Looking upon all this now with such clarity. The ground had become as it was. As it always was. And it feels now as it always did. You closed the door to your room to pout and weep to yourself. And me opening your door to be met with shouts to close it. How I could never forget that voice and its demands. How lovely it was in its oppression and intimidation. So provoking it was. But I could never have met its demands when we touched eyes and saw tears in yours. “No, spooky baby, you’re the only one for me. As you shall always be.” How much it was an uphill battle to win you back over. How every step was worth it so. To meet with you with such reciprocation and passion. Do you remember those nights when it was so hot out? The words shared in whispers. How they haunt me.
The past two months have meant so much to me. And I know they’ve meant something to you too. Realizing that our bond and connection is still so very real. Getting the sense that you feel so unloved and still so misunderstood. It pains me so that you still feel that way, and how badly I want to take your hands and give you the things we had lost. To provide you with the love we both have missed and wanted back. Discovering what you were seeking from me, I still held back from what I wanted to say in fear. Were the past 20 years just a building process to be so much more to one another? It began to feel like that. To acquire the tools to unearth that which we had attempted to bury so deep. And I had wept with joy to find it still so pristine. Provoking such desire to take you from everything and make you feel so extremely loved and so well understood. Where you would never feel alone or neglected. Once again, feeling as if we are truly made for one another. Holding my hand out to you and feeling you wanting to take it. To live the life we are seemingly so destined to live together. As I had said, “our fingers inches away.” Wanting to be near each other again. To make the potent love I know we are still so capable of making to each other.
This was never going to be easy. We didn’t become so separated overnight. Nor will we truly find each other any sooner.
I know you are angry and hurt now. And it sort of warmed me that you still cannot bear the thought of me looking toward another. But there is no other. I have pined over you since we became apart. I had said that I wanted to see you again, even if it was just for a moment. But not like that. How I so wanted to go after you, but didn’t know how you would react. And when you saw me with a friend, it surely had exacerbated the belief that I was trying to see someone else. I don’t know what to say to make me believe me in that. I have only been a heart beating only for you since I first laid eyes on you. So focused on the reconstruction of self and mind. Doing so much to be something more to you. I cannot let this be the end of it. Seeing you turn away is a sight I know too well. As if seeing you go to your room again. Over a misunderstanding. Over something that is not real.⁷
I will always be here waiting for you to glance back at me. Waiting for the moment to open your door again to be met with shouts of disdain and demands to leave.
“No, spooky baby, you’re the only one for me.” As you shall always be. And how every step will always be so worth it. …don’t go. Not yet.
So I sent Bailey a few gifts for her birthday and had to write a fake return address because the post office wouldn’t let me flat out send it anonymously. For good reason, I suppose. Although they saw that it wasn’t anthrax or a bomb, but whatever. Then I texted her from a Google voice number. Trying to see if she had actually received it, and she did. Then, of fucking course, I couldn’t stop just there. I’ve remained anonymous despite wanting to tell her so badly. Showed her that she is my beneficiary. Perhaps in death I can so much more for her. I still have one more thing to send her. After that, that’ll be it. Obviously I can’t keep texting her like this or keep in contact really at all. If I do, I’ll end up giving myself away and fucking it all up. How she hasn’t placed me in all of this already is almost astonishing. Unless she is just bluffing and waiting to see if I’ll say it. She brought up flowers I sent her, saying she didn’t know who sent them when it was accompanied by a letter I put my name on. So I thought that was odd. Perhaps an attempt to lure me out. Which it almost did. I was nearly like “WHAT!?! IT DIDN’T COME WITH A LETTER!?!” But then she later said it did. If that letter was still sitting in that god-damned flower shop, I would have lost it. Then she brings up the strawberry fest, nearly unprovoked….again. And that always stings. Her bringing up a key moment between us tells me she has to have some idea it’s me. Not that I’m trying to make some stupid game out of this. I fear if she really knows it’s me, all this could be for not. She could very well just burn everything. I don’t know if I’m doing this for selfish reasons. Trying to give her things just to help me sleep at night. Having the feeling that I finally did something right with her. I know this won’t bring her back or give me any kind of redemption at all. But after more than a decade of making everything an absolute shit house between us, I can at lest do this one positive thing for her. I’ll add more once I finally send her this one last thing.
