... but i guess it really doesnt matter.  who needs to sleep?   It's over-rated. You miss away too much when you sleep.  You think that everything just stops when you pass out for a number of hours. Not so.  The wheels keep turning, society keeps digging itself a deeper grave, and there are countless indviduals still up and about while you slumber.    The world keeps on it's axis spin, and you are just semi-comatose not to notice.  Then, when you awake, you seem surprised when something occurs that totally surpassed your supervision.  How can that be?  How can something so monumental happen whilst you are passed out?  How dare the components of this sudden change of whatever not notify you to it's subversion? 
That's when you realize the world does not revolve around you.  That's when you know that everything is not all about you, and you feel completely alone for maybe the first time in your life.  And that's what I feel now.  But truly not for the first time. I'm no virgin to this....  

----ok im awake as hell, so I guess I'll bust something out. dont hate me if it doesnt get finished ever.  I never finish anything------


Five weeks.  I've been unable to sleep for five fucking weeks.  I mean there is no reason whatsoever I can't; it's just every time my body hits the bed, I just lay there, totally devoid of thought, just complete fucking wake-fullness.  I'm not stressing, absolutely not.  I just can't sleep.  My body just can't seem to make that transition from awareness to third-stage R.E.M.   I dont know what it is.  I'm not haunted, i'm not depressed;  i'm not anything.  Just supremely, fully awake.  I don't think.  I don't toss and turn.  I just lie there. 
The last time I actually slept, it was raining, I remember that.  I can recall that it was somewhat monsoon-like; rain hittingthe bedroom window in torrents, sounding like God's own water-based machine gun aiming directly at my home. There was no thunder or lightning.  Just the steady beat of rain smacking the window.  I listened to it for a while and I just slipped under like I always had. 
I dont dream when I sleep.  I cant remember the last dream I ever had.  Maybe it was something of a nightmare, something to cause me to wake up suddenly in the middle of the night  soaked in sweat, flailing at imaginary attackers that were fading quick from my mind's eye.  Then I would become more aware of where I was and everything would be ok. 
I recall that night I went to some show; a local band that was alright, but one could tell that they had some room for improvement.  All bands are like that.  A lot of people think a band no matter what genre they stick to, always starts out awesome if they are good.  Not so.  Everyone has to start somewhere, and ususally when they do, they fail horribly.  Or just meet some sub-par level that is acceptable to the masses. 
I remember that night I danced a little, not much, just a bit.  I was rather drunk, and was thankful that I had not driven to this particular venue.  The place was full to the brim, and ususally I cant go into places like that without having a massive freakout.  As I said, I was pretty inebriated, so I believe that's what made the whole experience tolerable.  I had went alone, mainly cause i was bored enough to go and do something without any of my friends.  I think I should've called someone.  Actually, in hindsight, it probably would've been a good idea.....

Alright I've gotten some questions about the guitar thing.  Just recently,  I picked the guitar back up.  When I say 'back'  I mean that when I was a bit younger, I used to try to play, and then I gave up.  So now, i'm trying to learn and re-learn some things, and it is coming along smoothly.  Today, in fact, I actually busted out something that didnt sound like something that I've heard before, that actually sounded really good.  Awesome. 
I am so self-teaching myself, so I know there is  definitely some error in the way I play, but I am glad to say that one of my friends, who is probably one of the best guitar players I have ever heard, showed me some tricks along the lines of finger picking, timing, and a few other things that are actually speeding me up on the basics of the guitar a couple of years back. 
I may be getting ahead of myself though;  instead of trying to play easy classics such as "Smoke on the Water",  and other simple songs, i'm learning songs by Lamb of God, Slipknot, and DevilDriver.  So far I think i've got "Clouds Over California" down. 
But, Yeah, I havent necessarily gave up on writing, it's just right now I havent been inspired enough to write anything, and with the recent crash of my laptop, the longest thing I have ever written is gone with no backup.

So, I think I'll stick it out with the guitar for a bit and see how it plays out.   

I think im just going to sleep all day.  I have to be at workat 12am,  but i think i'll just sleep all day anyway.  it's already beginning to look like a shitty day. 

besides,  i have to save all my strength for the imminent screamfest that'll be coming from my mouth later tonight.  

Be ready for closed-door shouting.  I'm pretty livid.  Thank Jesus for beer or else i'd be putting holes in the walls with my head.   

Lately, I guess you can say that i feel pretty good about myself.  Im not as moody as I was; I'm not as agoraphobic as well, which is a major plus.  I dont feel like I need to spend my entire time inside of one place, as I once was.  I'm glad to be out of Lancaster; I feel like if I hadnt left that the various memories of wasted time there; wasted time with people that truly didnt know me, nor cared, would have eaten me alive.

So, now.  I know who my real friends are from down around that way, and I will still be in contact, as usual .   

I'm glad things have turned out the way they have.  Who knows how long these series of moments will be, but being the pessimistic bastard that I am,  I dont feel it'll long before something happens to put me back where I was.

I mean, lets get something extremely crystal clear, though;   I wont give as easily as before.  I used to really let insignificant, petty, unimportant bullshit get me down.  None of that now. 

No wasting of time. Too much has went by already.  Christ.

I remember sitting in an empty apartment, not empty of things, just company that once was, and I remember hating every second that I sat and hated myself for no reason but for the spite of some twisted, insecure, drama queen. I remember hating myself for all the wrong reasons, when I really should have been hating myself for not growing up. 

It's been an interesting year, kids.  I cant wait to see what happens in the next few months.  

It's been a while. 

I guess I'm moving, kids.  That's correct.  I am moving out of the apartment I've resided in for close to three years (damn...) and relocating to Columbus.  This is both an unexpected and welcome move. I've been trying to formulate a plan for close to a year and a half since I began working at FedEx to get closer to Columbus, and now I finally am able to.  I'll be ten minutes from work, and five minutes to everything else.  Nice.

But part of me is finding it kind of hard to part with my place.  I mean, I've lived there for quite a while by myself, and I've grown quite attached to it, despite my ever-growing hatred of the stupid mall-town that is Lancaster,OH.  To those of you who dont know much about it,  lancaster is nothing more than just a big trendy-town that focuses on putting up business after business while masquerading as a huge mega-christian community that is so hypocritical of itself it isnt even funny.  I hate the town, and I am glad I am leaving.  In the same breath, though, I must say that there are a great many people out there that are probably glad i';m leaving as well.  I cant say I havent made my own fair share of enemies there.  

So whats next?  i dont know for sure.  I'm still horribly single, but I'm finding more and more as time goes on that I really dont care.  It seems that a lot of girls I meet anymore I cant stand within five minutes of meeting them fo r one reason or another, and if thats an indicator of how the opposite sex is shaping up for the future or whatever, then you all can just go on.  Like I told my ex " I'd rather be alone and miserable, than be miserable and want to constantly alone with you".  

Things are getting better.  I can feel it.

For close to three years now, I have been venting all kinds of personal shit and the whatnot on this stupid 'space.  I dont do it to really entertain anyone or whatever, but mainly as a form of release I guess you would say. 

I just want to say that things are going really well right now.  At least, a far cry from what it was this time last year, and this time the year before that.  I still love my job, I'm still trying to finish school, and things are actually beginning to become stable for once.

But it seems like every once and a while, I am reminded by my semi-haunted past.  What I mean by this is that in the past five years I have had two very serious relationships go down the drain either caused by my hand or by other factors.  This weekend I began to wonder if all the various crap I have had to deal with in the last few years was my very own hell on earth for what happened during the first relationship.

I used to date this girl named Jessi.  She lived next door to me at my old apartment in Lancaster, and that's how we met.  Actually, we didnt start talking until after I had screwed around with her roommate (also ironically named Jessi).  We fell in love rather quick, and it wasnt too long after I moved in with her.  We lived together for about a year, until I became rather....stupid. 
It's so true that you never realize what you have until it's fleeting away from you at light speed.  Or when youre pushing it away all in the name of gaining space, which was what I did.  This girl was probably the best thing that ever happened to me, but I was too goddamn stupid and blind to realize it.  She cared for me on a level that I have never felt since,  and I am always constantly reminded that I fucked up majorly when I broke it all off with her. 

