping the situation, no, I guess I am just postponing the inevitable.

but in the mean time I don't really plan, I will start taking anti depressants for here on out, I don't know how well I will fare, but I really believe it is going to be a push in the right direction Is just to think his name it gives me the strength to open this app to write, like, now that is some next level pettiness, maybe that was all that I needed, not gonna lie, disappointed on the whole Emma Frost origins, like, god, how shitty was that, I am quite appalled, but be it so.

I am thinking, since my father tried to act like we were on good terms while I still have anger towards him just made me more angry, so, since engaging with would only make act in that childish way, like, fuck the guy, since he was not going to take my feelings seriously, I guess I kinda of simply refrained from interacting with him at all, we were not on good terms when he left, he think time would heal our mangled ties? I guess it kinda of did, I am finally starting to heal that father shaped hole in my heart, You see, the reason of why I refrained from getting closer to my own father was simply because I was afraid, you see, my sexuality is kinda of taboo in this country and the news on tv sure didn't help, like, with all the gay people being kicked out of their houses by their family.

My father never gave me the reassurance that I so much needed, he was quite the opposite actually, every time I thought about mending our relationship he would always do something that kinda of confirmed my worries you see, once I put a way too tight jeans, it must have been switched my moms or something, and he blew up, like screamed and said that no son of his would wear "calça de viado" so, so you see, I clammed up, if I had my father in arms length prior to this incident, now I threw him far away from me, deep in the shelves and out of my sight, I kinda of just gave up of ever having a good relationship with the guy.

I still had tolerance for him, since in theory he was supposed to make my mom happy, but I guess that not even that waste of human being was capable of, the bare minimum, but no, his wife wasn't enough since he came for my mother but his lust proved insatiable since that lascivious man still chased for an ass more fatter, 2 wasn't enough for that crapula, no he needed three at the same time, he must have thought of himself as being this Maraja with his royal harem, and so, he cheated his mistress and wife with a fucking whore of a woman, she had 5 children (the youngest was still older than me, but she had a whole ass family), and left with my dad after he was booted from our lives. fucking hate the both of them and pity his wife more than I resent him for my mother, poor woman, at least she has two adult son and daughter to take care of her.

I guess I had some daddy issues of sorts, I may need some addressing, but overall, he was a deadbeat father anyway, a parasite with only the ability to feed from us, sleeping all day and before his shift, going to his real family, I hope he drops dead in the middle of a highway.


Deep longing

It says to write about the thing you want the most, and I don't know what it could be, or I do.

I want to be understood, I want to be relieved of my worries, I want to stop feeling so damn lonely.

I want company, I want friends, I want love, I want to be successful, I want to have will to do the hard things in life, I want patience to become a writer.

I want time, I want so much time that it hurts

I want to stop having crippling fear of what could be

I want to will my dreams into existence

I don't want to be a poet or bard nor scribe, I want write

Something meaningful, but I have no meaning in my life, a romance when I never loved, I have a string of problems wrapping tightly around my neck, I have only the desire to scream, I want to run so far into the dark and plunge myself headfirst into the cold abyss where my time could be stopped and I could rest for the rest of eternity.

The walls of ice, made by myself, crumbled down over my head, the thorns by the side of my castle, growing past their normal size, ecroaching, encroachin, no size amount of small problems, side size scream, write, write, write until something good has comen out, but I don't know when something good will come out

I wonder what do I have that others writers have not

There is something in my chest that needs to be given rise, something fighting to sprout, I am struggling so hard to come up with anything on my own, no matter how much I want to be a writer, until I write, nothing will come to pass

My smile was wider than the peaches on the tree, and just as sweet, I could barely contain my excitement, at the sight of said mound of flesh, I could only feel the gripping sensation of flesh, backing me to taste it, to push it further into my tongue

I want space, I want to run, I want to hide, to crumble up and become dust, i want to start breathing once again, I look for the answer to my woes and discovered that the true problem has been me all along, all my problems seems to have me at the root.

I want to scream loudly to the fields of wheat that I will not grown, I will not let

Should I kill my ideas?

I kill you, idea of villains, you crumble to dust and becomes nothing, hand all your characters at the exit.