Posted in Life on February 4, 2021 by Malcontent133
I have no idea how to properly start this. Thoughts of you have become especial lately. So vivid and they disconnect me from reality. Making me feel as if I could just simply call you and everything would be ok with casual conversation. As if all it would take was a text “Hey, what are you doing later?” Then it either turns into another situation of “No, fuck you, you did this to ME!” or we end up enjoying each other’s company. Conversing on things that interest or ails us. Sharing a laugh and for our eyes to meet after the laugh was over. Or to share a loving embrace realizing that we were never too far from one another for a reason.
All of it sounds lovely, and I’m not sure what I wouldn’t give to be near you again. But after the fog of being deep in the daydreams wear off, I understand what the reality is again and the depression sets back in. I’ll think about it all so deeply as so long I’ll begin to smell you. I’ll remember what you tasted like. I’ll remember every single facial muscle you have that would make you smile and what your eyes would do to me every time.
Yet I’m sure if we saw one another in person, you would just scurry away as quick as you could. This is something I have accepted. I have accepted that we may never speak again. That we may never even lay eyes on each other ever again.
I truly worry about you. I worry about you during this pandemic. Praying you are keeping your distance if you have to go anywhere.
Darkness, so pure not a single ray of light can find its way to me
How long have I soaked in this darkness
Eternity?
Or times I think just a moment
I feel nothing…..
As though there were nothing
And I am floating in it
I have preserved my sanity,
have I not?
Or did I lose it somewhere?
And yet, in this darkness and its fantasies
One thing is still clear in my mind
That alone like lightning splitting through the darkness
She appeared so vividly in my mind
Over and over again it swells and sinks like the waves of a tsunami
Hatred, friendship, jealously, indignation, emptiness, love, sorrow
They all come together in a single great storm
Driving a stake through my mind
Holding my consciousness together
The one who cast me into this darkness
She is now my anchor
This woman whose life was once in my hands
When did I fall under your control?
I see you now
Radiating so brilliantly it blinds me
I hope sending you these has made you feel a little better. Even if it’s only slightly.
You may not be feeling bad at all now for all that I really know. It’s a little hard for me to write this as I’m aware that this could be the last thing I ever say to you. I had to type this, which seems a little detached, but my handwriting is just abhorrent.
I’m aware of demonstrating my affection for you requires my absence; I’ve long since accepted that despite it being painful to acknowledge. You have a canvass of me that cannot be erased or altered, and I’m the one that painted it for you. I wish so badly things could be different, but I understand too well that it’ll never be. My track record is far louder than my words.
When you said
“I’m just resurrecting demons.”
It hurt a little. Although I totally understand why you feel that way.
I’ve seemingly loved hurting you more than I did you.
I definitely owe you an apology for how I conducted myself back in 2010. What I became still kind of haunts me. You were only looking for support then—someone to lean on. And I turned into a monster on you. You didn’t deserve any of that. I’m so sorry for the hideous things I had said to you. I am so deeply sorry for what I had done. How scared I must have made you. I was utterly disgusted with myself. How could I have done that to someone I claim to infinitely love? It was like waking up from a horrible dream after, and it took a long time to get back into mental fitness and pulling myself from such a dark period. That’s another reason it’s wise for the bridge between us to remain gone. I can’t have that happen again. I always think I can handle communicating with you and that I’m far stronger, too jaded, or apathetic until I actually do communicate with you. Wounds reopen, and a wave of emotions come over me. I can’t risk it for my own sanity.
Although, It hurts to know when you hurt. Hearing you cry is the worst sound in the world to me. I want to utterly die when I have this feeling of helplessness when you feel that way. This paralyzing fear that something could ever happen to you is the worst. For you to get sick, accident or you’ve lost the will to go on…God, Bailey, I wouldn’t survive it. I want to take your hand and show you that you don’t have to face it alone. If I could give my life for you to never experience hardship or pain ever again, I would this instant. The best thing I can do for you is to stay away and let you live your life. I prevented you from doing so for so long. No one needs some hopeless romantic ex who never sleeps popping up, again and again, puking out tragic poetry and ghoul manifestos in an annual fashion. ( I realize I’m doing precisely that right now, but you get it.) it never sits well with you, and to trust myself that I won’t try to press it further is such an arrogant thing. It’s always been damaging to us both, and that so hard to comprehend. It would always end with you sobbing and locking the door and me trying my hardest to destroy myself over it. It always leads to a harvest of seclusion and regret.