This weekend, I received a call from Jessi.  I was at the mall buying new plugs for my ears (I lost one of them down the fucking drain after work saturday morning), and apparently she saw me walking through the food court.  She didnt call me right then or approached me;  she was with her current boyfriend having lunch before she went in to work (she runs one of the stores there at the gay Lancaster mall).  I dont know much about this dude other than 1) she's been with him since her and I broke up, and 2) he sounds like a real douchebag.   Apparently he is one of those uber-controlling types, and she already has a son with him. 

Just to clarify, it's not like this was one of those out-of-nowhere-crazy-once-a-year phone calls people get from loved ones or lost loves occasionally.  We actually phone-tag each other on a semi-seasonal basis.  I've known about her relationship with this guy and some of the other goin-on's aaffiliated with her situation for a while.  When I talk to her, I feel like she's wanting me to dop something or say something or ....well I dont know.  

I'll put it to you like this:  I would drop everything for her.  Even with the fact that she has a kid with this guy.  Even despite that she is now pregnant again.  I would do whatever for her.  Her relationship. it sounds like, is going down the tubes with the her baby dad, and she is trying to find a way out.  I dont know what to say to her, but out of everyone and every realtionship that I have been through, this one is the one I want more than anything to take back, to delete the past mistakes I made by walking away from the absolutely greatest thing I ever had with someone.  I know that's pretty much impossible, but that's how I feel.  And everytime I talk to her, I feel like someone is trying to rip out my beating heart from my chest.  I just dont know how to reconcile.  I mean, we have forgiven each other for the past bullshit, and we have both definitely changed in the past few years into different people, but everytime I see her, or hear her, I just ....well, you know how when youre driving somewhere and you are completely lost, and you dont want to ask anyone directions because you are bound and determined to get to your destination without any outside help?  But ultimately you just end up more lost and then youre late for the important reason that youre trveling in the first place?  That's how I feel, except I feel that I'm so close but I am still miles away in a fog, and I just blew my left front tire. 

I mentioned two relationships prior as to why I feel I'm paying for my mistakes now on earth instead of the afterlife.  I dated a girl considerably younger than I was (mistake 1), who I worked with (mistake2), and also who I went to school with( mistake 3).   All those factors played a part in our subsequent , messy, rumor-rifed break-up.  It didnt help that I was injured at the time I decided to end the whole thing; I was on medications that muddled my thinking, and if I wasnt on those, I was drunk or pursuing other extracurricular's .  So, of course it ended very nastily, with both of us being changed for better or for worse, I dont know, because I dont talk to her or see her at all.    I switched schools to get away from her, and I quit my job to do the same.  I ran away instead of working out the situation and maybe making it more painless than what it was. 

So this weekend ( I like to call this particular weekend "Jonny C's Ex-Girlfriend Extravaganza"), one of my good friend's told me that he had seen her out and about at a gas station with some douchy-tool, and that she had gained some weight.  My first response was laughter.  Then I thought about it and immediately regretted it.  I dont hate the girl at all and I do wish her the best in life, but she is definitely not someone I would want to get back with ever again; she m,ade me realize the true cruelty that soem women are capable of considering the situations I went through after we broke up.  But again Like I said, I dont hate her.  I just take that whole time period as a lesson learned and I hope that she did the same.

I dont really know for sure what prompted me to go on this tirade about a girl, because that's what it's really about, though there are two mentioned. Since her, my relationships have been screwy to say the least, and I have trouble actually formulating, and continuing a decent rapport with most ladies I meet and get involved with.  I get freaked, and my immediate natural response is to run away as far and as fast as I can. 

But I cant help but feel like I ran way from the wrong thing, and now I dont know how I can get it back, because I feel now like I might be able to.  I would just prefer to avoid any domestic disputes.  But I still harbor this strnge feeling that despite it all, in both of our own lives, we were menat to be together and there might be still a faint chance that we still can be. 

OK, this is what I'm working on right now that was unfortunately lost on my hard drive this weekend.  I'm, still working on it but in a more limited, archaic (paper and pen) way.  Warning: it's rough, unedited, ad it probably has a slew of typo's and other grammatical goof-ups.  But I like it, so deal with it.  It's a little long, so.....



(Uselessly Perfect)
pt 1
(David takes a Dive)



