Silence in the causeway of life

You really won't know what you're getting into until you're neck deep into it

A new place can be entirely foreign

And while it may seem nice like the warm interior of a warren

It's dark and barren

It fills your head with the ideals of kindness that rise above it all on the wings of a great   blue heron

Confidence soars and hope rekindles for the fact that you're surrounded by the people you        consider friends

Keeps that hope on the never ending spindle that is life.

But the string breaks in the dirt and dismay

Rubbed away by the shit of humanity that's coarse and grating that fucks with our mind And makes that shit look shiny

Like crows we gravitate

And obviate our doubts

Poised at the starting gate

Controlled by the magistrate

Taught what to think and feel and the feel?

Well it never goes away

The pain of the grating lies of humanity raking down my sides

Permeating my soul and destroying my heart

You try to go back

Back to the times and the rhymes of a world before that no longer registers your presence

You've slipped away beyond their gaze and into a haze that blocks off the mental           receptors

Of the defectors that had once called you friend

Now only fleeting conversation of the barest minimum to keep a meager bond of fake    fossilized friendship that fails to fly higher than 'oh hi'

You fall into yourself the dark shit stained world of your fear and self loathing

Coating you

Leaving your mind choking

Roaming in the broken coding that sears your irises in the smoking remnants of your                   sanity

All you can say to anyone is profanity driven by insanity

And vanity?

It says to never look up, to never see another person the same way as before,

In a false hope to protect what is left of your pride taken like a whore left to rot on the   ground floor of a building called war

We rationalize our ideas to justify our means that never cease to account for our own     misgivings

But the thing is you have to look up, you have to look up and to the sky

For if you don't, you'll have to let your family prepare for a prisoner of war killed by their           own mind

But if you do

If you look up and out of the choking darkness that seize the roots of your mind you'll see          light

A light that says you're all right

And it might

Hurt like the bright white wash of winters crystals

To the eyes of the blight that only sees well in the night

But the light can wash away the blight and invite so much more

I could say it gets better

But it won't always be that way

As much as we deny it or try to hide it the world is still covered in that polished shit that             we can barely escape it

But you can learn how to deal with it

To not allow that black kite to hold itself aloft over the bomb site of your fragile mind

You can learn to turn to that black blight and shout out

"Fuck you"

Because you're better than the blackness

Life sucks when you don't have talent

I feel like creativity is something that has become an enterprise rather than a form of expression unique to a person and to their talent and soul. Artists, musicians, and any person who does a creative work seem to be bound to an unwritten set of rules that are forced upon us with no choice in the matter.
I ask, why?
Why must we be forced to abide by a guideline of how we should and should not write? Why should all art be realistic? Has not some of the art you may have seen not be realistic in the slightest sense of the word but you are still undoubtably attracted to the piece? most likely you thought yes. Whether it be cartoon or surrealist ink blots on canvas, art is not something that can be graded and scored upon, but it always is.
Society now-a-days is built upon money and greed. We find every excuse to limit peoples choices in the world, and if you're not talented you're weeded out to do the menial tasks that the big wigs and prized talented people don't want to do. If you're not talented now we are told we will never be. If we don't figure out what we want to do for the rest of our menial grub fucking lives we are told we will never ammount to anything and that life will be fickel towards us.
And I can't say that what 'they' say isn't completely wrong. Life IS hard and will be hard unless we have some idea on where we want to go.


I realize that this post is probably a major downer on everyones day, but, you have to admit it is true.

Creation of Interest

When you become so invested within something, a series, a book, a comic, anything, there is always some inkinlg in the back of your mind that longs to come out and become a part of the fandom. A character, a setting, an alternate universe, but more often than not a character.
Sometimes it's more than one that come out of the crevices of your mind and become realised through thought and care.
For me it was multiple characters I made within the Homestuck fandom. It started with Thiija, my most original character. After her was Deyria. Becomeing so attatched to Dey, Thiija got lost within my mind and she separated off inot my fourth character, Richer, who I created after Mathis my second character. Now, my fourth was Sarian. Sarian has grown more than a lot of my other characters.