Did I got fed up from writing in my computer

like, I was writing like a beast in the month of April, so, like, I think that my writing has greatly decreased since them, also, I think that I am quite fed up with the creation process in my computer, I really want to do something else than What I should be doing

If you stay too late at night, instead of sleeping, you hear a knocking in your window....

it might be a lost bottom who strayed away from the hookup spot, please, show him the way, he is too tired from all the walking

What am I gonna write? I have to write for 30 minutes, so, it should be something good, or at least something decent,

I still can't believe I was accepted for this great job opportunity. here I stand in the middle of a bog city, with huge sky scrapers and a gray sky. not to out myself as a country bumpkin, but I never saw buildings as big as this ines are, like, for real, they are massive, I look at them as they pierce the clouds, way beyond where my vision can reach, and I still can't see the end of them, it makes me feel a little... I don't know, insignificant? at the sheer scope of everything, I just feel so very very tiny.

But I got my suit, got my tie, got a bag to put files in case I need to bring work home, and brought a positive outlook

Disclaimer

lets go, I am handing you my expectations, they crumble to ash, burning away into oblivion, it is something that I have to hold myself from doing, reading the work of others, I have to control my jealousy and disappointment from rearing their ugly heads when I try to write anything and it is just not better than what other people have written, I read that you are not a writer until you write 1 million words, I am looking at all the words that were made by me, and realize that most of them are ramblings of my life and things of the like, I wish I could consider them anything but worthless, bit that is what they are, everything that I have written are all worthless junk.

I want to start writing the real things, I need to start writing for Real, unless I begin writing the things that need to be written, they will not appear out of thin air.

I will create a folder named Stories, each note will be a story, about something, I am not too sure about it yet, but what I know for sure is that, I have to keep writing, and one day, I will be big enough to bear the weight of my own ideas, and until then, I just gotta to keep trying, over and over and over, the weight, dumbbells and stuff, I wanna be a renowned writer, I want to be the kind of person who can write Re Trailer Trash level of stuff

Em português

Meu vocabulário em português não possui nem um pouco do peso que possui em inglês

Me pergunto se falar meus sentimentos em português tem mais peso do que em inglês

Eu não tenho velocidade para escrever assim desse jeito, eu quero falar de forma mais ampla e veloz, mas ta que nem tirar melaço de uma jarra de vidro que tava no freezer, quanto mais as palavras eu tento fazer sair, mais eu percebo o quão futil é

Well, as good as that may have sounded of an idea, I have internalized Brazilphobia, may you look at my face and spit while you are at it, I don't even recognize you, look at this car wreck your life is going under, aren't you ashamed of it, you want good, I will I will show good after smashing that head of yours with a fucking brick.

:p

For goodness sake

I finally found the book to free me of my shackles, I write as if a old haggard nun disillusioned with world is right beside me and through words alone I have to prevent her from losing faith in humanity, my grammatic is thrash, my vocabulary also, I have no qualms with my writing because I didn't started writing yet, for goodness sake, I am so stilted, I am so stiff and hot and hard but also so blue balled by myself, where the depths of my souls were to be poured into paper for an audience to read, would be the same as getting rawed by porcupines anal beads, I am not I vulgar man I said feebly trying to convince myself, but the whole reason that I even trying to fucking write is because I am so fucking tired of this amount of shit that are fantasy books, sci fi books and every single book ever, Yes they are crap, they are shit? They are not fulfilling not even in the slightest and I am so hungry, I am so thirsty, I am so desperate for a good gay protagonist, A great relationship in scene, a momentum filled sex scenes that would be written with a throbbing hardon during each passing second, but If I continue with my shitty rhythm, my writing will not improve, my writing will probably not even reach the top charts that I so desire, I am writing this shit here because I am so tired of trying to reason myself to like current books, but I can't, I fucking can't and I fucking hate it, I am a child for goodness sake, I have wants and need, and the whole plateau of literary creation there is no single order of words capable of bring me fucking joy and happiness? I scroll through a infinite catalogue of fantasy with shit just oozing from the thumbnail, my momentum is strong when I talk shit about other books, but like, fuck them, I am literally an starved man who lived his whole life without being able to be satisfied, there was dishes that seemed to have the right ingredients, but the production, the execution and sometimes even the fucking shitty author behind it is to blame, so that is why I need to write

I NEED TO TAKE MATTERS INTO MY OWN HANDS, I NEED TO DO BETTER THAN ALL THOSE METH HEADS

LIKE, REALLY, THE BEST REPRESENTATION I COULD GET OF A GAY COUPLE IN MY 13 TO 14 YEARS WAS A MANGA ABOUT INCESTUOUS BROTHERS WERE THE OLDEST TAKES FROM THEIR ABUSIVE FATHER AND PHYSICALLY AND SEXUALLY ASSAULTS THE YOUNGER BROTHER.