One, Two, Three....
Nothing.
Again.
One, Two, Three.
Nothing. Just clicks. They were dry this time, he thinks. No mistake of dropping the live ones into the sink full of dishes again, like last week.
One more time...
One, Two, Three....
Click. Click-Click. Frustration causes David to throw the pistol against the wall. Upon impact, the pistol fires off one single shot that is deafening in the small, one-bedroom apartment.
Shit, David thinks. The neighbors upstairs are home, and they'll probably call the police again.
He picks up the gun, careful to not discharge it again, and removes all the ammo from it. He then wraps the bullets into an old rag that's hanging nearby, and puts them on top of the refrigerator. He can hear people moving and talking in alarmed tones upstairs. He knows he needs to be quick to avoid an embarrassing encounter with the local law enforcement; he stows the pistol, still smoking slightly, into a drawer near the kitchen sink, grabs his keys off the counter and quickly exits the apartment. The neighbors upstairs are quiet now, but he thinks he can almost hear the sound of someone whispering frantically into a telephone, and this just causes him to slip out of the house/ apartment faster. He makes his way down the steps outside his home. For a moment he tries to decide if taking his car would be a good idea, but then the thought of the neighbors upstairs glancing outside to see who might be in the car that's always parked outside Mulberry and Fifth, and actually got the damn thing started for once, might also be the person who fired off that one loud report moments earlier, thus giving the police an accurate description of the resident of apartment four of 525 Fifth St. leaving hurriedly after shots fired from they're residence. No that wouldn't do good at all, considering David did not wish to speak to police about why he was just absently shooting off rounds from an old .45 he stole from his dead father's things two years ago. Not that old dad would miss it, nor anyone else. But he didn't want to talk to anyone about anything that had to do with himself or why he had a gun that wasn't registered to him or anything else that would come up after a cursory search of his residence by the police. He knew that after such a search he would have to talk to some profiler or psychologist employed by the police who would probably uncover what it was that David was up to this particular night: That David Smalls was trying to end his life. And more odd and more interesting after discovering this fact, they would also uncover that David had been trying unsuccessfully to die for almost two years.
David made his way on foot to the busier downtown area of Lanshire, the small suburb of Columbus, Ohio he had lived in for over five years. The older, antiqueish area of Lanshire would be good to take cover in while the police undoubtedly made their way to his home, searching for clues, a body, anything to probably make their otherwise mundane jobs of serving the people of this small, quiet community a little more exciting than usual. It was a Friday night during the first week of July, and every Friday night the citizens of Lanshire would welcome a host of bands from all around to play at their weekly fair that would take up the larger portion of the downtown area that had been around since the Civil War. Nothing too huge; just a gathering of the town's people who had nothing better to do on a Friday night. Mostly it was just old people and kids. They would carry their chairs-in-bags downtown, sit around and listen to the horrible music, in David's opinion, that would always seem to permeate the atmosphere, even if you were locked inside somewhere. Usually it was a country band or some old jazz/swing band; stuff usually that would conform to the senior's interests and not so much the younger crowd. The younger crowd would actually be in their majority down at the Macafee; an Irish-themed bar manned by an old Russian immigrant named Vlad and his wife. But even there, the music from the Friday night fair would cut through the sound system pumping dance beats and rock ballad's down at the Macafee. Thought this mattered not to David; he never went to the Macafee anymore and he wasn't heading there now. Not since the most-recent break-up he went through. The sad thing was is said break-up took place almost two years prior. No, David was just looking for a place to blend in, and the fair looked to be the best spot at the moment considering he was on foot.
The band playing this evening was a little out of the current genre that usually was selected to play. They were a four-piece slow-rock outfit playing mostly covers. They must have been told to play the slowed down versions of songs about lust, drugs, destruction , and partying due to the type of audience they were catering to. The members of the band looked like they would rather be elsewhere. The singer was barely audible, and the rest of the band looked like they were on the losing end of a heroin addiction. David made his way to a section of the closed off area where he could sit. There were benches off to the side close to the stage, and he chose a seat there.
Almost two years, and David Smalls could not die. No matter what he did, he could not end his life. It was almost as if some force was keeping every single bullet, every dose of poison, every noose, every deep knife cut; every single process he knew of to end one's life would not work. This was the second time in the past three months he had tried to blow his brains out to no avail. Last week he had tried a concoction of alcohol and sleeping pills while taking a bath to go out, and ended up puking his guts up for close to three hours. Before that, he had gone so far as to go to an acquaintances home who had a hot tub, and tried to throw a plugged-in stereo in while he was sitting in it. In addition to the stereo, he threw in his cell phone and any other kind of portable electronic device as well. For some odd reason, all the electrical interference caused a fuse or something to go out in the hot tub upon immersion, making the tub useless for David's plans. This led to an angry phone call from the mentioned acquaintance as to why his hot tub no longer worked and why his stereo was ruined. David never returned the phone call.
There had been other times since that David had tried to die but couldn't. He could never figure out why it was he was still here and it brought him more misery by the day. He had tried unsuccessfully in the past to get help medically, but they pretty much just told him that he was just a manic depressive and that he needed medication that he couldn't afford nor wanted. They were quick to dismiss him under these pretenses, and he was always left feeling more miserable knowing that he couldn't get any kind of help from anyone. He had even considered trying out one of those suicide assistance deals, but never knew who to get in contact with. It wasn't like those kind of things were in the phone book next to drug dealers and lawn care services.
He wasn't ready to make the decision that there was something special for him to do in the grand mystical scheme of things until he tried one more option. It was the one thing he was kind of fearful of, though it was odd that a young man who had virtually no fear of dying would find any form of death scary. David's last possible promise of release from this life was to jump off of the 200-ft water tower in outside of town and plummet to the solid concrete ground below. The only thing, David was scared of heights. It wasn't so much the impact of falling that frightened him as it was the fear of that first step off into the void of space between the top and the ground. It was that seemingly instant passing of time falling that frightened him. That in that series of moments between solid footing and solid crashing he would experience his life passing before his eyes; and that in that passing he would regret it all and then it would be too late. He would die knowing he had other choices; other things he could've done, but it would all be for nothing because then he would be no more than a broken body on the ground, twitching out the remaining bits of life he had in him.
The band on stage had taken a break, and David had made up his mind. He would try it out; see if whether or not he could actually do the deed and be done with this life he no longer felt he wanted or wanted him, and if it didn't work, if he lived, he would try to get on with his life and see what it was that fate, destiny, God, Allah, Buddha, or whatever had in mind for him here enough to keep him alive after he so repeatedly and blatantly tried to end it all.
The water tower in question was on the other side of town, a decent 20-minute walk going back the way towards his apartment. He thought it would give him a chance to see if the cops had indeed been called out to his residence and were now investigating his home. He made his way down an alley that ran parallel to his street, listening to the dying tones of the band restarting their set. He couldn't make out the tune they were trying to play; it almost sounded to him like a slow-motion version of Deep Purple's "Highway Star", with a mix of early Pink Floyd. Whatever it was, it was horrible and he was glad to be getting away from it. David continued to make his way down the alley, and then came out of the end to see one cop car outside of his home about half-a-block away. The officer was sitting in the car, probably filling out some kind of report or another. He didn't look to be in any kind of urgent rush to discover a crime. The neighbor, a half-Japanese woman with a baby in her arms, was outside the car telling the officer presumably about the prior occurrences at the residence where she had to call the law out. The cop seemed to be interested in taking down all the information she was giving him, but on the whole he looked bored and probably was more interested in closing out this particular call so he could go back to the station. David quickly made his way across the street to the adjacent alley that would take him near to where the water tower would be, all the while hoping he wouldn't be seen by the neighbor. As she crossed, he half-expected to hear cries of "There he is! There's the crazy guy who's shooting guns inside of home all time!" Followed by the sound of tires screeching and sirens wailing. But, just like his attempts to die, there were no attempts at a chase by the authorities or cries of broken English.

2.

The walk to the water tower was uneventful, and for that David was thankful. He didn't really want any interaction of any kind on his way to his last desperate attempt to die. He just wanted to think a little on his decisions to this point. He wanted to consider the catalyst to the way his life had played out to now. He didn't like to think about it and he didn't want to seem so melodramatic to admit that the reason why he wanted to die, the main excuse as to why he wanted check out so early was because of a girl. He no longer lamented over him losing her, nor did he want her back. He was sad because he believed he had caused her to leave and to become the person that she was now, even though the breakup had occurred two years ago.
Shelly Darcy had been his only true love, and as far as he was concerned, that was fine with him. they had met in college, while he was working towards a degree in business and she had been working towards a degree in gold-digging. Unfortunately he had not found this out until the very end and it had hurt him very much that this was the whole truth of their relationship: that she had planned on him to get his degree and find a good job, and she would just try like hell to get knocked up, leech off of him in the guise of motherhood and being a housewife while she would pursue other avenues of acquiring wealth and sex, more so for the wealth part. But after finding out that David had changed majors (he had longed wanted to be a photographer, and decided mid- education that he wanted to pursue that dream), she launched him and only after a week of being broke up, she was exclusively someone else's, using every opportunity to rub it in his face that she was with someone else and that she would never be his again. This was fine with him until he unexpectedly been called into the Dean of his college's office one day to be told he was the target of an investigation by the school's security for a stalking charge brought forth by Shelly. This was all a lie told by Shelly to try to get back at David for ruining her plans, but David took it all in stride. He did not want to start some kind of battle with her or anyone else, so he told the Dean that, no, he had not been stalking Ms. Darcy, and that the accusations she were making were all lies and that she was just trying to get back at him. He signed a paper saying he would voluntarily leave the school for a period of time during said investigation, and left. He never went back to school, and never finished.
Shelly Darcy was not the main reason why he wanted to die so badly. No, there were plenty of other factors that came into consideration with his wish. He felt that society as a whole was not worth to be part of any longer, and that it was on it's way to a dark end of some sort. He didn't keep up with his family much anymore, not since his dad died, which took place not long after his breakup with Shelly. His father, Dr. Lewis Smalls, was a well respected member of the medical community in central Ohio, and was a very healthy, charitable, kind-hearted, and loving individual. Since David's mother died when he was very young, his dad was the only one around family-wise. His father and him enjoyed a very close relationship until his untimely death at the hands of a 16-year old car jacker in downtown Columbus. Lewis was coming back from a seminar on Cancer Relapse, and had stopped at a light in a quiet intersection. He hadn't been sitting long when a young man approached his vehicle demanding money. Lewis, being the charitable man that he was did not think twice to give this kid some money. He opened his wallet, not knowing that this was his mistake, and quickly gave the gun-wielding kid two crisp new fifties. What Dr. Lewis did not realize that upon opening his wallet he exposed more than what the kid had just been handed, and being that greed lies heavily in the hearts of those desperate enough, the teen angrily asked for the entire wallet. Dr. Smalls saw the light go green finally, shook his head and pushed on the accelerator.
The coroner would determine later that if Lewis hadn't gone when the light turned green the bullet would've missed and would've just broke a window in his car, but instead, upon acceleration, when the kid pulled the trigger, what he should've missed ended up being his target and Dr. Lewis Smalls was shot right underneath the left ear, killing him almost instantly, and if that hadn't done the trick, the telephone pole he subsequently crashed into would've sealed the deal. The sad thing was the kid had gone back to the car retrieved the wallet from the dead man's hand, and left. It was two hours later that the cops finally arrive to the scene. A neighbor in one of the slummy apartments nearby had called the cops about a car horn that had been blaring for close to an hour straight was keeping her form getting to sleep. The assailant wasn't found for two days after. The kid's body was found in a storm drain four blocks away with five .22 caliber bullet holes in his chest and a leather wallet belonging to one Lewis Smalls in his pocket. Apparently after the car jacking he in turn had been jacked by some other hoods in the area, possibly after learning of the high-yielding robbery he had made. No suspects were ever found, and both the boy and the late great Dr. Smalls were laid to rest within a week of each other.
These reasons alone weren't why David wanted to die so fervently. It was everything all together that made life so unbearable for him. He loathed waking up every day. He hated everything. And because of that hate and the unwillingness to proactively do something about it, he chose to find a way to just get out while he was ahead so to speak. As he approached the water tower, he felt that maybe he would actually get it right this time. He just had to get past his fear.
David walked over to the service ladder leading up to the main part of the tower nearly two hundred feet up. He looked up and could see a sort of precipice where he would perch and then step off, plummeting to the ground. With a deep breath , David began his ascent up the ladder. As he climbed he watched the ground slowly recede before him, knowing that soon it would come up to hit him at such a speed that hopefully he wouldn't know what hit him. He began to see the light s of the town spread before him and then he was at the top, surveying everything around and below him. The night sky was full of stars and it seemed like this was just right next to perfect for him. He had no idea what would happen upon his death; if his spirit would be whisked away to the pearly gates and he would be let into heaven because god or whoever would feel sorry for him and let him in, or if he would go to hell to pay for whatever it was he had done in his life to make his existence so unbearable. He didn't care. All he wanted was that his was to be a beautiful, meaningful death. And most importantly this time, that his attempt would work.
David stood upon the precipice of the water tower. He looked down, and that age-old fear of heights came to him. He staggered backwards for a moment and then caught his balance. He began to tell himself that this was it, that it was time, and that this time, nothing would stop his death from happening. He looked down to where he assumed he would land. it was too dark to tell whether it would be concrete or the grassy embankment that would catch his fall and carry him off to the shadow lands. Either way he knew that from this height he would definitely be falling far enough and fast enough to bring about a quick death.
David looked off towards the part of downtown Lanshire where the Friday night band was still crooning out there slow renditions of classic rock ballads. He closed his eyes, concentrating on trying to decipher the wind-cut tones of the song the band was playing. It was too hard to make out, but the beauty of it to him was enough to be considered his swan song as he slowly stretched out one foot into the open air. He closed his eyes and then put more weight onto that outstretched foot, and slowly eased himself out into the warm July air, until he felt nothing but that same air rushing past his face as he fell. He opened his eyes once during his rapid descent, to glimpse the ground rushing up to meet him, then after that it was all black.

