SYWTSAD?

As the final of the supernatural flames finally went out, and my entire basement went pitch black as the lightbulb above me exploded, I stood there staring, thousands of things where flowing through my mind. "What was that?" "What is a Nephilim?" "Why am I so goddamn sore?" That last bit really lingered on my mind, I wasn't just sore outside, I felt like someone who never exerted themselves a day in their lives, and just lifted three-hundred pounds through adrenaline alone. It was a similar feeling to muscle strain, or maybe even a popped tendon, but deep inside, like the feeling you get from a sudden flood of sad emotions, that shock to the system, but throbbing and constant as opposed to sudden and painful. It felt like my soul hurt, like I had hurt something deep inside and I couldn't feel much beyond just that pain. Barely standing, I stood there, in the pitch blackness, continuing to contemplate, until I was suddenly slammed against the wall b...

Rolling out of bed this evening was troublesome. At first I thought maybe one of those Sleep Paralysis demons were real, and were sitting on my chest, but no. It was the soreness. Despite yesterday being mostly research, I still felt the soreness of my bones ringing in my head from the concussion the day before, as I looked at the ceiling, silently begging for death, I nearly jumped out of my skin at the fuckin' alarm clock going off. Flinging myself off the bed, I stumbled across my messy bedroom to the alarm clock that I kept at the other side of it, so I got up an hour or three before sunset. I figured I needed a drop or two of vitamin D to keep me alive... So a little bit of late-afternoon sun would do that for me. I stumbled downstairs to the timed-brew coffee pot I got for christmas from... someone? I can't rightly remember who now, better times maybe. I could never remember to ready the damn thing, so I started to scrub out the burned out coffee residue at the bottom, an...

The morning sun set over the horizon, the city in the distance providing a pitch black set of spires along a golden skyline, the smog hanging over it sort of smudging the image and giving it a ghostlike quality. I was standing on the back porch of my grandfather's house, a little hair o' the dog in my morning coffee (never hurt grandad) I just had the whole damn pot sitting next to me, so I didn't have to walk away from the setting sun while I sipped. The air was chilly today, a whisper of the coming autumn on the breeze, I absorbed every last ounce of this moment of normalcy, this time of peace in my world of chaos. This porch was a safety, it was my home, and it was my childhood. This was where cookouts where family set aside their differences and enjoyed the scent of charcoal and burgers, to drink too much and talk too loose, and I drew it all into myself, as if I was trying to squeeze every last good vibe I had on this porch into myself, to try to shove out the horrors ...