Now Available: The Chronicles of Bob: The Chronic Suicidal

Hey folks.

I wanted to drop a surprise—a treat if you will—and release the digital version of The Chronicles of Bob: The Chronic Suicidal.

The Chronicles of Bob_4

The Kindle, Paperback, and Hardcover version will be released in November (30). The Kindle cover art will be the same, whereas the print version will be different. As a special introductory invitation sort of deal…I made it available for $0.99.

I invite you to dig deep and find your balls, nuggets, goods—whatever you got, and read Bob’s tale.

Happy Friday tomorrow for some of you, and the rest…my condolences.

Until next time,

RJM

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Enough

Enough

by Robert J. S. T. McCartney

I’ve had it up to here,
There’s nothing left of me: no note, no tear.

I’m choosing to end it all,
By drawing a line, up and down these walls.

I’ve screamed and shouted, but nothing comes back to me,
This is the evidence that I’m not to meant to be.

I’ve had enough.
I had everything I could have ever wanted in life.

I’ve had enough.
A home, family, friends, and all that I could ever ask.

I’ve had enough.
The talk of the demons within,
They reassure me my life’s sin.

I’ve had enough.
I’m tired of it all.
I wasn’t strong enough.
I couldn’t stand above it all.

I’ve had enough.
I’m through with this life.
I’m done trying to be tough.
I’ll end it all with this knife.

So here I go getting everything ready,
I can’t lie it’s really scary.
But I know it’ll only hurt a little bit,
Before I know it I’ll be out of it.
I’m leaving it all behind,
Everything and everyone this is my suicide!

You said, I was a failure,
That I had no place in this world.
You said, I was a traitor,
That I was nothing and undeserved.

So I’ve had enough,
From you and all those who cast me aside.
I’m done, not to be gruff,
But I’m done trying to please all of you and abide.

Don’t revive me,
This is how it has to be.
I won’t survive,
So this is my final goodbye.

I have had enough.

Hanging on to a Thought

Even though you’re gone,
We’ll keep moving on.
You’ll be another thought—a memory,
Someone who was just like me.

You should hear the things that they say
That you “quit and threw it all away.”

That “you didn’t care about the rest world,”
“Selfish. Good riddance.” Other “sentiments” hurled.

Though, I know that you’re somewhere around,
Safely watching all the things that will become unbound.

They say it’s a joke, a cop-out, and easy to quit,
“Live. Let love.  C’mon, man, take another hit.”

To leave behind all that you love and make a great escape,
When we live and breed in a world full of greed and hate.

For when the demons have finally won, what more is there to say?
“Why did you give up. Why didn’t you stay?”

So often we say that we’re fine,
Debating, procrastinating, biding my time.

When will it be?
All this misery…

Too many times I’ve put it all down,
Not to let myself be consumed, pulled under and drown.
Letting others know that it’s not my time to go.
And though I smile and try to be strong,
My thoughts, they’re dark; caged, I don’t know how long.

Eventually, the dam will break,
All that has been locked away—will I wake?

It’ll be a day where there’s no preparation,
Maybe then we can have our conversation.

In the end, we die alone,
But in life we’re lights, shone.
To each other in the dark,
We guide one another, looking for our spark.

And so your story might have ended,
Those who are lost will continue to be tended.
Our invisible wounds from which that we bleed,
All the pain and agony inside which has sown its seed.

We’re not alone in our daily struggle,
But the world makes it harder to “love your neighbor.”
Frowned upon and looked down on,
Being called “a freak,” and “you should kill yourself.”

The problem isn’t us or those that already hurt,
It’s those that antagonize and do so spurt—
Content and think they’re “safe” behind their computer screen,
When they’ve never even met you or me.

So I understand why you felt you had to go,
I only wish you could have lived to see life so.

What wonders that maybe… the world will bring,
Even if though we’ll never hear you sing.

…Again…

Comfortably numb do I exist,
Still, I’ll fight and continue to resist.
The darkness and horror that lives within,
So that maybe others can be helped—that they can see what life’s like when it begins.


Rest easy, and thanks for all you’ve done.

This was also published on www.abnormalpublishing.com

A Poem: Bedtime

Bedtime

By Robert J. S. T. McCartney

As I lie here and rest my head
Next to you, where we’ve made our bed

In the dark, where my eyes dare play tricks
My view obscured by the plight of the night

The light, faint and ever growing tired, it mimics
A heart, and lungs, breathing

I often worry, though
That, how of which you lie
Restful slumber; your silhouette
Is as much as death, forever sleeping

So I cling and often toss and turn
Waking to the demons that dare try to come and take you away;
Wildly swinging, and shooing them tirelessly
“Begone, pest from another plane!” I growl

And so I’ll fight until my eyes do tire
The morning light comes, and then you stir
Then I can rest until the night comes again

As long as I have you by my side
I’ll try and try, defend and brave against the darkness and the demons that lurk

Otherwise…

I’m nothing without you
I can sleep when I eventually die

For my wife.