3.

David Smalls dreamed. He was in a cafe somewhere in town, though he couldn't recall the name of it. He was having coffee with his father and it was about noon. They were discussing David's current plans at the moment of moving out on his own.
"Dave, you know I don't want you to move out until you've graduated college." He dreams his father is saying, though he knows this is much more than a dream; this is a memory.
" I know dad. I know that living with you rent-free until I graduate would be awesome for me, but I really feel like I should be on my own. You know, get the whole responsibility- experience in early so I can get used to it." David responds. He sips his dream-coffee and can almost taste it's full robust flavor.
"This is about that girl isn't it?" Lewis asks.
A blush. An embarrassed glance at the ground. " Well, I wasn't going to say anything about it, but yeah, part of the reason I want to move out is because Shelly wants to move in with me."
His father sighs. " Davy, look. I like Shelly and all, but don't you think you're rushing things a bit? I mean you've only been together six months, and I already get the feeling that she is trying to harness some kind of control over you. "
David is angered by this. Not only because his dad chose to call him Davy ( a name he did not like) but because his dad still chose to presume that David did not know any better when it came to making choices in his life. This infuriated David more than he liked, and instead of continuing the discussion, David chose to abruptly end it, not knowing that this was the memory of the last conversation David would ever have with his father.
"Dad, I got to go. But I think I will be moving out soon, and Shelly will be moving in with me. Were in love, and that's that. I know what I'm doing, ad I don't need you to tell me what it is that I'm doing wrong or what I'm not doing right." and to add to the statement, maybe to include a bit of vehemence and guile, but not at all with hate, though David would be hating himself afterwards for a long time for saying, " And why should I take advice from someone who hasn't been with anyone since the death of their wife almost twenty years ago?" The look on Lewis Smalls face would haunt David from then on, because he knew that he had hurt his father deeper than what he had wanted but due to the pride he wanted to keep he let it go, and excused himself from the table they were sitting at. " I'll call you later dad , and let you know for sure what's up." His father just sat there a look of sad disbelief on his face, and just nodded.
"Alright David. It's your choice. Just know that no matter what I love you, and I'll support you any way I can. Call me later." And that was the end of David Smalls last conversation with his father because it would be exactly 12 hours later that David would receive the phone call that would begin the next two harrowing years of his life. But this was a dream, and dreams are fickle, uncontrollable things. One never knows what will happen, and in this one, this replay of a turning point in one young man's life things don't go the way as they did in reality. In this, David turns around to apologize to his father, only to find that the cafe they were sitting at in the midday sun, now was just a decrepit piece of property surrounded by a black dreary sky promising nothing more than rain. His father is still there, but as David goes to yell back at him that he is sorry for saying what he had said, he see's his father raise his hand to wave goodbye and Lewis Smalls disintegrates into dust as the first bit of rain begins to fall from the sky.

It was rain, real rain, that brought David back. He felt soft yet firm ground beneath him and raindrops hitting his face. He wasn't sure yet if he was dead, though part of hi in that moment upon awakening that he wasn't dead, because of a stinging pain in hi right leg. It didn't occur to him that once someone dies they don't feel pain any longer; he just lay there not really conscious but becoming more and more aware that he was still alive, and that after so many different times of trying to off himself the one thing that should have worked didn't, and the reality of it all was still out of his grasp. He tested out his limbs one by one slowly. He could move his arms and his hands and his fingers. He raised his head a little and opened his eyes. He watched the rain hit the ground on which he was lying and figured out that he had hit the grassy embankment he had noticed before he stepped off the edge of the water tower. He began to move his legs, but then fiery pain surged upward through his right thigh upon moving. He grimaced an stifled a cry and rolled onto his back. Raindrops hit his face as he gingerly tested out the functionality of his leg. It wasn't broken, but it was definitely injured to some extent. He brought himself to a sitting position, and glanced down at himself. He was covered in mud, and he looked at the imprint of his body in the muddy ground and realized what had happened.
The ground below where he had fallen was visibly waterlogged to such an extent that the water and the mud had softened his impact just enough that he hadn't been killed. No, it had just banged him up a little, but not enough to really do anything life threatening.
"Motherfucker," David said as he looked up at he water tower. It seemed impossible to him that he wasn't dead. That no matter how soft and muddy that embankment was he should have died right there. But the truth was beginning to come to light and it seemed to David Smalls that he could not die, at least not by his own hand.
David brought himself up to his feet slowly. despite the pain in his leg he could walk, though it was hardly more than a shuffle than a walk. He debated going to the ER nearby and getting on some crutches or something, but knew that if he went he would have to explain what had happened and didn't really feel like concocting some lie at that moment. He began to walk towards the direction of his home. He would go to the house, he thought, and take a bath, and think things over.
David shuffled off of the water tower property. It was early morning, and the first few scant rays of light from the rising sun was beginning to fight it's way through the dark clouds. From his guess it was probably around 6 AM, and figured there wouldn't be too much traffic about. He was afraid someone might notice him shuffling home, dirty and looking as if he had been in a car accident or a been a victim of a violent mugging or something. Just one more thing that would require him to answer questions he didn't want to answer. He just wanted to get home and that was all there was to it.
He began his way down the alley he had taken the evening before to get to the water tower, mumbling curses all the way, the brevity of his current situation not really dawning upon him yet. In fact he was already subconsciously plotting another way to try to off himself. What David might have been interested in knowing and what he might have known if he had taken one backwards glance over his shoulder was that he was being followed.

