── your past becomes your god

[lol]

what would it feel like to tell the truth about yourself to someone?

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i would hope in due time to live somewhere far away from where i reside now. i picture a glacier of a south side beach. the house i live in docks right on the sand leading up to the salty waves. the veranda of the residency is caved with a circular white railing- providing enough circumference in the center to relax. minimal beach tables, chaise longues, and occasional hammocks would be spotted on this porch. at one of the tables, i'd have a typewriter set up and probably a disarray of left over cups. i'd spend most of my day out on this porch. writing, painting, observing the sunny skies or mellow waves. i'd walk my dog(s) on the sand dunes of a heated afternoon. my hair would be long, wispy, and careless- i'd be careless... everything would be tucked right underneath my thumb. i wouldn't need anyone or anything, just as long as i had my beach house on the south side of the planet.

some beach pictures to get obsessed with...

[lol]

it's not me, myself, and i
it's me, you, and i

[lol]

when someone asks you, "how are you?"
please respond with, "well! i'm quite well."
responding with "good" not only rubs me the wrong way, but it's not grammatically correct
people pick up on that way too often, and i've realized that holding a better etiquette is better than sounding sleazy
so please, when someone asks you, "how are you?"
you respond with "well. i'm quite well."

[lol]

i will remember our final moments together like gambler's luck.
i was downstairs with you, helping you through your post seizure shenanigans; although, this time, your breathing was off and prominently painful. i won't forget how you kept making your rounds to stick by me. you didn't hop up onto the couch to get to my mom, and you didn't go to your doggy bed to lay down— you came to me. so, i obliged. petting you behind your ears the way that you like it, and tried fending for your pain- your suffering because i knew something was amiss. i told her anakin, i tried to. maybe if we got you to the vet sooner... maybe if we saw it coming faster...
maybes won't cut it. it's too late now. you're gone, my snuggle bear. hopefully drifting through nirvana and hitting ecstasy waves up in heaven. the news i received this morning felt so... so off? i didn't believe it when i heard it. i even foolishly looked around the house for you until i realized that your heavy breathing, french-bulldog snores were gone. now we have a still and silent house. i won't cry... not too much i would hope. i just hate that we lost you so soon. you were inconsiderably young when we found out about your seizures. you should've had a more eminent life of fun and playful dog-fighting. but, alas, i should try thinking about this in an entirely different way.
you're no longer suffering. the activities you couldn't participate in, being kept up in the middle of the night going through pains, those seizures— you no longer have to go through that. you can do whatever you want now and i'm happy that you can... i just wish you were here because without a doubt, i miss you.

well... rest well anakin. i will countlessly remember you as one of the best dogs to snuggle with as well as sit in the sun with. i hope that you will be able to enjoy your afterlife in heaven... goodbye angel.

[lol]

WORD BANK [words that i have to use at least once within this short lil story of mine ] : mid-peal, sluiced, ochre, and catkins

long, ballistic yowls of mixed winds and howls of the night maneuvered the foreign cowboy deeper into the woods. it was darker than darker, and yet, django kept trailing. he wasn't going to make it back to his campsite on time, but he was fine. he was a big boy— not even a little snake bite could prompt him off. distilling his ochre friesian mare, the rogue tilted his head north before allowing it to drop. he was exhausted. after a day of riding out to town, stumbling across several different townsfolk, and navigating himself back without running into predators— it was safe to say that django wanted to rest. oily locks of taft blonde hair curled back around his tanned neck. sleep, sleep, sleep... it was all he could think about. taut fingers placid around his horse's reigns had scolded back, forcing his mare to come to another halt. he spotted a bivouac that was far more luxurious than he needed. thank god his luck hadn't completely run off on him. clicking his tongue to the roof of his mouth, he slid off of val (his horse), and started to set up his makeshift camp for the night. concentrated bistre hues provided to keep peeled open for a short while. after getting a fire going and sitting back, he ruffled a hand back through his thick hair, and dipped his hat forward. tomorrow morning, he would take the creel out and gather some fish for the folk back home. as the night's moon dipped on in a larghetto fashion, django soon found himself in a deep stir. nothin' could wake him up right now; well, or so he thought.