Stuff Coming. . .Soon.

Hello, everyone.

So, as some of you have seen (if you follow along or such) whether at http://www.abnormalpublishing.com or here, I have been reintroducing The Diary of The Wasteland Bear God series and The Chronicles of Bob: The Chronic Suicidal. I have since the conclusion of Bob’s end compiled it and been getting it ready for ebook and print formats. I am pleased to share that it will be made available this Summer, first for Kindle, and then roll out to print formats.

I will also be redoing my anthology Abnormal Side Effects, and The Lodestone Files: The Things in the Shadows. The second installment of The Lodestone Files dubbed The Cat, The Mouse, and The Thing From Another World was completed. It will also be available through Amazon. They’re just fun quick side projects that don’t impact my overall performance of getting stuff out, something I enjoy.

Once I get the last few installments of The Lodestone Files concluded, they will be compiled into an all in one package. Either a box set or a multipart book so you can open it up, read it, and know where you were. More on that later.

I am compiling Season One of The Diary of The Wasteland Bear God. . .however, there will be a lot of hurdles, so it’ll eventually just be a very detailed ToC (or Table of Contents). For now. There is licensing and a lot of legal work to go into. That’s fine, though.

I will be possibly completing that series as well. The more I thought about dragging it on and on, it didn’t seem really logical, and I hate cash grabs. I mean, sure, some are pretty cool and all but I don’t see the point in dragging out a series of 1,000 entries. I guess I’ll know for sure when I get to that bridge (and maybe jump off it). Regardless, I’ve enjoyed it and I have plenty more to do.

Johnny Nightwalker entries will be coming, thus leading to the stories conclusion.

I have several short stories and otherwise, that will be coming up soon. Time as of late has been passing rather fast. It needs to stop. For a moment at least. *sigh*

There’s a lot on my plate happening all at once. So, I just need to take a sit down, maybe have a pint, sit in the tub, get bubbly, call the Mrs. in.

Life is good otherwise. Hopefully, we can get our modified van for our oldest cub and legend. Possibly get Blizzcon tickets. Oh, and I found out my therapist is leaving the current place I go to for my PTSD, depression, anxiety treatment. I figured I would follow her as she goes out on her own. I found it funny, though seeing that once I get a therapist I do like they either leave, get transferred somewhere, or something like that.

Whew. Close one.

So far, I’ve had my depression, anxiety, and PTSD in check. I’ve had a few moments but that’s all they have been. The night is usually a stickler for saying “HEY! Guess what? You’re gonna be thinking about the worst. Things. Possible. EVER! K?” And then it’s fisty cuffs wth the brain until I pass out from exhaustion. It is what it is.

I’ll share some more posts of Bob and The Bear God soon. I would like to tackle some of this yard work that I’ve had my eye on doing. Again, busy, busy. There’s just no rest for the wicked, ha.

I wish you all well.

Until later,

RJM

 

 

Z

For our oldest princess (and cub), Zelda. Happy birthday, pumpkin. Mommy, daddy, and Aeris love you—always and forever.


Z

Today
Here and now
Celebration
Declaration

Of my oldest pride and joy
Reminiscing
Forgiving
A pain that won’t go away

I’ve watched you grow
From a baby to a young girl
You smile and it warms my heart
But still I can’t let go

Yesterday
It hurts the most
For that’s when I cried
The hardest. Ever. In my entire life.
The thought of losing you, and your mom—my wife

My life
I thought, was over

So I would sit

In the dim lit
Room of darkened thoughts

Reasoning
Blaming

Guilt
Swelled over the wall

I had built up
To keep all out
It came crumbling down

I was a father
A husband
All in one day
But
Would I remain that way?


Tomorrow
I know that the day will come
To let you out of my arms
But before then
I’ll tell you
I love you
Every day
I remain

Just know though
That I’m sorry
For the things that others say
But I know though
That if they knew you
And the place from which you came

They’d say “thank you”
For showing us
Angels really exist

And though I may cry
For when I say goodnight
At the thought of it being the last

I know though
That one day
I’ll see you with us once again
And it’s not the last

My warrior princess
Made from power and wisdom
You are my courage
And our love

Pure and everlast

You are our Zelda
Our little miss sass

Poem: Black

Black

by Robert J. S. T. McCartney

All these scenes I’ve painted black,
To hide the pain, I’ve yet to have attack—

Me; nay, us, for the day will eventually come,
An assassin lying in waiting, where it shall strike from?

They say to “go in faith” and “take this tome,”
Tis often true, tragedy strikes close to home.

Where I’ve found myself on my back,
crippled from a fall; an attempt to snap—

My neck, my limbs, my life. . .broken,
The words I’ll never utter, never spoken.