4.

David was hungry. He couldn't remember when he had last eaten, and he knew there wouldn't be anything at the house to eat. He stopped shuffling for a moment, and checked his wallet. He had about twenty - two dollars, so he figured he would stop at the .. market and grab something real quick.
The One Stop was a 24-hour grocery/pharmacy/general merchandise store near David's home. It was on the way, and he knew he could get out of there pretty fast without too much human interaction. There was one of those auto cashier things and he planned on using that. He made his way down the street until he spotted the One Stop's bright lights emanating from the closing in horizon.
He made his way to the parking lot, and noticed two police cars parked near the entrance. He stopped and decided that maybe he would revisit the store after washing up at his place. Maybe he could get the car started, get something to eat, and try driving into a tree at a 100 mph. But for some reason he didn't think it would work and forgot the idea. He turned around and got back on the main drag through town that would take him 5th street and Mulberry.
On his way to his home, he continue to think about what had just happened. He had plunged off a two hundred foot water tower to the ground below and had lived, injured slightly, yes, but not enough to go to the ER. A normal person would have been pleased to be alive and to take it as a sign that they were meant for something or to do something, but David was just angered. He was angry at whatever God that thought it was ok to take away everything in his life that he cared about; he was angry at a force or fate or karmic power that would make his life and the outlook he had on life around him so bad that he wanted so desperately to exit, and check out what the other side might have to offer. If there was an other side at that! He didn't care even if it was nothing but the deep dark blackness of eternal sleep that awaited us all upon our demise. He would have probably embraced that more wholeheartedly than an afterlife of some sort. Perhaps the inhabitants of that unknown place were more detestable and worse than those around him. Who knows? Surely not David who couldn't find death if it was right on his heels. David, who for two long years had tried in almost every way possible to end hi life could not find any release no matter what.
On his way a few blocks away from the store, David recalled his first attempt at ending his life. It was right after his bitter separation from Shelly Darcy, which, subsequently had followed his father's murder in the streets of Columbus. She had moved all of her stuff out then that week, only after six months of living with David. The first four were great; they had always gone out together, relishing the time they had . On any given night during the week, they would be spotted at the Macaffee, having drinks with friends from school. They were rarely at home unless it was evening or a Sunday, which they would spend lounging around in their underwear in bed all day. Thoughts like these still hurt David very much, especially the memories of their lovemaking for hours on end on these Sundays, those lazy days when they were still in love and things hadn't been too bad, though he was still reeling from the loss of his father. He felt in those days that he still had people who cared about him and that would never leave him. He felt he had a love that would be his for life, and that she would stay with him through whatever had came their way. But it would turn out that his wasn't to be, and things soon became the way they are and he became the person he never thought he would be. A bitter, suicidal loner who had nothing left to live for in his life.
David's first time trying to die was to be a simple one. He came home from his part-time job that he was no longer employed at, as a an attendant at a nearby golf course, and drew a bath with the intentions of cutting his wrists and just slipping away. That day at work he made no sign of distress, in fact people he worked with had commented that he seemed to be taking everything that was going on in his life quite well. He would simply reply that he was going to get on with his life and not dwell on all the negativity. But he knew when he got home he was going to take a steak knife from the kitchen in his apartment, and take his last bath.
But this would prove not to be the case, of course. He drew the bath, and got in. He had the knife in his right hand and with just a moments hesitation, he took it across his left wrist in the way he had read about in books and how he had seen in movies. He made two cuts in the form of a ragged cross on his left arm, and then he switched hands painfully and cut his other wrist the same way. He let the knife drop from his hand in to the water and he laid back in the tub, waiting to pass out.
He eventually did pass out from the blood loss e suffered. But for some reason, he didn't lose quite enough to die, because his wound eventually clotted on their own, veins and all. David came to approximately four hours later in a tub full of bloody water.
For a few weeks afterward he had to cover his arms with bandages so no one would see what he had done. Not too long after wards, he quit his job at the golf course and began to live off of his inheritance from his dad.
David didn't really have to worry about money. His father had left him everything including his home. David did not want the house because every time after his fathers death that he would go in it, he was stricken with such sadness that he didn't want to be there. so He sold it through a realtor friend of the families, and was done with it. The rest of the money he just kept in an account at the local bank.
David was just about to his house when he was struck by the odd feeling that he wasn't alone; that he was being watched. He looked around to see if there was anyone there, but saw no one. He couldn't quite shake the feeling, but he made his way to his house, and went through the back door.
There was no evidence that the cops had been there the previous evening. the e door wasn't kicked in nor was there a note or any other kind of sign of a police prescience. He unlocked the door to his apartment, and went inside, locking it behind him.
When he was inside, he made note that everything was the way it was when he left the evening before. The bullets were still wrape in the rag, and the gun was where he had pput it. He breathed a sigh of relief. the police last night must have just stopped ,taken a report, and left; disregarding the complaint after discovering that non one was home and that what the ladyupstairs had heard must have been a car backfiring or something, nothing more.
David walked into the living room. Before he could turn on the light, a voice from the dim spoke.
"Mr. Smalls, I need to have a word with you regarding the incident at the water tower this evening."


