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

 

 

A Novelette: The Crystal Manor’s Secret

The Crystal Manor’s Secret

“Time heals all wounds,” he remembered someone saying. He thought it to be horse shit.

Simon is a 14-year-old dealing with plenty of things: depression, suicide attempts, parental issues, and being the subject of plenty of kids’ jokes at school. His parents take the advice of their son’s psychiatrist and go on a family vacation to the fabled Crystal Bay Estate.

This family trip, however, is anything but helpful. Read on to read the story in its entirety. Continue reading

Some Updates Coming Up

Greetings and salutations, folks.

The weekend is upon us, and that means a few things.

  1. Nintendo Switch is coming out, with all those lovely titles.
  2. It’s almost Friday.
  3. We are in March now. It’s also Brain Injury Awareness Month.
  4. The work week is coming to a close for some, while it’s beginning for others.

Real quick, I wanted to say that I will be reintroducing The Diary of the Wasteland Bear GodThe Chronicles of Bob: The Chronic Suicidal, and lastly, Johnny “Nightwalker” to get some folks acquainted with these series and their story.

What I want to showcase is the evolution of:

  • Writing and its stylization.
  • The change of an idea and its evolution; i.e. how a story goes from being stupid as balls, to something serious and being enjoyed.
  • Writing on a whim. You’re doing it for the self-thrill and without giving a damn what other people could care in regards.
  • Flexing your brain! Doing some of those “brain burpees” and tapping into some hidden talent you may possess.
  • Breaking out of a mold. Sure, it’s cool following in someone’s steps, but why be their shadow? Make your own light, your way.
  • That it’s OK to be different. Embrace it. Go strange! GO WIERD! “Be anything but normal.”

I might also compile all those cool things that I did when I had “Sammy the Samsung” do predictive text and stuff, too. Good times. Again, that’s a maybe. No promises.

I will be doing updated posts for The Bear God and Johnny Nightwalker. I really wanted to take my time moving things around and seeing what I could do. There’s a long list and well, I only have two hands. Seriously, I have a 500gb drive that’s almost filled up with outlines and other writing. I’ve started migrating that as well to cloud storage, but you know, paranoia sets in. I like having hard copies and hard, hard copies. Especially, with all these leaks, drips, pipe bursts, and mass media blowouts. OK, I’m overexaggerating that last bit a lot, but you get the gist. I hope.

I will also be sharing more personal experiences in regards to my accident, depression, PTSD, anxiety, weight loss journey, and more.

So, I invite you to stick around, maybe get some snacks and a drink. Get comfy. OK, maybe not too comfy to where you’re laying in bed.

I wish you all a great weekend. Stay safe, be well, and I wish you enough.

Cheers!

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.

My Own Prison: A Poem and Post

Prison. For most, they think it to be a building—a physical entity that exists to house criminals and wrongdoers. In most cases, however, a prison can also be one’s self. For the millions of those who suffer from depression, anxiety, post-traumatic stress disorder [PTSD] and many of the other mental illnesses and disorders, their mind is their own prison.

Built from the ground up, bit by bit, piece by piece. It can result from many things. For me: it’s been overcoming guilt. The burning anger that resides within. The negativity of several people and their dirty antics. The “what ifs?” The memories, though some blurry, of when I was on my antidepressants; the actions and things said. . .done. The immense sadness that dwells within. The constant twisting and shaping of how one can manipulate things against their own being. You realize it, you acknowledge it, and you know it to be a lie, but you can’t seem to overcome the grief that has besieged you and left you, seemingly, stranded.

Alone.

A fight for your life.

You have been tossed into shark-infested waters, and you are bleeding out.

My first therapist wasn’t horrible. He was just doing his job and trying to help me. You can’t help those who do not will to be helped or want it. I found it to be my punishment—to suffer—to slowly kill myself. Painfully. With the most potent malice ever conceived.

There were others that tried to help. Then there was the medication. Going to sleep for. . .what I believed was one day, turned into two or more sometimes. It hurt. I felt I was missing out on the most important of times, and it was unfair—to my daughter and my wife. . .and myself.

I was unstable. Anything and everything could set me off. The wind could blow the wrong direction and I would be having an anger attack. Eventually, I would do an unspeakable act that would convince myself; through a sort of out of body experience, that I needed to lose the medication and get proper help. That I needed to accept responsibility and be a man, a father, a husband. There were to be no more “woe is me” moments.

It would take time. . .

As time has gone on and that I went through EMDR therapy, my overall person has improved. I made changed, important and very much needed changes. I stopped being surrounded by negative people. I began exercising and losing weight (because I have always hated my body image). I stopped drinking alcohol in unnecessary consumption rates (I was an alcoholic, plain and simple in the end there. I became dependant on it).I started eating healthier. The food I did consume was not healthy and paired with soda, it bogged me down.

Simply enough, I didn’t care about myself. I didn’t love myself. I needed to change that. Being on the path to recovery doesn’t happen overnight and everyone is different.

“Get over it. That happened X years ago.”

“That still bothers you? Grow up.”

[At the intersection where the accident happened after finally being able to take my daughter home, away from the hospital, with my wife in the car behind me] “Sorry, I thought this would be the faster way. . .”

Being accused of wanting to kill my wife and daughter and using the accident to cover it up.

Those were a few of the many things said that were fuel added to the raging tempest I held within.

Time. Help. Understanding. Therapy. Changes.

That has been what has helped me. Good friends. Family. And making myself really change—for the better.

Every now and then, I get a dark spell, and that’s OK because it’s going to happen. I’ve been trying a new technique personally, and it’s helped. . .to a degree. Writing, however, has been the most helpful.

Normally, I’d never share my emotions or my thoughts. I figure, though, if someone can relate—someone can be helped, and that others out there that struggle can know that they are not alone in the fight. That there are rescue boats in these shark-infested waters with proper help for you. Then that’s fine with me. Because we are all pieces of a far grand puzzle than we can comprehend.

Stay strong and stay vigilant, friends.


My Own Prison

by Robert J. S. T. McCartney

Life undoes itself from me slowly as dare try to redeem
This prison
All these walls I’ve built up
Damn them
Damn me

I want to break free
From the binds that continue to keep me
Sometimes I only believe in self-absolving

But I know it to only be
I mustn’t keep fighting for me
For they are why I am here
The things I hold dear

Here

I will suffer through the pain
Because I have so much more to gain
Pain knows love just as well

As life knows death
Intermingled we are

The realization in which I now know
I do not suffer alone