Working with your character allows you to know them, to work with them and get into their minds, developing them further than they had when you originally made them.
At the start Sarian was a rather two dimensional character with garrish pink blood (trolls within the Homestuck universe have different colored blood) and a rather shit attutude. Most would see this a an okay character that would be good enough for the fandom, but I didn't see it as such. I saw him as unfinished, 2D, and rather on the border of being a mary sue. At the time I really didn't care too much about his blood color, only going off of things that I liked. But I realised that It bothered me to know that some people would have something against his color as it generally would not show up in the hemospectrum, the range in which blood colors can be in.
I really began to flesh him out and give him depth of character and personality. I created an entire history for him and his ancestor, Vantaris, as well as where his story will go on to. Even now as I continue to use Sarian, I am still working with his character, still fleshing him out as I go along.
Since his craetion Sarian has become a complex character with his own internal strife and battles that drive him to do certain things and act certain ways. He has become a blue blooded sea-dweller, meaning that he is incrediblt rare and a genetic abberation. This doesn't mean that he's a mary sue, genetically speaking its possible to happen just not very often. With this being an abberation but still part of the ruling hierarch species, he was preyed upon and his childhood was a mess. Which drove him to become hard and cold and ambitious to become better than all of the people he knows and to be seen as not the abberation that he is but as the high blooded seadweller that he is and longs to be. But on the inside he is still longing to be accepted and to be kind and nice to others but he can't do it. Both of fear for what he will be seen as and the morals and rules ingraned into his mind that he cannot break easily because it was what he was taught as a child. In actuality he is completely reluctant to harm anyone and prefers to use bolas as his weapon, which only harm if you really mean it to. Even then bolas only go as far as to break bones and disable rather than harm. He doesn't show this pasifistic mentality, prefering to show himself as a fighter and a troll who kills without remorse. He can do it he just prefers not to. In a way this comes from his ancestor, Vantaris, who was notable for torture and ruthless information gathering. Within this sadistic love of inflicting pain Sarian gets a rush from it but gets a deep feeling within himself as to why he is doing this. More often than not he doesn't listen to that feeling, more often than not that feeling dies within him and is rekindles at another time. Within his persona he has an internal battle with himslef and what right and wrong is. But it is a loosing battle with what he his taught and what is is hown nature than what could be seen as morals.
Within his hard personality he pushes people away. Creating his own void of hate and resentment but also keeps alive his desperate longing for acceptance.


Sarian is still a character continually being worked on and he is far from done. I'm sure by later he will have progressed and changed as a character.

Problem of Doubt

As a creative person, in both drawing and writing, I am plagued with horrible self doubt. I constantly get through a character's bio or part way through a story and I start to wonder to myself "Is this really good? Will people really like it as much as I do?" Thus begins my spiral of hate and detestation for myself.
More often than not it begins when I see another person's fan character for a series. I see how awesome that character is how simple yet how deep they are. And I start by usually jokingly  say how much more awesome thir character is to mine and I then begin to look at my character.
"Why are they like this?"
"Gog, I haven't even thought of these elements."
"How can I even say this character is done?"
I start to doubt my designs, thinking how I could make them better or more awesome compared to this other person's character. Most likely, if anything, that causes my doubt is the person's skill in artwork. More often than not a person's character who could be concidered 'bad art'never phases me. But as soon as I see a character who is made by a respected artist or drawn well, I seem to doubt my own.
Now most people I know would tell me that there is nothing wrong with them, but I'll still doubt myself.

Odd day on -- Part 2 ((4 Chords fic))

It was nearly ten o'clock by the time Mathis got back from his package runs. He shoved his way into his apartment, dropping his bag haphazardly in the entryway. The lights to his kitchen were on and what seemed to smell like someone's half assed attempt at making soup was being made. "Hello?" Mathis said tentatively. A bright orange mop of excitable energy poked her head out of the kitchen door.

"Mathis! You're back!"

Mathis flopped into his computer chair and rubbed his eyes. "Deyria, I thought I told you that key was for emergencies only?"

She looked to the ceiling as if to formulate a clever lie. She was always good at lying. Mathis guessed that's why she was good at jobs like retail and her aspirations of being a lawyer or some such complicated mess that Mathis could never wrap his mind around. "Wanting to try out a new recipe on you is an emergency." She said, complete seriousness on her face this time.