5.
David was ready to turn and run, but before he could, the voice ended all ambition to do so.
"And just so you know, I do have a gun pointed right at you, so I would juststay right where you are, young man." a pause. "Go ahead and turn on that light."
David did as instructed. He turned and faced the man that possessed the voice. Standing before him was a man with a pistol pointed right at him. He was middle-aged, slim, and had strnge, intense eyes. His graying blond hair was combed over possibly to contain a bald spot, but David wasnt sure. He defintiely looked like a cop though, that David was very sure of.
"Who are you?" David asked. The man looked him over real quick to make sure that he wasnt going to run, then he gestured for David to sit in a chair nearby with the barrel of the gun.
"I'm Detective Steve Founders of the Lanshire police department, Special Crimes Unit. I 've been watching you for a while, Mr. Smalls." As he said this the detective produced his badge for David's inspection. After doing so, Det. Founders continued.
"I was assigned to you after your father's murder. You were flagged by the university as being an individual who might possibly be inclined to do something along the lines of school violence. In other words the university felt that you were a dangerous individual capable of killing off some students one day in a spontaneous fit of rage. " the detective said.
David was dumbfounded. "I dont get it. What the hell are you talking about? I mean, if I m under arrest here, go ahead and charge me with something or piss off. "
"Listen, I'm not here to arrest you, David." Responded Founders. "I am here if anything to help you. The school did what it did to some new initiative to combat school violence by studentsbefore it can take place. They assess students and decide if they are a possible threat. It's actually very comonplace. The only reason you were assigned to me was not just because of your father's murder and your emotional reactin to it, but also by some of things a Ms. Shelly Darcy said to certain member of staff at the university."
David couldnt believe it. Fucking Shelly. That bitch. He never had one thought to start some violence during that whole time after his father's murder when his life turned into a complete hell before his eyes. What was going on here? Then, a thought came to David, and it made his blood run cold. How long has he been on me, and just how close has he got? It was obvious that the detective had been witness to his attempt off of the water tower, but if he had seen him do that, wouldnt he have called the squad to get him to the ER?
Not if he knew. Not if Detective Founders was privy to the secret fact that no matter how hard David Smalls tried, he just could not die.
"Detective, I'm still trying to cme to grips with all this, but I need to know just howlong have you been watching me?" David asked.
Founders pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket. He lit one, and offered one to David. He delined and then the detective went on. "David, I've been watching you since your dad's death. I've seen it all, man. Your girl leaving you and the subsequent mess that came after that. See, Dave, I dont think that you are any kind of threat to the school. I could have stopped watching you."
He hit his smoke.
"But you proved to be more interesting than anything the university thought you would be. "
David wasnt sure what he was feeling at the moment. Apprehensive, sure, but it seemed that Detective Founders was actually being nice, but he knew that cops are trained to act this way to get what they need off of suspects. David Smalls was considered by Founders to be indeed a legitiamate threat not only to the school, but the town, and quite possibly the state.
"Smalls, I saw you jump off of that water tower last night. I saw you hit the ground, and your body crumple. I waited to see if you were actually dead. " He finished his cigarette, and put it out on his shoe then placing it into an open pop bottle on the coffee table beside them. " And then, just like Lazarus you rose from the seemingly dead, and walked to the One Stop, and hightailed it back here when you saw patrol's out in the parking lot."
David was becoming very sure that the apprehensiveness was there for a reason. the more that Founders talked, he was becoming less nicer by the minute, and sounding more and more maniacal. It was as if his secret knowledge of David's plight was something of some wonder and excitement to Founders. David was becoming afraid.
"So I knew you would be coming back here. I let my self in the other door, and just sat right on down. Then loa and behold there you are!" He laughed good-heartedly for a moment, then regained his former composure. " But I bet youre wondering whats going to happen next arent you? I can see it on your face." Once the detective said this, he motioned for David to stand up.
"Hold still, will ya kid?" David, not knowing what to expect and that's when after a swift movement of Founders arm, he felt a large blade go in and out of his ribcage. Pain filled his midsection and then he doubled over, his eyes blurrign form tears. He could make out Founders moving away across the room to watch what would happen. David thought for a brief moment that he might actually get what he wanted by the hands of another, but as that thought hit him, he felt as if there was something inside of him, knitting the wound in his chest. His eyes cleared as he lay on the floor, and he looked as his chest slowly stopped bleeding on it's own. He was shocked. Founders was behind the living room couch staring in disbelief.
David was still reeling fom this new occurence. But as he lay there, realization dawned on him. He could leave when he wanted to. He didnt have to stay. He couldnt seeminly die, so what of it. Let Founders shoot him. He wanted death anyhow. Yearned for it. He got up.
Founders raised his gun. "Dont move, Sally. I will shoot. All I wanted was to talk and to try out my theory. Now, I am friends with some people that can help you, and maybe help you make a littl money on the side with your uhm ability."
David shook his head. "I'm not going to be used for anyhting Detective. I dont know what the hell is wrong with me any more than you do, and I am not going to anyone's puppet. Regardless of money." This was certain. David wanted nothing of money, cars, whatever. He just wanted death.
" David you act like you have a choice in the matter. I'm taking you in to speak to some doctors. After that were gong to try to help you anyway that we can. If you try to run , you will be chased your entire life. I am not the only one who knows of your ability. There are some very powerful individuals who have their eye on you currently. " Said Founders.
"PIss off. I 'm leaving." And with that David made his way to the door. A shot rang out and a hole formed above David's head in the wall. David disregarded it and ran out the door, into the morning air.

6.

Though it was July, th morning wasnt quite warm yet, and a bit of a chill hung in the air. David ran full speed down the steps and onto the sidewalk outside of his house. The neighbor upstairs had no doubt heard the shot and probably called the cops again. But he would be long gone by then and he had a feeling Founders wouldnt around when the patrol came by. David had a hunch that Founders was bluffing about other people knowing about his problem. If Founders was in fact some hand of an unsees entity trying to use him as they saw fit, they probably would hav had more people there to back up Founders. No, Founders had no more idea of what to do with David Smalls than Smalls did of himself.
In fact Founders plan was simple: he was going to take David to a safehouse nearby that was used by the department occasionally, hold him for a few days until he could get in contact with someone from the government who might know what to do, hoping all the while for a reward of some kind. That was all he intended to do, but he was letting the whole idea of the kid being invulnerable make him want to test things out in a sadistic way. It had felt good to watch David plummet to the ground earlier the night before. It felt even better to Founders when he stabbed david in the chest. He didnt know why, but the whole attempting to try to hurt David any way he could filled him with a sick kind of glee. He knew that he probably owuldnt harm him, but he wanted to try other things. He wanted to put him in that safe house so he could try out a new circular saw he had bought. He had some theories on regeneration he wanted to put to test. They were sick theories but he knew that every great individual had to get their hands dirty to achieve the things they accomplished. He was prepared to do the worst to David.
Founders had a small squad of officers he employed but he didnt want them to know what was going on. He wanted to keep this all to himself. He would only utilize them if it was necessary.
The detective had made his way to his car just as the call was being made about gunshots at David's residence for the second time n less than 8 hours. Officers would be there soon, and this time they would probably break in and make a quick search of the place. He wasnt worried at all. Things were covered on his end. He was a ghost. And besides that he had all the time , money and resources needed to track David down. And if David didnt go quietly along with the whole thing?
Founders would find a way to kill him. He was absolutely sure of that. No one was immortal. No one.

David ran. He ran until his breath came out of ragged gasps, and then he ran some more. What the fuck was going on? Things were getting stranger by the minute. He was sure that Founders was clearly on his own with this whole debacle, but maybe he did have a potential buyer who would want to use him for his uniqueness. He needed to get out of Lanshire. He didnt really have too many friends and family was something that had all but dissapeared in recent years. He was almost literally alone, but he did have a few options.
But first, he needed to get a little moe distance between him and Founders. He was on Main Street, and up ahead he saw a mini-mart that he occasionally went into to buy beer. He made his way to it, and went inside.
Once inside, he went to one of the chip racks and began to grab various items. He went to the cooler, and got a few waters. He took his items and left.
Outside, the sun was beginning to rise higher in the sky. It was about ten in the morning. The library was open. David would go to it and hang out for a while to formulate a plan as to what to do next. He needed time to rest and to think. It had been an interesting past 12 hours.

7.