I burn it all down, and a period of ash is what I get. This child-like romantic idea that we would die next to each other in the end is almost embarrassing to have held onto for that long. And I cringe at the memory of that kind of behavior I had then. The memories I have with you are my most valued possession. Our first kiss and how awkward it was, making love, being so enamored when listening to you speak, and being nearly heartbroken when realizing there was no real way to become one with you. And the painful realization that we are two far different people now and that super-powerful connection we had has become so eroded by time that it doesn’t exist anymore. If I didn’t have a photographic memory, I would be scared that I would eventually forget what you look like. I can never let those things go. (Watch me get fucking Alzheimer’s disease or some other memory erasure now.) But I can let you go with love. The closure I have sought for so long will never be enough to me, and I feel like that has kept me motivated to continue forward for so long. I can never say enough, nor can it ever be as meaningful as I want it. And understandably, you’ve abandoned me in that.
Before, all my attempts in that would turn ugly or in a complete waste because of my selfish behavior. I think underneath it all, deepest down, this is all that I have ever wanted. To have the closure we were never really able to properly have.
I can’t believe I still find myself tearing up over it, and it’s hard to fathom saying something like “Farewell for good” But what else would be left? It’s nearly impressive that I’ve been able to craft more to mention out of ash and dead soil. That I can continue to sing, paint, and write about this after all this time. I use to think that means something when I was young. But seeing how there were never any results, it’s clear that it doesn’t.
And that’s OK. It’s OK the know that we won’t spend our lives together and have a daughter that’ll look just like you or live out our days in some fairy tale. We are two very different people now with different needs and desires, and that totally OK. I tried to call you because I wanted to hear your voice one more time. But it looks as though you have blocked me from that. It was pretty wise to do so.
One dream I had of you, I’ll never forget it hurt so bad, I was on your road, and your house looked different, of course. As if it was some log cabin overlooking a peer. It was nice. And your mom was in the front yard talking to me.
“Oh, I think Bailey wrote you a letter. It’s still in the mailbox.”
I was ecstatic! I had been looking to hear ANYTHING from you for so long. Even if something damaging was written like “Never loved you/faked my orgasms” whatever.
I couldn’t get the envelope open fast enough. And when I did, the letter was in pieces. Torn up. And then the pieces started to multiply spilling all over the dirt road. Making it impossible to put together. God, waking up from that destroyed me like it did when we split. It’s still emotional to think about.
I don’t believe dreams are premonitions, signs, or messages from the subconscious, but it really hit home. It really illustrated that things can never be put back together. My anxiousness for it, your refusal to even be present, that the landscape is far different now, and that I don’t deserve to place anything together ever again. I was the one that tore the letter up. I don’t know what I thought I expected from you. As if I had been waiting for some magical phrase from you. As if I would just vanish from existence if I heard it. Or whatever juvenile idea that was trapped in my head for too long.
All I can do is be grateful to you for teaching me what love is like in it’s most potent, innocent, purest, and ideal form and continue to feel that for you at a distance. Given my experiences and growth as a person, I can put these last flowers at our grave and wish you well in everything that you do. Hoping you find true happiness in whatever or whoever it may be. You truly deserve that more than anyone I have ever known.
I can’t wait for this pathetic “moment to shine,” or whatever foolishness that had me stuck here for this long. When all I was doing was clawing pandora’s box open. I let this pain become my life, and the result had put you in a position you didn’t deserve to be in for too long.
I’ll always love you with every atom in my body, Bailey. You are still the most important person in existence to me. Obviously, that’ll never change. What will change is how I handle it. I’ll always regret not growing a brain sooner.
I should have never left you, I should have let you go when you left, I should have been more honest with you, I should have done thousands of things differently. Who knows if it would have changed anything, but what would have been different is that I wouldn’t have put you through so much. Putting you through as much as I did is what I ultimately regret.
I want you to be happy and safe. I want you to do what you love and be loved. To feel like you have so much to live for. I want you to feel like things are perfect for you.
To not need to worry about pain or adversity.
2 months into all this and now I’m bored.
I can feel my mental state beginning to crack.
Already in writing this, the motivation has drained from me suddenly.
