To Be Read to: [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hHDOWUFoUww]

I feel emotion extremely intensely. Not in a “oh I’m such an empath ;P I can do a palm reading for you” way, more in a “I can’t listen to music with lyrics because too often listening to someone speaking about their experiences in a poetic manner leaves me unable to properly function for too long of a period of time” kind of way. And by unable to properly function I don’t mean “omg, I can’t even right now. I just can’t even right now,” I mean “I’m not finishing this work project due tomorrow because i listened to a song in which a guy talked about his mom in a song he wrote, and I can’t stop crying and thinking about her and the life they lived and lost together and now I have nothing to show at the staff meeting and my friend is blowing up my phone about playing a game I don’t have money for and only care about like two months out of the year and really only play because its an avenue to connection with him when it’s getting harder and harder to connect and all I want to do is give this stranger’s mom the proper reverence to her epitaph she deserves simply for possessing a human soul. To give everyone their proper reference to their epitaph that they deserve simply for possessing a human soul, especially my friend. Especially my mom.”

When I was 17, my dog died. I still cry for him. I’m 26. It’s nowhere near what he deserves, and when I die I can’t guarantee he’ll ever be spoken about again. I don’t know when my mom will die, or my dad. I hope never. I know soon. Grandma and grandpa too. And my other dogs. Even my stuffed bear doesn’t fit through that eye of a needle even though I wish he would. Maybe he does and maybe dogs do go to heaven even though the Church says they aren’t anywhere because they’re of this world not Eru Ilúvatar’s and they’re like the Elves so maybe they’ll go to the west too I don’t know. I’m so fucking scared for them and for the people who don’t have anyone who’s scared for them and for that bug that my girlfriend crushed just because it crawled on her. And even though I was dead and you were dead and yet the wheel is turning and all were drowned in seas of red still the wheel keeps turning aren’t there Shezzarines? Doesn’t the missing god have a say? Don’t the Yokudans know the walkabout? Is not Akatosh mad? And Alduin sane?

It’s actually not that hard to get rid of the hate you feel on a daily basis. But I get why most don’t. Because to do so is to replace it with lamentation for those who can’t lament, or madness. And most people who are ahead don’t want either getting in their way.

So I scroll. At least it numbs it enough to get a couple work projects done, which is all that matters right? None of that other shit really means anything. Right?

The Christ wept before He was even crucified. I can’t imagine why.

[ADMIN NOTE: This piece is the byproduct of playing Rainbow Six Siege, having been written during a period of months of Siege Gaming. Several weeks removed from said period, while these words are still true I would not write them down in such a coherent manner, rather the feelings that spawned them would be latent as opposed to manifest. Let that be a lesson on the mental hazard that is Siege Gaming. In much the way Hemmingway (or your blowhard boomer author of choice (sorry Randir nothing personal, I’m actually enjoying the book I just don’t use goodreads except for Carl books)) had his benders, so too may my readers look back upon my siege forays.]