Some time back, Steve Founders almost lost his job. He was in charge of a case involving an adult male, aged 25 and his girlfriend, 17. She was actually right on the edge of 18, but nontheless, there was some other stuff going on that brought them into the Detective's jurisdiction. Meth, marijuana, and cocaine were being transported by thee two , and sold around town, mostly in the college area.
Lanshire, though it had it's share of older folk and the middle aged with kids, it was predominantly a college town. And it had it's fair share of college-related extracurricular activities such as partying heavily and excessive binge drinking. Founders was captain of the special teams unit of the police department for the college. Normally the partying he would let go. But whenever he caught word of drugs like meth and coke being trafficked all over his area, he was all over it.
During this particular investigation, he took a similar approach to the suspects as he had with David; keep all the info largely to himself, and do all the work inconspicuously. He stalked the couple for about three months until he accidentally made his prescence a bit earlier than he wanted.
The couple were on their way to meet a buyer. They decided to walk, because it was a nice day. They were in fact about to go sell some weed to a guy they knew, but there was no meth or coke. The two had never done anything worse than pot. The info that Founders had received was erroneous. He was following them for virtually nothing but he knew no better. The couple made their way to a gas station at the edge of town and the detective followed.
Since they were on foot, Founders did the same, being sure to keep a good distance from them. He followed them to the deal at the gas station. He wasnt but maybe 100 ft from them. They wereent even trying to be sneaky about selling the dope, he thought at the time. They were right there at the pump, the buyer in a car, these two kids, well, one of them was still a kid, just making a deal right then and there.
The transaction looked to be over, because the buyer was putting the car into drive and pulling away, while the couple were about to walk into the gas station, when a dark brown sedan came screeching up to the front of the station. A large, middle-aged man emerged. He looked like he would be more likelyto be riding a Harley than driving a family car like the one he was driving. He approached the couple with a finger pointing at the girl and began shouting.
It was the girl's father, and he looked as if he was ready to kill someone. And a moment later Founders saw that he was once he realized that the man was carrying something.
The girl's father raised the sawed off shotgun at the young man. The girl was crying hysterically and telling her father no, what the fuck are you doing, and I love him daddy! NO NO NO!
Founders let training take over. He was the only cop in the area and he had the ability and the responsibility to stop the situation from escalating. He wanted to pop these kids for breaking the law, but he wasnt going to letthem get killed.
It was a blur after that. The father was still shouting about the guy being a child fucker and a pedophile and this and that. The girl was calling him a drunk worthless father, the guy was just standing there, cool, calm. Not really sure what to do, but just letting everything happen. It was as if he had expected something like this to happen. As if all the things he was currently doing, theyre consequences were hitting all at the same time. He was afraid, but yet he wasnt. He took a step towards the girls father, and the father raised the gun and leveled it at the kid's head.
Founders did not have a good shot. From his spot, he could have hit either of them. He didnt have enough time to get to where they were to make his presence known. So he just aimed and shot. That's all. He knew the father was about to pull the trigger and blow the kid's head off, so Founders just lookeddown the barrel of his gun and pulled the trigger.
The bullet might have gone true, straight into the brain of an alcohol-maddened mind, at least on the first shot, but it didnt. It went straight into the boyfriend's skull, slamming him to the ground. The father, not sure what happened, turns in the direction of the shot. He sees Founders approaching, but he probably didnt hear the detective say Stop! Put your gun down now! Police! Because he's pulling the trigger and the sawed off is deafening. What's worse, the gun battle was taking place at a gas station. Founders got cover behind an ice cooler at the corner of the station. the father was reloading his gun, and thats when he took his next shot. He popped out and shot the man twice in the chest. The shotgun fell out of the fathers hands and he crumpled to the ground. The girl the whole time is trying to wake her boyfriend up not believing the site of the huge hole in the side of his head, and that calm , cool look that he had moments before.
Founders had recovered himself. and was calling for backup and an emergency squad. The girl looked up at him and then she saw that her father was lying on the ground dying, she went to him. This was not good. founders knew that his career as an officer might be over. This situation went wrong in a way he hadnt foreseen. But the situation was likely; a father of a 17 year old girl having found out that the boyfriend she spent most of her time with wasactually 25 years old and a drug dealer, would od course be infuriated enough to have a alk with the young man. But the father was an alcoholic, and a speed freak. He found out the truth of the situation and spent that day hunting them down. He was going to kill the boyfriend, of that there iis no doubt. He might even have killed his daughter as well, which would have been bad for him, considering that the girl was a month pregnant at the time, though she didnt know it. Triple homicide. Life or Death.
But that isnt how it went. The girl lived and she is about due to give birth soon. She's fatherless and loveless, now. It didnt have to be that way and she claimed wrongful death and then her mother got into it and the n the legal precedings against the cityy of Lanshire began. Founders got suspended with pay. They would let him go for a month and then he would be on a probationary status. Any kind of fuck-up and he was odne being a cop in Ohio.
Founders took that month to really think about what had happened. His family owned a beach house in the Outer Banks, so he went down there for a month. He had money saved up enough that he didnt really have anything better to do than drink, so thats what he did. He didnt really feel too bad about killing both of those people, even if the girl doesnt have anyone now. What was it to him? He needed to find a way to do something to redeem himself, and possibly make him rich on the side. He couldnt get involed inthe drug trade, though he had thought about it. he knew some people he could get work from, but he didnt want to have to go tat extent to break the law to makesome money. And besides, where was te redemption?
The university had recently began a new initiative in the wake of all the school violence that was transpiring recently. They wanted to nake sure they and law enforcement were prepared to take on the challenge of a student losing it after losing their loans due to bad grades. The threat of a grenade wielding kid jacked up on painkillers and speed running into a crowded classroom was something everyone was afraid of.
the university prepared a list of "high-risk" students; kids they thought might want to engage in some form of violence or damage against the school. Founders job was to go through the list and interview the kids to see if there is any chance of them killing anyone.
Most of the kids were just stereotyped, it seemed. Goths, punks;it seemed that the university just didnt want that typeof image around though it was pretty prevalent compared to preppy, jock kids. Founders would spend pointless days talking to emo kids about why they cut themselves and why they cry in the dark all he time. These kids werent a threat; most of them just seemed like whiny rich kids who dont get their way all the time. It was crazy.
One day, a fax came to Founders office at the police department. It was from the university and it was about a young man named David Smalls. Smalls had recently lost hisfather in a murder in downtown Columbus, and his girlfriend had just left him. She apparently had came to the university and informed that Smalls was apt to engage in some violent activity towards the school, staff, or student population. She gave descriptions of bombmaking in a basement, target practicing constantly ouside of town with automatic weapons, and even saying that she overheard a long-distance telephone call regarding a rocket launcher. Of course the university couldnt just step in and call the cops on what she was purporting to be true, but they did have Detective Founders. Though hesitant in the wake of the incident at the gas station on the other side of town, the go ahead was made to get him on the case.
Founders began surveilling David Smalls extensively as soon as he was instructed. He followed him everywhere. Then one day, while David was washing his clothes at a nearby laundromat, Founders broke into his home.
The detective didnt like the feeling of just watching this guy, knowing that there might be some crazy shit going on in the apartment. If he's really making bombs and all that stuff, then Founders wanted to take him down. Tht was for sure. But he wanted to know what he was up against, so he bugged David's home. He put audio taps in places David didnt know existed, and even installed a hidden mini-cam in a dusty corner of the ceiling in the living room, which gave him a 360 degree visual of David's bathroom, bedroom, and part of the kitchen, as well as the whole of the livng room. He would know what Davd was doing 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. He had the feed transmitted to his laptop via wifi a block away in a locked car that he would check periodically.
At first, he deemed David as a young guy who was done with life. He didnt really go out too much, and he didnt do much but watch tv or read books. No on ever came over,and he never was on the phone. Nothing interesting started transpiring until the day David first tried to kill himself. After that, Founders was intrigued, even though he already had filed Smalls as a non-threat to the university. What he was doing was voyeurism, but he didnt know what to think of it all. Here he had this kid trying to kill himself on a daily basis almost, and he's not dying. He had countless mpg files of David trying to hang himself, cut himself, drink drano, anything and everything he could do to die, and none of it working. None. Whether it was gun's misfiring or going off, hitting their mark and not doing their job, David wasnt dying. He was clearly aging thatwas for sure, but it seemed that you couldnt kill him. He couldnt do it himself anyway. Founders started to wonder what kind of power was keeping him frm dying? Was he like an angel or something? Was he just some kind of genetic freak of nature? Was he the next step in the evolutionary ladder for mankind? He didnt know, but then he decided to try and get in contact with someone who might know, and who knows everything but the federal government of the United States of America. No one. But the thing was, Founders didnt know who to contact. Thats why he needed to get David to a secure location to make sure he wouldnt run. Because after the previous night of watching David fall, and after being stabbed by Founders himself, the detective had seen enough.


pt 2
(David Goes to the Library)

I am slightly pissed.  My computer this weekend, which I have only had for a few months, decided to wipe it's own hard drive.  This is the second time this has happened in the last six months.  I dont know if there is some kind of crazy magnetic polarity emitting from my basement or what, but I am getting angry at the fact that nothing electronic works worth a damn inside my apartment.  I mean, my Xbox still works for the most part (I get the white screen of death constantly, so I have to always do the open/close thing with the disc tray until a game boots up), but it seems like things of an electronical nature just dont want to work without me having to F with them first on some level. 

So, basically this story I have been working on for the last month or whatever, all 100 or so pages are gone.  I have a backup of the first fifty or so pages, but it's just frustrating that everytime I get a damn computer, my apartment mysteriously decides to murder it.  Yeah, I know, I probably got a virus or something, but it's easier to blame my apartment.  