Staying up all night and sleeping most of the day.
As much as it is a disaster waiting to happen opening everything back up, I’m anxious to get back to work.
I’m sure unemployment will be pressured to cut everyone off ASAP.
Social media doesn’t help much either.
It has shown me how many knuckle draggers are out there in the world.
Or at lest this country. Or at least this state…or this county…town.
I know I’m starting to slip when I start thinking of her all day everyday again.
This seems to be annual and I guess it’s about that time. About once a month it all comes slamming back into the forefront of my mind and just sits there like a smug child.
replaying critical moments of the past, making up scenarios in my head that would involve us. remembering the smells, smiles, words, all of it as if it all happened yesterday.
My god, I still remember it all so vividly.
As much as I still care for her deeply, it’s all just wanting something from the past or to feel happy like that once again. Sure, I miss her but in this instance I don’t think it has much to do with her, really.
Just a desire to feel better while I’m miserable and sick of being stuck in this house.
Unemployment is paying me a little better than my job was but I’d gladly lose that to go back.
Normally I like overcast days but at this point I’m like “fuck, not another one”
But what does it really matter? if it was super nice out, I’d be dying to go do something like day drink. LOL. BUT, can’t do that either.
I’m not complaining about everything being closed. It’s totally necessary. more so bummed as to why it has to.
I can’t seem to sleep at night. It is kind of hard to when you fuck up your sleep scheduled.
I haven’t been to sleep yet and tried to until it was 6AM. So I’m going to TRY to stay up and go to bed in the early PM.
I stay up and play video games or watch some stupid youtube videos. Then when it’s time to sleep, I lie awake and go back to 2002 and relive all the pain and every stupid cringe moment I ever caused.
Like fuck, why did I say that? Why did I behave like that? Why did I lie about that?
A lot of it was because I was super insecure and felt like everyone else was way cooler than me. So I felt like I had to make up these stories or lies to make myself seem far more interesting that I felt that I was. Then all the people I thought were so much cooler than me turned out to be junkies, losers or dead.
So…what was I really idolizing? LOL!
Not that I’ve turned out to be some great C.E.O success story but it took a long time to be..OK with myself.
No one wants to admit that they are flawed or average. Everyone want to believe that they are unique in some way. And most people are in their own way, obviously.
But people want to be EXCEPTIONAL! And I do, too, of course.
But I feel it’s far more rewarding to be self aware. to realize that you are in the same boat as others. you can feel very alone on both sides of the pendulum.
In my younger years, I tried too hard to be EXCEPTIONAL when I really wasn’t at all.
I was just some average ass kid from Belleville. Which was more or less a fucking farm town. lol. But alas, I wanted to impress folks. Which everyone does, right?
You don’t go to a job interview with the same face you wear at home.
you don’t go on a first date with the same apathy that you might have for most things.
…I can’t remember where I was going with this. So attempt at justifying my weird behavior in high school and why it keeps me up at night recently.
I think it keeps me up because thanks to this pandemic, I have nothing else going on.
So my mind is a blank canvas for older memories to pop up like “SUP BITCH, REMEMBER THIS AND THAT! YOU SUCK!”
Plus being mid 30’s now is depressing. When all those happier times get farther and farther away. wondering if I’m past my prime now.
Looking at myself in the mirror wondering if I look old. Looking at old pictures when I was in my 20’s and thinking how much of a stud I was and how all the ladies wanted to fix me. lol. Now I’m fucking fat AGAIN and I probably look older.
I’m Asexual so I guess it really doesn’t matter.
I really don’t know the point of this post or what the take away was.
Better to write something, even if it’s just some rambling mess, instead of driving myself insane in silence.
It’s been a little over a week of all of this.
I can feel myself beginning to get cabin fever.
I would just buy some beer and take a long walk somewhere isolated if it were warmer.
When it’s predicted to be 55 degrees or higher, it turns out to be barely mid 40’s
Hopefully, later this week turns out to be correct (predicted to be near 60) and I will do just that. I plan on walking pretty far like I use to as I can tell I’m starting to get out of shape and I’m scared my calves will start to atrophy. As all I have been doing is sitting around and eating crap. Lord knows I could lose several pounds.
My job closed a week ago and initially, it was planned to close for a week.
But since things have become worse, it’s planned to reopen on the 13th.