As darkness comes and overwhelms what I see,
I know you’ll never understand who I really was. . .me.

“It’s better this way” I once thought,
To give up, that it’s all for naught.

However, I’ve learned that there is much more, to this thing called life.
And that is why I am so happy to have you as my wife.

Though, I fight, the right and wrong; with the light and dark,
I know you’ll be there to guide me along the way, on this journey we embark.

For I now see, I was selfish and wrong,
That alone, I was weak but together, we are strong.

The scenes will become clear, and on that day, we may weep,
For when one goes down to eternal sleep.

That’s alright because at least we will be there,
No one else, with nothing left to care.


This was originally posted on A.B.Normal Publishing’s site.

Suicide: A Poem and Post

Depression, anxiety, PTSD, and other disorders. Let none rule your life and hold you down. Talk about your problems. We all live together, in one shape or form.

For several years, I’ve struggled with depression. As such, I’ve attempted suicide a few times, often to make it look like an accident. From much trauma, chaos, and disorder, I went through adolescence and went without help.

Now, after enduring with my PTSD and anxiety; coupled with depression, I sought out help. It’s taken many years and many sessions. . .but so far, so good. I’ve learned to cope, to deal, and to make the best out of things.

Everyone handles their stress, depression and such differently. It’s good to talk about things that are occurring and impacting your life. Just know this, you are not alone in the fight.


My Suicide


To some, it’s a taboo,
To others, it’s nothing new.

It’s a choice we’ve come to make,
Either to live or die.

Fake.
Cry.

Alone.
Atone.

Always putting on a front,
Being told it’s just a stunt.

It’s ours to take.
A choice.

Live.
Born.

Give.
Die.

Abstract; we live in denial,
The End, its impact; a hung jury, mistrial.

I, too, have suffered and wandered alone,
I’ve tried plenty; to also push beyond it and overcome grief.

At times, it’s gotten to be the end,
There was always a reason to stay, it was just beyond me.

Now when I look into your eyes, I know I was right,
Being led through the dark, with you as my light.

I’ve killed myself and let go,
All the feelings of pain and guilt.

No more hate or regret,
Of the things that could have, should have been.

Silhouette.
Forget.

Sin.
Has-been.

Empty words to try and make it worse,
To lay us to waste and curse—

A reminder: for we are all one in the same, just trying to make it through the day.
Don’t be scared of the darkness or give it blame, this I say.

Call it friend.

For I tell you, friend, this is not your end.
I will not influence your choice for if you are set, but let me tell you: life is a test.

Trials we must face and endure. Make the best of any situation, even in death.
For when you take your last breath, sigh in relief. Friends help friends, even strangers; close and far, through grief.

I wish you well, friend, and to those very same who may suffer alone.

Here is my hand, let me help. Here is my ear, let me listen. Here are my lips, heed my words. These are my eyes, they see you.

May you be, released from your prison. . .be free.


Originally was posted on A.B.Normal Publishing

 

Expectations

What are your expectations? It doesn’t matter if it’s in business, life, a career, sex, your spouse (or significant other/mate), food, eating out, a new video game, your president, your government, etc.

Where did you set the bar? High? Low? Somewhere in the middle? Do you set certain expectations high in your list that only you know about?

With people nowadays, you can see something like:

“10/10. Would bang again.”— Internet Troll

“Drove like a snail in rush hour traffic. Wouldn’t recommend. 1 star.”— Anon Uber App User.

or maybe something like:

“They looked great but was horrible in the sack. Also found out now I have The Clap.” — Anon, Booty Call App User

I mean, we have a president that uses Twitter to influence others; ratings can go up or tank at a single whim.

This leads to the next point: Reviews—they’re similar you know. In fact, they’re mostly just the faux mask that covers “expectations.” You are reviewing your expectations and addressing those expectations of an establishment, book, place, person, etc.

Some folks nowadays can’t function very well out in the world without the strong opinion of “the elite.” You know the folks that are on Yelp that say “Elite ’15, 16, 17,” and so on? Or “highest reviewer” accredited to their username via Google+.

No, I am not one of those folks.

There are tons of horrible people, sure. However, there are a lot of good people in the world too. We’re humans. It is expected. You can sort and sift through reviews and you get a glance—a glimmer of what type/kind of person someone is. Not only by their history of visits, purchase history, and the sort but by how you are being told how they interacted with whoever they are reviewing [this also constitutes an establishment, customer service, etc.].

“I had a bad experience here. They threatened my fish.” — Anon

“Food was horrible. I wouldn’t even consider bringing it home and giving it to my dog.” — Anon couple; I actually overheard this one.

There are millions of reviews out there. Those who feel the need to make a point. Those who must feel the need to feel needed. Those that seek others satisfaction.

Ah, the Digital Age.