a crow, caught in mid-peal had sounded off the early morning mountains with a caw of disapproval. after several calls from the aggravating corvid, the cowboy was soon to huffing and groaning under his breath. the blonde had a track record for sleeping in until the late afternoon, but to be woken up in the bare morning was... unheard of. it must've been a sign. growing wary of his surroundings, django slid off his hat that was covering his face and placed it back on his head. he needed to make quick work of his morning, but he was still adjusting to the "early-rising lifestyle". his warm-clothed body prosed forward slowly in an attempt to stand himself up. what was he supposed to do this morning?... oh, right, fish. dusting himself off, django swayed himself over towards val who was in the middle of keeping guard. "mornin' sweetheart. keepin' your eyes peeled for me? ya didn't hafta..." he cooed, bruised fingers up keeping back through her mane in some sort of praise. val was one tough horse, nonetheless, she did have a soft spot towards her owner's praises. the blonde stripped his hat off his head and instead compliantly placed it upon his mare's head as he dug through his bag for a creel.

"keep guardin' the campsite for me girl. i'll be back soon." spinning around, he sauntered his way towards nature's calling. the skies were set heavy and humid. the cricking and ticking of fellow locus were like music to the cowboy's ears. every now and again, his lower tricep would brush against pesky catkins. the one thing that he enjoyed as an outlaw was being able to live through the nature on his day-to-day life. not many preferred this sort of lifestyle, but django was an avid lover of the outdoors. halting at the sight of a downstream river, the male squatted downwards and used some of the water to sluice his face. it felt good to wash off all the doubt and dust from the day before. sitting himself back, he reeled out his line, and waited... seconds became minutes, minutes became hours, and hours became too long for the impatient django. he had only caught three fish— he decided he was lucky enough to catch what he was able to catch. he called it a morning. closing the creel shut, he started his way back towards the makeshift bivouac. the outlaw was a bit disappointed in himself for not being able to round up more food for the camp, but the caught trawl would have to do.

being greeted by a frisky val, the male almost forgot that he had left his cowboy hat on top of the mare. she didn't mind though. to a resounding huff, django loaded up the creel, the fishing line, and grabbed for his hat. it was time to go back. he didn't want to be stuck out here for another night. hopping onto the friesian, he cocked back the reigns and allotted her into a swift canter. if... the cowboy was correct, he should be rather close to his actual campsite. he already knew that the gang must've been agitated with him (again) for running off. the blonde didn't see it as 'running off' though, it was just time away from the camp doing jobs that nobody else was willing to do. what, was he really going to sit back and let everyone starve? they didn't understand that though... they just presumed that he didn't want to be apart of the group anymore. damn, who would've thought there'd be so much drama surrounding a bunch of grown-up cowboys?

not django, nor val.

[lol]

some of y'all kept requesting for more adventures of django. so... here we are. enjoy you cowboy cowards.
GANG: eudora [♀] & euell [♂], jesse [♂], shirley [♀], ruth [♀], pearl [♀], maybelle [♀], lenora [♀], colt [♂], ambrose [♂], alonzo [♂], and django [♂]

the skittish trail back to camp was utterly unwinding and hopeless. he felt as if he was riding straight into despair. of course, he wouldn't admit that to anyone but himself (and maybe valentine), but his camp life was becoming more and more incorrigible. the time gap for being able to leave camp was... impossible. it felt as if everyone had knives pressed against each others backs— waiting for the perfect moment to strike. django on the other hand, was just riding the tsunami of denial and hate. perhaps euell wouldn't understand as gang leader, but, he valued his camp life far more than any of the newcomers. it was always that eudora going off and tattling on everyone and everything. she managed to obtain brownie points from her brother... how damn annoying. with a jostle of his sweaty shoulders, he turned his head to see the tiny camp come into view. val stilted her long legs by the horse fence as django took his time dismounting her properly. ever since the cowboy bought the friesian, she had become more ill-witted and slow moving. he didn't want to sell her— she was his pride and joy, but maybe this rough lifestyle wasn't for her. the first face he managed to see was shirley's. she wore a scowl upon her worn features, only for it to sour out a bit more. "django... i thought you was dead." her voice was colder than usual. golly, what happened this time? and who said he was dead?...