Let's see.... I'm going to Michigan at the end of the month to see my dad, so that should be cool since I havent been out there for a couple of years.  Also my older sister is coming to Ohio in a week or so, and I am excited to see her.  Other than that, things are going strangely well or so, and the only predicament I can think of at the moment is whether I want to go to Columbus State or Ohio Dominican in the fall.  It's a toss-up at the moment, and I could go either way. 

Oh, by the way on the video game-nerd-front, Unreal Tournament 3 for 360 is badass.  It's like a Gears / Halo hybrid, and you get hovwerboards.  F'ing sweet..... I swear I played it all weekend.

Yeah I was bored enough to google my name this morning.  I didnt work last night because my brother happened to incur a slight injury, and had to be taken to urgent care.  Yay.  Anyhow, I've been up for a little while so I've been doing random things on the computer, and one of those things was the googling of my name.  It's pretty humorous to do this;  to see who all shares your name.  I share mine with a movie director (I already knew that one), a DJ, and a guy who won on Who Wants to be a Millionaire.   Pretty funny shit, I thought.   I googled some other people's names and I think those were funnier, but I'm not going to say who.

You'll just have to google your own to find out.

Damn.  Can you believe that June is already pretty much over with?  This summer is flying , man.  It feels like it was just spring last week, even though last night, if anyone was out and about it was cold as hell; almost fall-like in it's blusteriness (I dont know if that's a proper usage for the word "blustery".  Oh well). 

I dont really have much to complain about here lately.  The last few days have been rather cool, and everything seems to be runnin smoothly.  I finally got moved elsewhere at work, which is awesome, though I am going to miss some of the characters I would scream at and with on a nightly basis.  I'm still here at me mum's house watching goats, dogs, birds, and now kids, who in fact have a dental appointment here in a half-hour I have to take them to.  But it's cool.  I dont really have much to do so it's kind of like my third vacation in two months time.   It's nice not being at my depressing ass apartment in Lancaster, though I think if I had a new lamp in my living room it wouldnt be so bad.  That, and some of the seasons on DVD of that show The Shield.  I started watching it recently and it is a really awesome show.  I tried downloading some of them, but no dice.  Oh well.  I guess I'll just pay my late fee at the library and request them or something. 

Since I dont have anything to bitch about, this kind of makes for a really boring blog entry, not that most of the one's I enter arent boring enough.   I have some new tracks on my computer I've been listening to that I guess I'll plug since I'm really just killing time until my little sister gets her punk ass out of bed.   If you like metal, the new In Flames, A sense of Purpose is just fucking sick, man.   It's probably one of the best new metal album's I've heard in a while and it may be in fact they're best album besides Clayman.   Other than that, I've been listening to a lot of NIN and old Rage Against the Machine.  I dont know,  I kind of went on this kick a couple of weeks ago where I started getting a bunch of the old albums I had in High School (everything except korn and some of them other stupid ass bands I used to like, some of which I wont mention; Limp Bizkit, for example.  Whatever happened to Fred Durst , I wonder?   I thought I seen him working at the Pac Sun in the Lancaster mall.  Hmmmm.....).

I've been taking things too seriously.  That's all.  This past year I've done nothng but become more uptight about things that really had no bearing on me before.  But is this what it's like to grow up?  I swear, I still feel the same as I do when I was 21, but at the same time I know I'm not and I feel the truth as well. 

I've thought a lot today about the things that are currently on my shoulders, threatening to bring the whole deal down around my head and bringing everything that I've worked hard to attain down to nothing.   I fear messing up and it's causing me to be more of an egotistical, overzealous, condescending prick to virtually everyone I know.  Apologies, but at the same time I'm done apologizing. 

Here I sit, 9 in the AM, drinking an ice cold beer after a long hot night at work.  I'm starting to wear down a bit I think.  I mean, not in the sense that I'll just keel over and come to a screeching, rusty halt, but more in the sense that even though I had spoke the other day about how things are just moving way too fast; that the days are flying by faster now than ever before, i'm slowing down but at the same time speeding up.  How's that for not making any sense?  I think it's probably one of the most sane things that I've ever thought of.....           

 

I almost lost it last night at work in a such a way that I havent quite felt in so long, that it kind of freaked me out.  I was kind of getting ....well, fucked.... and I just flipped out.  I yelled at someone, and then a certain somebody kind of spoke out and I just went red.  Who the fuck is this guy, who barely does anything but look like he's busy, think he is to tell me I needed to shut up, when in fact I am above him, though I pay no attention to that shit.  Everyone's equal in my book besides upper management.  So here's this guy, someone who I usually get along with to a certain extent, yelling at me and calling me a cock, while I'm getting just hammered with packages left and right.  It took pretty much everything I had not to come flying across the goddamn belt and tearing this guy's eye from his socket.  OK thats a little crazy, but that was the thought that went through my head at that particular moment.  But as the night wore on, I calmed down considerably .  Though I am still a bit perturbed at the audacity of this particular fellow's remarks, I realize that my quarrel isnt with him; it's with another source of frustration there, whom I dont want to mention.   But here's why I'm frustrated:  I've been trying to get moved out of the area I work in to basically anywhere else, save a few other places.  I've been to management and requested that I be taken off the belt I work on, and nothing's been done.  In fact there is all kinds of stuff that's been brought up by me, and nothing's been done.

 

Look, I dont pretend to be some kind of super-awesome employee/corporate whore.  I just go in, do my job, and leave.  I'm not working there to fulfill some life dream of slinging the most cardboard parcels ever in one night.  No, I just want to get paid.  That's all.  And right now, I'm looking for ways to increase my pay, hence why I went back to school.   Sure I like to write and do photos and the whatnot, but I'm not going to also pretend that I'm some badass writer or photographer who's out to try and change the perceptions, outlooks, and attitudes of the degenerate masses. 

I'm just a guy who likes to take a nice photo now and then;  I'm the dude who still likes to kick back and read a book while his friends make fun nearby (they really do).   But for the most part I really like working and I really am concerned with doing the best job that I can possibly do while at work.  Although, anymore I think I may be done killing myself for that anymore.

 

We'll see if I ever come to that aforementioned rusty, screeching halt like a beaten tin-man, and if I do, I hope it's at work on a night that Whitehall, Gahanna, and those other podunk towns i'm responsible for are due to take a beating.....

 

.....And I know i'll go out quietly, rusty smile and all.

It doesnt seem to me that it was that long ago that I really used to love the summer time.  I mean I guess a huge part of me still does, but for the most part I just bitch the entire time about how hot it is and how muggy and just blechhh it just happens to be.  Seriously,  I used to really love summer. 

 

But now, it almost feels like the remaining amount of them I have left are beginning to flee faster and faster now that 'm getting older. Now, everything doesnt seem as bright and new as it used to be.

Things really look a bit darker, a bit more disturbing and just too real.  Everything is much more faster now, and it really can set a person up to change on a variety of levels.  Sometimes I feel like I might be afflicted by some mental disorder; though I know I'm not necessarily a raving lunatic, I have my moments where I do lose control of my temper.  I dont beat women and children at least. 

 

I try to slow down as much as I possibly can.  I try to take advantage of the time that is available , and exploit it to its fullest. 

 

I remember days of summer nights when I was barely legal, racing through the streets in a minivan, high on nothing more than the knowledge of not knowing what lay before us.  Sometimes I miss that driver....   But back then , those were the last days when things were still sort of alright;  though one could tell then we were about to descend into the slipstream of faster time and dark uncertainty.  I remember nights sneaking out of my house to go and hang out with the hippie kids down the road almost every night of the week.  I also recall the times I spent with all my old friends a long time ago, and it pains me sometimes not talking to them much anymore.  But  to be honest, I was in a place during high school that I really did not belong.  I should've went to NL instead of going to the high school I attended.  I really should have.

 

Though, what's the point of lamenting these various past ruminations?  I dont like to be such a Debbie Downer, but these things weigh on my mind like crazy sometimes, like there is some huge regret that I havent realized yet that may have taken place back then.  I'll be damned if I knew what it is.....

 

Enough insanity....