#greg would probably want to read him a kid appropriate story book but when he sees miles light up like that...of course lets read some law ♡

[vonlipvig]

feeling a bit soft rn, so have some bedtime stories with the edgeworths ♡ (don't worry, just procedure, none of the scary bits for now!)

[theonceoverthinker]

OUAT 2X18 - Selfless, Brave, and True

Hey, reader! And WOOD-n’t you know, August is here too!!!!

So while we’re all here together, let’s talk about this episode! Under the cut we go!

Press Release While Mary Margaret goes off on her own in an attempt to come to grips with what she did to Cora and how her deed has affected her, she stumbles upon August, who has hidden himself away from the others and is completely made of wood – ashamed at the actions he has taken in life; and Emma is shocked when Neal invites his fiancée, Tamara, to come to Storybrooke. Meanwhile, before the curse was cast, August is introduced to a man of magic who may be able to prevent him from turning back into wood – but at a steep price. General Thoughts - Characters/Stories/Themes and Their Effectiveness This is one of those episodes where the events of it are good, but can’t really be picked apart and discussed in specific segments like I usually do (Besides, the “Insights” make up for it this time! XD ). I like both of the stories and their use of character. I’m admittedly a sucker for episodes where a character makes a decision in one part and then ends up on the opposite side of the proverbial equation in the other, and this one was done pretty well! It’s a simple type of character development, but it honestly gets the job done. August is built to be just selfish enough for the episode’s purposes, but his fear of dying was an appropriate choice as to make his cowardice and selfishness never take him over the line of detestability. Additionally, while I take issue with one aspect of it, I think August’s redemption works well through his sacrifice as death was something he feared so much and was capitalized on well enough in the flashback, and his reward is well deserved. In both segments, Tamara works as a twist character and while I get tired sometimes of those overly mysterious characters who dodge most every question like a banana peel in Smash Bros, I think they did a good job in making The Dragon likable enough. If I had to complain about something, I just feel like the twist that makes August change his mind about leaving should’ve been more character based and closer to the theme of being selfless, brave, and true. As it is, it’s just seeing a photograph, and that’s not really all that revolutionary to someone who was content enough to run away earlier despite knowing what Tamara could do. It exposes nothing about his morality. What I would’ve done is have Tamara also take the string from the Dragon. It would’ve tied (GET IT?! TIED XD ) back to who August was and his father. Insights - Stream of Consciousness -Phuket? More like “fuck it.” Aren’t I right August, ya beach bum? XD -”I’m turning into wood.” Given your previous position, I guess the wood that goes around comes around! ;) -David, you sure that snowbells are the best flowers to give Snow to cheer her up? Because she literally just buried her friend with them a few days ago. Maybe you oughta go with tulips or a nice rose, perhaps? -Also, David! You look hoooooot in that shirt! Fuck the sausage and eggs! I’d be content enough with that big slab of meat you call a bicep! ;) -Ooh! I love that bit of indirect tough love advice Emma gives David on Snow’s behalf! It’s a nice callback to their friendship! And it works! AND Snow relays that advice to August later on! -”None of it will matter?” I’m with Snow, David. Shit’s not that easy. -”Please. Give me time.” There might be some in that breakfast he cooked. Just saying. -”She should be here at any minute now.” Neal, give Emma some notice! A text, at least! -”This town is turning into a theme park.” I’m about 1,000,000% sure no one who runs a Disney park is reading my cute little web reviews, but if you are, PLEASE make Storybrooke a theme park or even just a street in Disney World (And then get me free tickets as a thank you for the idea!) -I can NEVER hear Jennifer say “where I’m/you’re from” again without thinking about that fucking blooper! XD -”She’s bringing bagels.” To be honest, I’d be sold here too. New York bagels are objectively the best and I pity every one of you who has never had one. You poor souls! -Mary Margaret: Keeper of the best coping mechanism EVER since 2013 (?) -*August shows up* I’ve heard of Woodsman in this series, but this is ridiculous! -*August fucking stabs himself with a scalpel and is chased* What the fuck did you expect to happen?! -*August gets pulled into the supply closet* August was ready to throw down! And look at his hands. Is that cultural appropriation or did he actually learn how to fight in Phuket? -August is so well sanded! Either Gepetto didn’t get paid NEARLY enough or August did some grooming! -August ships SwanFire! Who knew? ...Besides everyone who paid more attention than me during the original airing of the episode, that is? XD -Tamara brought the fucking goods! Your revealed villainy aside, you’re a fucking champ! No wonder I liked you! -Awww! Henry let Neal keep the book! <3 -Btw, WHERE THE FUCK IS RUMPLE? Unghh. One thing I wish we had more of this season was more Papa Fire moments. I mean, the guy just got his son back AND avoided death. I feel like he should be knocking on Neal’s door every day to talk to him and his absence at this point is really noticeable. I know we see them together in the next episode, but it’s not enough. Yes, Neal still holds a lot of resentment, but in the last scene they were together, they had a moment of kindness and Rumple’s the type to jump on that like a toddler on a trampoline! -Tamara, I know you’re acting, but you’re giving a 10 and you need to pull that back to a 6. Hell, precisely BECAUSE you’re acting, you should pull it back just a touch! -”I have a soft spot for little kids in trouble.” Awwww! </3 -”If I were you, I’d try the fish -- blackened soul.” That was a fucking good one liner! -Damn, Tamara! Give you some ominous music and a glare and suddenly, out goes the cuddly and in goes the scary! -Dragon, don’t dodge the question! Goddd, don’t be one of those annoying types of mysterious characters!! -”Because what he was is what he is.” Blue! THIS is why everyone thinks you’re shady! -Tamara. Do not pull out the giant envelope of cash in public, and then LEAVE it out! Look, I love August, but he’s about as shady as the underside of the branches he was carved out of! -”For someone who spent his entire life running, you should be in better shape.” XD Great quip, Dragon! -”Are you two trying to steal the magic from Storybrooke?” How did you reach that conclusion? I mean, I get that Tamara’s shadier right now than weeping willow by the equator at high noon, but there’s a jump in logic here that I’m missing. Like, as far as you know, she likes magic. She cured her cancer with it! It makes sense when August finds out the truth, but it would only work when he discovers it. -Regina, who the hockey sticks do you think you’re fooling by playing dumb?! -”Mary Margaret. What are you doing? He’s apologizing.” Emma, he literally just told your mother that the thing she’s spent so much time blaming herself for (Possibly from the moment you were born) was orchestrated by him. She’s allowed to be angry. I feel like both you and I would have a harsher reaction if we were in her shoes! -”That wasn’t me.” Jesus, people! YOU ARE ALLOWED TO BE ANGRY! YOUR LACK OF ANGER IS MAKING ME ANGRY! I mean, I get that Snow knows she would’ve done the same thing, but she didn’t. Marco did, and that condemnation for it was well warranted. -I DO like how responsible Marco’s being for his actions and the effect that it had on August. That was SO needed! -OMG! THE TASER!!! XD -Damn, I wish we saw what The Dragon’s real form was. -Tamara, you’re a sneaky little asshole, but damnit you have a nice car. -The CGI for this episode must’ve eaten the budget like a kid eats a happy meal. -How the fuck did the Blue Fairy get there so quickly! Hell, maybe you ARE shady! -I actually like that we see that selfish side of Neal in the last flashback. It shows both how the world has changed him AND how the Stiltskin’ cowardice curse has left some bits in him as well. -Tamara! I’m supposed to hate you! Stop being so snuggly! -”I promise I will never lie to you again.” ...I’m sorry, Emma. I’ve gotta do it. *deep breath* Suuuuuuuuuuure, Emma. -”It had started to blacken because of what I did.” ...I guess I’m supposed to believe that she redeemed herself after the Maleficent stuff. -”But it [redemption] cost him [August] everything.” Yeahhh...no. He seriously went from what was probably a pretty miserable life to a fresh start. -I kind of wish Greg and Tamara ended up being recurring villains. We’d get the villain ship I always wanted and they could be curb stomped all the time! XD Arcs - How are These Storylines Progressing? Tamara - Tamara’s shown up! I actually love her first episode as a villain. Yeah, the taser is corny, but if that puts you over the top, then I have to ask just what show you’re watching! But onto the character herself, she’s incredibly intelligent with how she deals with people. Within ten seconds of seeing Neal, she knows how to play him like a fiddle and her time with August in the present shows the insight she’s gained about him in their one encounter. Hell, she sort of won the day, and all without using a hint of magic! Emma lying to Henry - Finally! This arc is over! I gotta say, this was a hard (Albeit well done) arc to watch. It’s never easy seeing your favorite character get antagonized, no matter how justly. That having been said, as there was no reference to the lie before Emma brought it up right before the final apology, I can’t help but wish that it was either brought up once more in this episode or done in the last episode where it had more thematic prominence. Favorite Dynamic Snow and Emma. As I pointed out in my “Insights,” Emma’s motivational speech to David and heard indirectly by Snow is the thing that bounces her back to life and that sentiment carries Snow throughout the rest of the episode. It’s such a small moment but it speaks so well of the bond that the two of them have built up over the seasons. I like the way that Emma inspires Snow, of ony for how funny it is to see her listen to “My Reputation” while shooting arrows for stress relief. And suddenly, the toaster scene makes so much sense... Writer Kalinda Vazquez and Robert Hull are here for their swan song of the season (Try saying THAT five times fast!) and they both do a pretty decent job here. The dialogue, story, and character choices fit well, and while there were some aspects I wish were handled better, they did an amicable job. Rating 8/10. Once again, I don’t find that there was a lot to say about this episode, but it was quite a good one! It was an entertaining watch with a nice new setting for the flashback, and characters that fit together to convey a great story! I found it to be pretty funny at times and it got me excited about what’s to come! And can you really ask for more out of an episode? ...Well, yeah, but it’s good enough! XD ()()()()()()()()() Thank you so much for reading and to the fine folks at @watchingfairytales. Sorry this wasn’t a super long or in-depth review, but I can only work with what I’m given. Anyway, if it’s not too much trouble before you go, I’d like to ask you for a little help! A couple of days ago, it was announced that the finale won’t be broken up for the final week of the Season 2 posts, and I want to know if you want me to do two separate reviews, or one mega-ultra-super-chocolatey-magical-sugar-spice-and-everything-nice review! It will be a LONG review, but if you think that these two episodes beLONG together, please let me know so I’ll know what to do when the time comes! You can leave a reply here or send me an ask or send me your thoughts by carrier pigeon. Really, it’s all good!