Mathis sighed and turned to his computer, "Whatever makes you happy, Dey." Deyria let a little squeak of joy as she disappeared into, what Mathis now assumed to be, her evil laboratory of mediocre cooking. Wiggling the mouse the computer woke with a start and a light whoosh as the fans started up within the CPU. His chat client was blinking. Mathis knew that he probably shouldn't talk to this person in his already less than desirable mood, but he could never resist the blinking of the tab on the start bar. He clicked it opening the message:

TA: you 2ure are a piiece of work you know that mh?

Sollux. Figures, with the way that Mathis had exited the prior face-to-face conversation and his complete disregard for the fragile feelings of Feferi, that this would happen. Mathis was tempted now to just close the chat entirely and forget about it all, but Sollux interjected again.

TA: ii can 2ee you onliine mh

TA: don't try to hiide

TA: you know you'll have two talk 2ooner or later

Mathis continued to stare at Sollux's one sided conversation, his hands resting on the keyboard the typing icon blinking with faithful patience in the text box.

PD: Why do you even care?...

TA: the lonely boy 2peak2

PD: Shut up... and answer my question...

TA: ii care becau2e ii care for ff

TA: obviiou2ly more than you do

PD: I care for Fef more than you know!... that's why I had to leave her behind so she wouldn't get wrapped up in all of my shit...

Sollux paused in his writing and Mathis stared at his screen wanting to burn a hole through it. He cared for Feferi, which is why he had to push her away, to keep her out of his problems, to let her have a normal life. He didn't even know if she felt the same way about him that he did for her.

TA: faiir enough

TA: but you could have done all of thiis wiith a biit more tact

PD: Whatever...

--twinArmageddons has ceased pestering you--

Mathis sat stoically staring at the last log. 'Fair enough', fair enough? Like hell it was. Nothing was fair when your life was dictated on the times you have to go into court and persecute your father. Persecuting him was not hard, he tried to kill him he as every right to persecute him and he will, it was showing his face in the court and silently screaming out to the world "Look at me I'm the son of a killer!". He lost a lot of jobs this way from people afraid of him, he would had done nothing, afraid of what he could do or what his father had done. It annoyed him so much, that people could make such snap judgements of him when he had done nothing. Mathis kicked his computer, leaving a dent in the shiny silver surface, and shoving him across the room on the slick wheels of his char. Deyria poked her head out of the kitchen a damp wooden spoon in her hand.

"What the fuck is bothering you now?" She sighed and placed her hands on her hips. "You've been in a foul mood ever since you walked through that door. Is it because I'm here?"

"No, Dey, I--"

"Then what is it?"

Mathis sighed and rubbed his temples, "The past. Finding me when I don't want it to."

Her face gained a knowing look. "Ohh.. Oh Mathis, I'm so sorry."

"Don't." He put up his hand, his eyes still closed. "Don't pity me. I don't need that kind of shit right now."

She was quiet for a while, twisting the spoon in her grasp. "Mathis, I care about you and I want to help you." She crouched down in front of him, one hand on his knee, like a mother to a mopey child. "And I can't do anything unless you tell me what is bothering you."

"You sound like my mother." He mumbled into his shirt.

"For all intents and purposes I am your mother. I practically do your job sometimes."

"Only in the mornings."

"I bring your fricking first package to your mail slot every day!" She laughed. "Now, stop avoiding the question. What came back?"

He sighed and stared into the space in front of him. "Feferi."

"Wow." Deyria said raising her eyebrows in awe. "I would have thought that reunion would be one of the happiest moments of your life. Seeing as the happier times you regale me with." She stood and walked back into the kitchen, but it didn't stop her from grilling him for more information. "So... What turned the reunion sour?"

Mathis propped his feet up on the desk and stared at his toes. He'd really rather not get into all of this, he'd rather shove it all away and forget about it, but he knew Day and he knew she wouldn't give up until she got the answers she was looking for. "Oh you know, only that I found out that she's dating a guy I play online games with. Small fucking world huh."
"That's like a one in a million chance of something like that happening." She popped out of the kitchen again and pointed the spoon at him. "You either need to get a shitload of lotto tickets right now or never step within thirty kilometers of a casino for the rest of your life."