They are paying us for the two weeks it”s been closed. But I’m sure that’s only a one time deal. After that, I’m going to have to put something else into action. Because the senate can’t seem to do anything at all.
Although I’m sure it’ll be much longer. so ideal hands and all…
One of my friends that I play Magic: The gathering with said he has the virus.
Although a part of me doesn’t seem to trust what he says a lot of the time.
He said the place that he works considered itself “essential”
I’m not 100% on what they even do. Resupply grocery stores?
“Yeah well, at least you don’t have to go to a job where there have been 7 confirmed cases.”
“My work has had five confirmed cases already”
Funny that he types the number 7, then types out the very word “five” lol
So who really knows. Either way, I suppose, is that I’m stuck in this house.
I’m not so worried about being infected because I’ve been a stickler about personal space forever. Although I am a sucker for a firm handshake. Weird, I know.
And my immune system is tough as nails. Not saying I’m immune to this virus, but common illnesses have never really bothered me at all. I’m only been sick maybe 3 times in my life.
I have to get out of this house soon or I’m going to take a bath with a fuckin’ toaster.
with nothing else going on, how pretentious people are starts to get louder and I grow more irritated every time someone opens their mouth.
I can’t help but think about folks that I know.
Are they safe I wonder?
I want to reach out to Bailey so bad and just inquire if she’s ok.
I’m sure that wouldn’t be the best idea to put forward.
And I’m even more sure it would go unanswered.
I hope she’s safe. She doesn’t do very well with isolation.
If something were to happen to her it would be the most devastating event to ever happen to me. I truly wouldn’t be able to recover from that.
I know that sounds super selfish
“I NEED YOU TO LIVE SO I CAN LIVE!” lol
She’d probably have to ask “Chris? Chris who?” LOL
I hope she’s taking care of herself and being safe however severe you picture all this.
That’s another downside to all of this. If I’m not occupying myself with some kind of media, I’ve got nothing but overeating and thoughts.
So I think of every happier time and every stupid cringy thing I’ve ever done.
They pop in my head in the shower and I let out an audible “ahh FACK!”
lol.
I’m an expert in driving myself insane.
Did I not do enough? Did I do too much? Should I have said that?
it’s nearly a bother.
I’m not made to sit in one place for so long.
I guess I’ll move away from the depressing, heartbreaking, and cryptic posts as all they do is depress me and rebreak my heart. LOL
Perhaps post more things like this since this could potentially be my last months alive if things get even worse. lol either the virus mutates into something more lethal or society collapse and everyone starts to rape and pillage each other.
I also have to change the look of this whole page. It’s an echo of when I was absolutely insane and it kinda looks like a cringy “I’m 14 and this is deep” child.
Posted in Life on February 15, 2020 by Malcontent133
What is this?
What is this feeling that I have forgotten the words used to express?
How does it get darker when the lights went out only a bit ago?
So black I can’t be sure if this is dreamless sleep.
Yet I can see my hand in front of me.
Gray and cracked.
An Animal appears.
I can almost relate to its image that appears in front of me.
open mouth and vacant eyes.
it whispers “tick-tock ”
Puzzled I reflect.
I can’t remember anything aside from the riddle.
I can’t remember anything that meant anything aside from this at all.
“TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK
It is all I Hear. Is all that ever calls.
Do I need it?
Is that a sound at all?
But I blatantly hear it.
What should I care?
What does it mean to the blind to listen to something so repetitious?
No skin off my back
Not cutting any more years that haven’t already been taken.
It reaches for me.
I don’t know if the count down is for the inevitability of that white hand reaching me or to my end.
the former to the ladder perhaps.
I find myself fearful.
I’ve thought of everything in this hovel so I should be strong enough for anything.
Yet I am trapped. trapped in the facade. the face that I am stronger. What am I even? I haven’t seen my reflection in so long. How does one even face the light when all one has known is shade?
I suppose this is far more comfortable than facing consequences. The dark unbottomed infinite abyss.
I can lay here forever. without persecution. But it festers. IT WILL NEVER FUCKING LEAVE ME ALONE.
This white hand slowly makes its way to me.
No matter how much I turn away from the sight it always looks at me.
I can’t die. The release never comes.
My life dependent on another.
I’d love nothing more than it to be over.
there is no light coming from the bottom crack of the door anymore.
I can’t see anything.
