Seppuku

Let me tell y'alls a little story.

LONG LONG AGO THERE WERE A MAN WHO WANTED HIS SKILL TO BE THE ULTIMATE, BUT BECAUSE OF HIS BLOODY LIFE HE WAS IN THE TROUBLES.

The end.

Let me tell y'alls another story.

When you get old, bad shit starts to happen to you. You look in the mirror and you remember what you used to look like and it depresses you. That is, for a while, until you forget entirely what it is you used to look like, and even looking at old pictures of yourself you don't ever remember looking that way.

You slow down a lot and get weak. You can't lift that box that's been on the top shelf of your closet that you put there ten years ago, so it's just going to stay there until you die. You can't move like you used to, so you don't aimlessly wander around in the grocery store and let the smell and air and bustle relax you: you know what you're going for and you get it and leave.

Sometimes you get cancer through half of your torso, start pissing blood, and lose all control of your bowels. You then proceed to not be able to eat anything for four days, lose about 30 pounds, and end up in the hospital while your wife cries an uncountable number of times a day because she's been with you since she was sixteen years old, only to die alone and heartbroken shortly after you do.

Or maybe that's just in my family, who knows.

The end.

My grandmother would never simply not answer the phone when I call, but I can't get in touch with her anymore. She won't answer. I feel bad because I'm not really calling to be like, "Hey, how's every little thing. Shitty? Oh yeah, I imagine." I'm really calling to try and secure an apartment where she lives and get her to give me a price check on it.

Wouldn't bother her about it, but she sort of, you know, owns the apartment.

I figure I can help with maintenance and crap since my grandfather can't now. Mow the yards, trim the bushes, pick up trash, change lightbulbs for crazy old people, paint rooms, scare children, whatever needs to be done. Dunkel is supposed to be my roommate for this, and since my family loves him more than some of our blood, we'll be getting a discount and therefore he's agreed to help out with stuff as well.

I have at least one job lined up there, which is part of the reason I'm moving. No work here means no income, and no income means I'm draining my bank account. A drained bank account means no Canada, and no Canada means seppuku.

So.

I'm going to move up there. At least it's a little more north. Also, I'm sick of living here. I've been here for what, around four years, and I've got more bad memories than good. I learned a ton here, and I'm ready to take it into the field. Chaos and I being roommates doesn't work because we're both equally as miserable and unmotivated here. Neither of us has a reason to wake up or be productive (or rather, reason enough to make us go out and do so) so we just don't wake up and aren't productive.

His girlfriend is gradually moving in, too. That'd be okay. You know, if I didn't live here. But I do, and she and I have gone from, "Hey, I made too much food, you want to come over and shoot the breeze and eat the rest of this crap...I mean...fine cuisine?" to not even acknowledging that the other person exists. Not in a negative way, just in a weird way.

Come to think of it, though, Chaos and I are getting there too. We'll spend entire days in the same living space and not talk to each other outside of game text messages unless we run into each other in the kitchen.

It's pathetic, and it's depressing.

Probation is supposed to end next month. Actually, it's not supposed to end for another couple of years, but I'm able to have it end next month if the judge isn't a total poon, and I hope it does. Because if it doesn't, then...seppuku.

I used to like sleeping, now I hate it. But I hate being awake too. Meh, you can't be unhappy as easily when you're asleep, but there comes those times when falling asleep on your bed is no different than if you'd just laid down on the floor. That kind of apathy puts a nasty taste in your mouth that you carry with you everywhere and project onto everything you do.

It's also very very old being asked why I don't have a girlfriend. I like to say it's because I'm going to be moving and don't want to start anything, but I'd rather believe it's because even looking upon my form causes mortals to turn to stone rather than bear my visage.

Rawr.

Cups and random bowls can be found all over my desk and sometimes on the floor immediately to the right of it. I try to take stuff back with me when I go to the kitchen, but...quite honestly I don't really care. I've said it a dozen times already, but the place is beyond repair and any efforts at this point to restore it to a state of presentability are futile.

Now I feel bad about life and everything, even seppuku. So I'll tell you another story.

Once upon a time there was a priest who always lost to another priest when they played 'pick a number from 1 to 100.' Sometimes the priest he lost to was a stranger, sometimes he knew him, but he always lost and was very frustrated with how much time he'd wasted.

He decided to stop wasting time losing to the other priests and start killing them instead, then he would be the only one to play 'pick a number' and would always win because he was the only one alive.

He then enlisted with the Silverwing Sentinels and melted people's brains with lasers he shot out of his hands. People began to realize that his power was approaching the ultimate, and decided to send two people at him. That didn't work, so they tried three. When he killed all three at the same time, they tried four. That worked pretty goddamn well, but when he was alive again (he's able to return from the dead because he's just that holy) he was pissed as hell and killed some of them with words alone.

Then he committed seppuku.

The end.