"eudora told us. we was all believing it too. i grew used to the idea that maybe you was dead. where the hell have you been?!" django flinched only for a passing second just for his features to flatten out into a hard boiled smirk. "oh come on now shirley... i was out providing for youse all. nothing but what? two days. i wouldn't leave you guys even if the forest was on fire, now come on," he purred, eyes hanging low as he tipped his hat back. shirley was temperamental and... well, easy to manipulate. someone like eudora could say the craziest of things and be believed in. the white woman tilted her head upwards as she profusely cursed under her breath. long strands of her dark auburn hair met her bare neck. "leave it to you to butter up my heart django... you should probably go and see euell. ever since his sister told us the 'news', he's been acting kinda weird. keeps saying things like, 'we oughta be sorry for how things turned out', and 'django was the only person in camp to understand him'. go talk to him... he should be in his tent." with a heavy change of moods, the herder was suddenly stiff. why in the world was euell acting like that? did he really believe his sister? biting down on his lip in full concentration, he hadn't made realization that pearl entered the conversation. "by the skin of my teeth, is that django? thank the lord... i was praying for you, saying grace and all that. just means that eudora's news was all wrong. she says such sinful things, don't cha agree shirley? i mean, she will just go on and on about..."

tuned out and long forgotten, django stormed over towards euell's tent. he had enough of his sister's treatment towards him... part of him thinks that due to her nasty presence in the gang, it's one of the reasons as to why he's been wanting to leave camp so badly. no... no, he had that all wrong. he was leaving camp to get stuff for the gang, not because of eudora. slipping in between the thin curtains of the tent, his eyes maneuvered around the large set-up before seeing a restless euell. "hey, euell, hate to disturb you, but i wanted to tell you that i ain't dead and your sist—" he was suddenly cut off with sleepy mumbles. "no, no... not there. i thought youse was better than that. please, not him eudora—" confused by his gang leader's sleep talking, he placed one firm hand on the older male's shoulder only to shake him up a little bit. "euell, pstt, wake up sleepy head. i'm sure youse gotten more than forty winks. now.. get up!" django used his free hand to remove his hat and swat the sleeping platinum blonde haired man awake. "i'm up! i'm up! for god's sakes, what is it?" one of euell's hands motioned over his tired honeyed hues to rub at while the younger cowboy took a step back. "i thought you was dead considering how deep of a sleep you was in. you alright euell?" he inquired with a bit of a skip in his tone as he playfully twisted up the whole 'dead news' in his sentence.

"w-what? who... oh! django. django? youse alive? but... eudora told us all that you was dead. i mean, two days, two days django! you must've been going at it like killing snakes out there. what happened to ya?" now euell was awake and at full attention. uncomfortably shifting in the large tent, django didn't really know what to say. why was it that the gang leader was doubting his intentions for the campsite? was he really that unreliable? "i was out... gettin' us materials. i brought home some food for lenora and nostrum for ambrose. t'was all i was doin' these last few days. i was pert near, but not plumb. got stopped a bit up north because of—" he got cut off mid-explanation as euell tsked. "t'was all you was doin'? i could've had ambrose out there doin' a better job than you. now you oughta think about it this way django. i cannot risk losing you. out of anybody here, besides my sister of course, i don't want to lose you." there was a still silence that wafted throughout the tent, and minimally, the blonde cowboy felt flushed. euell didn't want to lose him? what did that mean?

"sure... i hear you loud and clear, but maybe next time, don't have your sister tellin' the camp false news? i'll see you around." without managing to get caught up in another lecture, django left the tent, and stood alone for a solid second. drama was the only thing that followed this camp. he could barely seem to stand it at this point. the idea that everyone got along equally felt like such a dream... how terrible.