"Thank you for your pearls of wisdom in my time of complete and utter despair, Deyria."
"Always a pleasure to teach you, Mathis!" She said, flouncing back into the kitchen. "But I don't really see how him being a gamer online is such a horrible fact that you need to act like it's the end of the world."
"It wasn't him that bothered me to begin with. It's that Fef still remembered everything. That she still knew my face after all... this." He motioned to the scars on his face event hough Deyria couldn't see his gesture. His face wasn't terribly scarred but enough for people to notice from time to time. The biggest one ran like a slash across his face, up his right cheek and narrowly avoiding his eye. Second biggest was one that crossed over his right jaw, and the smallest of which cut across his mouth.

"Well," She paused, "I don't know what to tell you to make you feel better. I can only remind you of stuff."
"Like what?"

Deyria returned from the kitchen, a steaming bowl of something in her hands and a towel over her shoulder, and said "Like, you have a court date tomorrow?"

"Ugh, don't remind me."

"Already did." Deyria set the bowl in front of Mathis' feet on the table. "Now eat this. I want to know what you think." Bringing his feet down, Mathis rolled back over to the computer table and took a tentative sip of the magma hot liquid. It seared his tongue and burned his throat all the way down, but it sat in his stomach like a hot stone; odd but comforting and satisfying. Deyria looked at him expectantly. "Well?"
Mathis paused and continued to stare at the bowl, tapping the spoon on it's ceramic edge. He stareted to raucously laugh, "It sucks!" He said in breathy gasps.
"Shut up!" She smacked his shoulder with the towel and laughed as well. "It's good and you know it!" Mathis hadn't laughed like this for a while. Maybe tomorrow would be a better day, past all the nastiness of court trials, and he could get on with his mediocre life.

Odd day on -- Part 1 ((4 Chords fic))

The cacophony of city life always started early, even earlier in the city center. A phone rang and Mathis covered his head with his pillow. He didn't want to work today, dodging city cars and idiotic pedestrians too absorbed in nothing to pay attention to his speeding form whipping round the corner. Inevitably at least once this week he'll have flipped over his handle bars and beaten up some part of his body. Most of the time it was his knees, which he hid under the thick fabric of his pants, but others it was his hands or arms. Any sensible bike courier would have called Mathis an idiot for not wearing protective gear like a helmet, but he liked the danger and excitement of going without. His phone rang again, screeching warble of a sound. Seemed to always sound like a cat being fitfully strangled, or just having it's tail stepped on. Mind, Mathis never had a cat so he was going off of imagination.
He sat up, the pillow falling form his head in silent defeat, and rubbed his face giving the phone a healthy glare. Leaning over he grabbed it from the hook ,silencing the piercing warble of its ring.
"Yeah?" He said continuing to rub his face. "What is it?"
"Farrin!" A gruff voice boomed on the other end of the call. Mathis moved it from his ear the harsh sound jostling his sleepy mind. "This is the fourth time I've called! Get your lazy ass out of bed and get to work!"
mathis sighed and put his head in his free hand. Today was not going to be a good day. "Okay, okay, just... stop yelling."
"I'll yell if I damn well want to! There are packages piling up here and you need to get on your route, now!" Mathis could just picture is boss, the usually squirrly guy would be red faced and spitting fire into the mic of the phone.
"Alright, alright, I'm coming." He hung up. "Geeze..." Running his hands through his hair he walked to the sliding glass door of his tiny apartment and pulled the curtains back. Strong light ripped through the happy darkness of his apartment, and Mathis groaned in distaste. He hated mornings. Hated getting up, leaving the nice comfy warmth of his bed, and going out into the cold morning air. Even colder on a speeding bicycle. Retreating from the strong natural light flooding in from his window he began getting ready for the day ahead. 
Splashing water on his face to fully wake up, he changed into the black t-shirt and cargo pants that he wore on a daily basis, packed his neon blue sling-bag with various things he might need (water, poncho for the odd day it rains, ductape for any time he busts a tire which is surprisingly not that often but still), and of course putting on the custom made leather bracers to hide the deep gashes and cuts on his forearms from a nightmare long past. He always wore them, hiding the scars that would brand him as that child of that Farrin to any person in the public. He could never hide the scars that adorned his face but at least he could blame those on his job. Wiping out more often than not did help in that respect. Also didn't help that he was named after him. Mathis was short for Metthias but he never ever liked being called anything but Mathis.
He strapped his neon blue and yellow bag onto his back, the only splash of color in is ornery black duds, slipped on his well used converse (also black) and exited his messy apartment, locking the door behind himself. Mathis would really prefer doing something else this early in the morning than ferrying packages from point A to point B. Anything, even something as mundane as talking to those two weirdos that Mathis played games online with. What were their screen names... carcinaoGeneticist and twinArmageddons. CG and TA for short. The former always seemed to use his caps lock far too much, which always made it seem as though he was screaming, and the latter had a penchant for using '2' and 'two' as well as double 'i''s in his writing, always making it seem as though he had a lisp. Mathis stopped in the middle of the hall of his apartment complex, looked to his watch then stared straight ahead and promptly turned 180, returning to his apartment. "I have time." Mathis thought. His boss already knew he was chronically late so one moderately late morning was nothing new. He stopped again before his door and dashed back down his hall to the place where the mail was usually stored. Opening his box he pulled the medium sized package and returned to his apartment.
Mathis' floor mate and friend Deyria always brought his first package to his apartment, one of the few ways Mathis was most likely holding his job. Returning to his apartment he flopped into the semi-comfortable chair that sat in front of his computer screen and turned on the chat client he used. They were on, they always seemed to be on, at least CG always seemed to be on. Did that kid ever even sleep? TA was also on, he was online less than CG but still was on more that Mathis ever was. He began to type:


PD: hello?...
CG: OH GREAT, YOU'RE ON.
PD: well that almost sounded like you weren't all to happy to see me on....
TA: hii PD
PD: hey...
CG: DON'T YOU HAVE A JOB TO DO?
TA: don't you?
CG: SHUT UP.
TA: hehehe
PD: yeah, I probably won't be on long, gotta deliver this package...
CG: WHO IS IT TO?
TA: kk your not 2uppo2ed two a2k tho2e 2ort2 of que2tiion2
CG: I CAN ASK IF I DAMN WELL WANT TO!
PD: it's okay, you guys probably don't live anywhere near me anyway...
PD: shit.. i'll tell you but then i have to go...
TA: 2uiit your2elf
PD: uhh...


He inspected the white and back tag that adorned the front of the package. Most of it was technological crap only to be read and understood by computers but there was the name and address of the receiver of the package, or how else would  he know where to bring it.


CG: SO? WHAT'S THE FUCKASS'S NAME?
PD: uhh... Sollux Captor
PD: bye...
TA: waiit, what?


Mathis leaped of the computer, snatching up his bag in one smooth movement, not even pausing to log off the chat client. He was later that he should have been and he knew he was going to get a verbal beating from his boss. Blasting out the double doors of his complex he unhitched his bike from its locked stand and took off on it with a running start. He was fast on his bike and good at dodging every person, which made him one of the better couriers in New York. He would never be the best, what with his chronic lateness and ability to wipe out over a pebble, but being known as 'better than average' was good enough for him. He jumped his bike off the curb weaving through the stopped traffic, yellow and black of cabs staining the metallic rivers of cars with their eye catching motif. He glanced back at the package under his arm, skimming the address one more time. he wasn't terribly far from the destination but far enough to put his nerves on edge of being late. Hypocritically he hated delivering packages late despite never turning up to work on time. Like birds streaking through the sky the thin wheels of his bike rushed over the black pavement blurring the harsh edges of rock and stone. He easily hopped a curb then quickly careened into an alleyway narrowly avoiding a gaggle of pretentious teenaged girls. Their outraged squawking followed him down the alley, he didn't care really moderate outrage from random groups of people barely phased him anymore. How long had he been at this job? Four, five months? Something around that. The alley was one he used often and favored for getting him quickly from the lower parts of town to the higher class areas, it didn't get him directly there but it got him closer faster than any other route he could have taken. A few more minutes and dodging through and around various tunnels, cars, and groups of absent minded pedestrians, he reached the street in question for the package. Relaxing back in his seat Mathis allowed his bike to coast along the quieter street, both hands holding the package that sat in his lap. He has grown skilled with his balance while on this job that fact is for sure. Before this he probably wouldn't have been able to take one hand off the handles let alone both and especially not in the ways he's been riding recently. That is to say, recklessly but with finesse and grace. He'd like to think that he made being a bike messenger look like an art-form but he more likely looked like a charging black and blue blurr, an evil charging bruise, and he knew it. The townhouse block came up sooner than he expected, sort of in the middle of the row of houses, and he parked his bike at the foot of the steps leaning it against the iron railing taking the steps two at a time. He pressed the small white doorbell button, hearing the pleasant chime within.