Only my gray cracked hands.
I can no longer feel my own face.
My mind is so bored, I can see the dancing shells of times past.
My breath gets heavy. I forgot what that felt like.
I hear footsteps…
Please..please…don’t turn on the light o the other side. I forgot how much the sliver of light burns in here
Posted in Life on January 7, 2020 by Malcontent133
What happens to a house when it is left alone?
It becomes warm and aged. And its paint peels and its foundations begin to sink. It goes for too long unlived in. What does it think of? What does it dream?
How does it regard those creatures who built it? Who brought it into existence only to abandon it when its usefulness no longer satisfies them.
It may grow lonesome. It may stare for long hours into the darkness of its empty halls and see shadows. Its heart may jump as it thinks “here, here she is again, I am not alone.”
Each time it is wrong. And the hurt starts over.
It may haunt itself, inventing ghosts to walk its floors, making friends with its shadow puppets, laughing and whispering to itself at the end of some quiet cul-de-sac.
It may grow angry. Its basement may fill with churning acid like an empty stomach. And its gorge may rise as it asks itself, through clenched teeth, “what did I do wrong?”
It may grow bitter. It may grow hungry. So hungry and so bitter that its scruples dissolve and its doors unlock themselves.
While a house may hunger, it cannot starve. And it so in fever and anger and loneliness, it may simply lie in wait. Doors open. Shades drawn. Hallways empty. Hungry.
Posted in Life on December 23, 2019 by Malcontent133
or some kind of break I feel I’d be in a better mental place.
it’s in my mind through out the day.
So much so that I forget that it’s not real at all.
The disillusionment of reality setting in is depressing enough.
Then to remember how far away I am from the other party feeling even remotely the same.
All this time and all these years and it’s still in my face as if I’m still eyes deep in it.
Perhaps I’m completely submerged and I’m in denial.
I can’t believe I find myself tearing up over it again.
I envision being given another chance.
Being shot back to 17 again.
standing in that road.
A day after I destroyed it all.
Seeing her watery eyes meeting mine.
home.
I wouldn’t be able to stand. My composure would no longer exist.
I sometimes wonder if I’ll really ever see her again.
If I’ll ever be able to look in her eyes another time.
Although I’m aware it’ll be a look one would give a stranger if not an enemy.
I suppose it’ll always be like this for me.
Wishing, longing, and dwelling.
it seems to be beyond my control.
No matter where or what, it’s always behind me.
everyday it’s there in my head if not the entire duration of it.
I can’t believe this hole has taken up so much fucking space for so long.
I’ve stopped trying to fill it or cover it.
All I can do is sit near it and listen to the echos it seems to give off.
as if the void was a siren.
constantly luring me into this place of regret and despondency.
Wishing things were different or were handled differently.
Hoping I would just fall through the floor and end up back where it ended.
So I could take her by the hand and hold her face.
Tell her how deeply sorry I am for walking away.
and all would be different.
Even if she ended up miles and miles away in the end anyway, at lest it wouldn’t feel like this. At lest I wouldn’t have to look at it with profound remorse and such heavy loss.
I feel there is not many things more sorrowful than to mourn the loss of someone who still lives and has mostly forgotten you.
I suppose the most important thing is if she’s happy wherever she may be.
Who would I be to step in between that?
What would it make me to derail that and putting myself in front?
I understand the best thing to do is to leave it alone and keep it buried for her sake.
But it still tears me apart everyday.
It still feels weird not being connected. it still feels like something is missing when I don’t hear from her every night. Not talking deep into the night.
It still feels empty not hearing her giggle.
It still feels so surreal nearly 20 years later.
I suppose I’ll always have the memories, they seem to be my most vital possession. Without them, I feel like I would lose my identity.
Although, a part of me wishes they were erased. Maybe then, I wouldn’t be so disconnected from others. wouldn’t be so disinterested in anyone.
wouldn’t distance myself from everyone else I have been involved with.
Who would I be without this?
I can’t remember what it felt like to not have it.
It feels like I didn’t even exist before it.
I suppose these post are repetitive and annual.
I guess I’m in a little disbelief that nothing has changed here. I still remain to float in this, and I feel I will always. long after everyone is dead and gone.
I’ll still be in it.
I think the worst part of it is that it’s not totally uncomfortable.
Bloodtrails 