[lol]

i've come to the conclusion that not a single part of this year has been deductible for me. i've been on a very slow decline and i'm sure everyone else is battling their own battles, but that's just it. due to everyone (generalizing, i apologize) having their own issues, i'm bottling up more than ever. i can't spare the idea that having to lecture, complain, and cry to someone else right now would be the right move. i feel so misplaced. so, so, so misplaced. i've learned more about myself during these last two months than ever, and it's starting to ware me down. everyone is worn down.
i've made two grave mistakes in the timespan of this year as well. i don't think i'm going to forget them for awhile— in fact, they're going to haunt me. yes. . . another thing to add to my impending list of degeneracy. i keep telling myself that i need to branch out and talk to others so i won't feel alone for whatever reasons, but my anxiety would rather me sit in a dark, complacent closet. i'm sure everyone is in full agreement that none of this is fun. the idea of self-isolation. . . god. it's a fear of mine. to be alone. to be stranded. to be left behind in an ill-lit room. i guess the irony behind this is that i don't fear the pandemic brewing outside my house, but i fear the idea of being alone. i know. . . all of it is backwards.
i'd like to think that this post is a way of saying, "hey, please message me! please, tell me to talk to others," but alas, i'm not really sure what to conclude from writing all of this. maybe it's the start of a long-awaited vent just wanting to shift gears into full-speed. who. . . knows. if you've made it this far into the post, thank you. it comforts me knowing that someone else is here. i'm not alone. god, i'm not alone.

[lol]

it's late, but i figured i should write out what i'm feeling right now...
i'm stressed. i'm sure that word doesn't hold much weight with what's going on currently, but i'm beyond apprehensive. people are waiting on me to respond to messages that have been sinking to the bottom of my aquarium. they're the tidepool getting crushed by my heavy rock attitude. i'm sorry. i don't quite know where i'm at right now, but... i'm trying to figure it out. the overwhelming amount of support almost has me too exhausted— too bared with answers i already know i'm going to get.
maybe i'm tired of hearing the same lines... over and over and over again. trusting with my problems only to get advice straight off the bat. consider this, maybe i don't want nor need your advice? why do you think i'm avalanching my problems to you? i don't need advice, i just need someone to listen. i'm sick and exhausted of the people who can think miles and miles away from what i'm trying to say. if you want to be here for me... please heed my vents and take it by the ever-growing stem. i'm not here for advice that i can get from a baby.
i'm also feeling ill. i don't know where this came from... no, i'll give myself credit where it's due— i've overworked myself. i've been working so, so, so hard lately. i've just been trying to pivot out of my six foot grave of a truth only to be met with the same reality. it hurts. as much as a sore throat in the middle of a hot summer. i feel like i can barely shout or scream. nonetheless, i can't figure out when to sleep and when to wake up. i keep thinking if i'm on schedule with where i'm at in the week as well as my sleep schedule— that'd be the right direction for self-improvement. news flash!: nothing is improving hahahaha.
you must be wondering... is there anything positive going on in your life right now? there has to be something. you seriously didn't sit up at one in the morning just to complain about world-wide issues right?
................................ ......... .............................. ..................................... ......................... ............ goodnight.

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i've had a twinset of lamps ever since i was a child that i still use up until now. they've provided me with light and nonetheless prove their duty as a lamp. now. . . i don't use them very often. i rarely turn them on. i find comfort sitting in the dark rather than having on an abrasive lamp, but lately— i've been using them more often. i don't know what it is or what it was for that matter, but having them on has surrogated huge relief. morning after morning, day after day, and night after night. . . they were constantly on; just until four days ago. this very day has marked the first of many incoming hysterical meltdowns that i haven't fed into for months. on that same day, the lightbulbs to my lamps went out. now, you might be wondering— how the hell does two lightbulbs go out on the same day without being used for years? i have NO idea. without getting too metaphorical, i'd like to think that the twinset lamps represent where i am in my life right now. barely used- barely known or touched only for a fleeting moment of validation from other people. all for it to come crashing down and meddle with my life. as i've stated before. . . i had a hysterical meltdown on what would be friday, may eighth. my body hasn't shredded through so much agony in months. it wouldn't have been that memorable for the fact that my lamps didn't go out on the same day. they were as burnt out as me, but the thing is— i'm still going. my unusable lamps now have no purpose as they don't fulfill their jobs, but me? i can keep going. sure, i have to sleep roughly eight hours a day to recharge, but. . .

in clarity, i don't think i'll ever fully burn out.