"Coming!" A muffled voice said from within. Mathis' eyes began to look everywhere but the door, his foot gently tapping against the concrete landing. "Alright." He heard the voice say, there must have been someone else inside. Unless this person was crazy. It was possible in a big city, though as to why they'd be in such a nice place was beyond him. The lock on the door twisted and unlatched. There in the doorway was a tall guy with short brown hair. His eyes were mostly hidden by what looked to be a pair of old style 3D glasses (one lens being red and the other blue) and his shirt was color blocked with red, blue, yellow and white. These would all seem tacky on just about anyone but he pulled it off well, really well.
"Uhh... Package for a one, Sollux Capt--"
"PD."
Mathis looked surprised at what (whom he suspected was) Sollux had said. "'Scuse me?"
" If I remember correctly you're the one who thaid,  it'th okay, you guyth probably don't live anywhere near me anyway?"
Mathis' eyes widened, "Holy shit..."
"Sollux! Who is it?" A peppy sounding girl with long dark hair squeezed under his arm. Mathis' jaw clenched. "shit" he thought to himself. "Oh... Mathis! It's been so long!" She lunged out and hugged Mathis around his neck.
"Feferi." This was all a bit too much.
"You know thith guy?" Sollux questioned her.
"Oh yes! We grew up together! Though he moved away after... an incident." Her voiced faltered when she said incident.
"You still remember that." Mathis began to back off a bit, still holding the package.
Feferi looked almost surprised at Mathis' response, "How could I forget. I alway wondered what happened to you."
Mathis incredulously flopped his arms in the air. "Just great you know. I go out on a normal run find the girl I grew up with is now dating," He tossed the package off to Sollux which he caught nimbly "the guy I play online games with. Small goddamn world we live in, isn't it." He started to trudge down the stars but returned to shove the electronic register into Sollux's chest. "Just sign for your damn package." Sollux picked up the stylus and signed his name, a look of disdain on his face. Mathis pulled a sarcastic smile, "Have a nice day." He said leaping down the full flight of stairs and pedaled away as fast as he could. He always ended up doing this, pushing away everything and anyone from his past life, or what he considered to be his past life. He wanted nothing to do with any of it, with anything that reminded Mathis of him.  It disgusted him to think about it.
Feferi stood on the landing watching as the bright blue bag that Mathis wore disappeared around the bend. It felt as if her heart had sunk to her toes, this was definitely not how she had wanted things to go when she met up with him again.
"That wath him wathn't it? The kid you alwayth talk about." Sollux said, a minute amount of concern within his voice.
Feferi nodded, "Yeah."
"The kid who'th Dad tried to kill him?"
"Yeah, that's him." Feferi turned from the depressing scene of the street corner and leaned into Sollux's chest.

Finding people who are fans of the same thing as you, and being accepted by them

It's often hard to be fully accepted into a fandom when you come inot it in the middle. More often than not people have their own little groups and it ends up acting like a high school lunch room in junior year. Everyone is content with where they are and isn't at all too happy with new people.


But when you get into a fandom, in my case Homestuck, and people accept you into it no matter how new or old you are to the series that is the most awesome thing that could happen. When you can jump into a chatroom RP with your own character, spawned from the creativity of your own thought, and people interact with you and are laughing with  you on all the things you expierience is awesome. To start a silly conversation with two other people cosisting solely out of two words you repeat over and over and having it impossible to keep the laughter inside is awesome.


Finding friends who, even though you never met them and might not ever face-to-face, can fill a lonely void that had surfaced is the best feeling ever. To be able to smile every day at inuendos that you pull together can never be beaten.


I have found the people who I can concider my moirails.
And that is Awesome.