The Internet is a wonderful, yet, scary place to be on. You have an insurmountable wealth of knowledge and tools. Yet we spend hundreds to thousands of hours watching cat videos. Fragging people [Nothing wrong with that, game on! And yes, that is me being bias.]. Stealing other peoples’ identity. Hacking elections. Ousting pedophiles that have horrible images on their computer drives. I can keep going.

Technology has changed us—humanity. The human race. Technology knows no racial bias (except maybe console versus PC; Sony vs. Microsoft, .etc but that’s reaching at best.). It knows what we have programmed it to be. What we want it to be. What advances we want. Cures. Curse. Death. Damage. What can we do to inflict unto others? The good intermingled with the bad and vice versa.

You may ask, “What the hell does that have to do with expectations? Why did you bring up reviews? Who the hell threatens a fish?”

Well, we expect a lot. So much from businesses, people, schools, etc. Our family. Some men expect women to put out on the first date. We expect food to be hot (or cold) and served at our preference. We expect to be put first, high up on a pedestal. Some people expect their religion is right and is superior to another person’s. We expect the loser to go home crying. . .with a participation trophy. We expect too much—as a society, a whole. It’s a path that can—and will—lead us to our downfall. We cater too much, while not giving a damn about consequences. Enter your “keyboard warriors,” cyber bullies, trolls, etc.

Great expectations.

We are not a community that is so transparent. Well, we are. . .when it comes to greed. But that’s another lengthy discussion, though. We’re not a close-knit community that really backs each other up, helps one another without expecting something in return, gratification, or simple enough—money.

Technology has sped up our dehumanization and desensitization. When we are able to truly modify our bodies as cyborgs and/or androids, will a person even care about anyone else? Would we still exist as being. . .human?

That “eternal salvation” of uploading your memories and consciousness to the Internet (Transcendence on crack), while say, a meteor that will destroy mankind indefinitely here on Earth, but elsewhere in the galaxy or universe, we are beamed via satellite signal to space and wake up in new sleek android models. It was just a few seconds in delay to us, but in actuality, it was a hell of a long time.

I digress. Simply put, times have changed. The radical evolution of societal influence and lack of actual human interaction, the lessening of empathy, lack of sympathy, morals tossed out the window, common sense that is now rare, and so on.

We often like to say that we are the superior race, especially, when it comes to man versus beast. However, are we really that much better? Cool—poseable thumbs, a large neocortex, “alleged capabilities of complex problem solving, and operating weapons of mass destruction.” Sure, I guess we are. I suppose I would say that sardonically, because I know even after we are all gone, Nature will go on without us. It has for millions of years and will.

Sure, I guess we are. I suppose I would say that sardonically because I know even after we are all gone, nature will go on without us. It has for millions of years and will continue to.

You can consider this, I suppose a young person rambling on. Perhaps. But would you disagree? That there are a lot of issues that are presented here that are of importance and relevant, that are just tossed aside like everyday refuse? Swept under the rug. Dismissed and barred from public discussion because it’s a “no-no” and would make someone else upset and they might break out the whips and chains [Not the good kind either.].

Suicide, depression, anxiety, PTSD [Post Traumatic Stress Disorder], bullying, all of these and more are getting quite out of hand. As a sufferer of one of these many. . .side effects. . .I’ve made it my way of life to explore them, help others, learn other peoples’ stories and experiences, and even just listen. We all bleed the same. We all break. When, how, and why, though will come in to question.

So, you will see posts about suicide. Depression. Anxiety. PTSD. Other mental health issues and such. Writing is my therapy. It’s my way of sharing with others. Though it may be fiction in some ways, you do not have to feel silenced, judged, oppressed. With how news, media, and press are getting gagged, misinformation everywhere, etc. What’s next? Writers of fiction and non-fiction are hunted? We’ll see, right?

While I hope to entertain people, make it my career, provide expectations, get reviewed—I do it for myself. Do you want to know who my most cynical critic and ball-breaking is? It’s me. Granted, I am changing that way to not giving a damn completely, it’s still a process. I want to write just for the pure enjoyment I get out of doing it; being a god amongst men and women, creating worlds, life. In the very same manner—becoming death, chaos, a destroyer of worlds and relationships.

I could go on and on. . .though I would like to know: what are your expectations in life right now?

I will end with one of my favorite quote from the movie Legend with Tim Curry and Tom Cruise.

“The dreams of youth are the regrets of maturity. Dreams are my speciality. Through dreams, I influence mankind.” — The Lord of Darkness; Tim Curry

I wish you all well. Be safe and take care. The world is a mess. . .but it is a beautiful mess under all those bandages.

RJM

 

P. S. While I reintroduce some works, I invite you to check out a free ebook on the Kindle store: Abnormal Side Effects. If it’s not free for your region, then I invite you to a free copy here.

Feel free to talk with me, too. I don’t bite. Too hard.