EVERYTHING FROM THE EAST PERTAINING GAY PEOPLE IS SO DEEPLY AND FUCKING WARPED, LIKE, I FUCKING HATE MANHWAS, WERE IS JUTS SEX SEX SEX SEX, LIKE, GO DO SOMETHING ELSE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, TELL ME A GOOD STORY, SNOW WHITE WOULD DO AT THIS POINT I AM STARVING.

NOT LIKE THE WEST IS ANY BETTER AT REPRESENTATION

"YOU NEED TO BE INCLUSIVE, YOU MUST WRITE LGBTQ CHARACTERS AND OTHER MINORITIES IN YOUR STORY BECAUSE THAT IS REALITY AND PEOPLE NEED TO FEEL REPRESENTED...." YOUR TANNED ABS FUCK BOY WHO IS PINING FOR THE SHEET PAPER WHITE BLONDE PETITE GIRL IS DOING NOTHING NEW... AH BUT HER FRIEND IS SASSY BLACK GAY MAN, HE IS IN A STABLE RELATIONSHIP... SO WHAT YOUR PIECE OF TRASH THAT WEARS THE HUMAN CLOAK TO BLEND INTO HUMANITY BUT IN THRUTH YOUR SOLE PURPOSE OS TO LEECH AWAY ANY AND EACH DROP OF MY DWINDELLING SANITY, I NEED A GAY PROTAGONIST, I COULDN'T FUCKING CARE LESS ABOUT YOUR SAD STEREOTYPE OF A GAY BFF WHO IS THERE SOLELY TO SUPPORT YOUR SHITTY PROTAGONIST AND EARN YOU FUCKING BROWNIE POINTS FOR INCLUSIVITY, I DON'T WANT TO BE TOXIC I DON'T WANNA TO BE THE TRASH FROM THE INTERNET THAT I KNOW 4CHAN TO BE, BUT WHY, WHY GOODNESS SAKE THOSE PEOPLE ARE THE ONES TO WRITE SUCH GREAT MASTERPIECES? I AM JEALOUS, I AM JEALOUS, DO THEY DESERVE THEIR FUCKING SUCCESS NO, I DESERVE THEIR FUCKING SUCCESS, THAT'S IT, AM GONNA FUCKING WORK HARD AND DEVELOP MY FUCKING WRITING SKILL TO THE POINT I CAN JUST POINT MY AUDIENCE TO THESE MOTHERFUCKERS AND SAY... SHRED THEM MOTHERFUCKERS BITCHES ASSHOLES RACIST

I AM SO EXCITED AND SCARED FOR THE FUTURE

WRITING IS EASY, TO PUT WORDS ON PAPER, TO WILL THEM INTO EXISTENCE IS THE MOST BAT SHIT CRAZY EASIEST THING THAT ANY MOTHERFUCKER CAN DO, BUT YOU MUST NOT FUCK WITH MOMENTUM, DO YOU UNDERSTAND MY BELOVED AND CHARISMATIC AND CUTE AND TALENTED AND DARLING OF MYSELF, I KNOW WE GOT THE POWER, WE GOT THE INSIGHT, WE GOT THE SPARKING EMBER POWERFUL ENOUGH TO IGNITE CHANGE IN THIS WORLD, AND BY GOD, I INTEND TO HARNESS THIS SPARK INTO A FUCKING BLAZING INFERNO THAT WILL CONSUME EVERYTHING UNDER THE SUN AND ELIMINATE THE HETERO PROTAGONIST UNTIL THE END OF THE DAYS

This whole rant was written before Heartsopper was launched, I have not watched the show because I think that would be my final straw for sure, guess I didn't know what I wanted. but dang, I was so pressed back in those days, it never was that deep, I will write something for him in the future, gonna send it through time machine.