Next time...whoo. My cotton shirt is making me soooo hot! I’m going to change into something...lacey. ;)

See you all then.

Season 2 Tally (157/220) Writer Tally for Season 2: Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis: (39/60) Jane Espenson (35/50) Andrew Chambliss and Ian Goldberg (31/50) David Goodman (24/30)* Robert Hull (24/30)* Christine Boylan (17/30) Kalinda Vazquez (28/30)* Daniel Thomsen (18/20)* * Indicates that their work for the season is complete Operation Rewatch Archives

[yuhb0y]

Hard to believe this post was 3 years ago. My first suicide attempt led me to be institutionalized and it was probably the scariest thing I’ve ever had to go through. I remember waking up in the middle of the night one day and crying harder than I had ever cried, I don’t really remember what it was about this specific day but at some point throughout the thought came into my head that this was finally it.

I wrote a letter to my family and texted the girl I loved a huge apology. This was all going on during the worst drug binge I had ever been on. I took one last shower idk why but I did, I sat down on my couch and really reflected on everything I could for as long as I could but in a moments notice I realized that I didn’t really want to overthink the whole situation so I gathered about 12 or 14 norcos in my hand and just swallowed them whole. I continued to do so til there wasn’t anything left of the 2 bottles I had gotten my hands on. I remember going in for the last handful and feeling some sort of relief.

And just like that I leaned back and could feel my head get lighter and lighter and I as I got higher all I could remember is crying. Even in the moments I had hoped to be my last I felt inadequate. There was no peace, there was no instance where this all made sense to me, I found nothing. This was everything I had allowed to eat away at me taking all control and I just sat there crying because it was the worst realization I had ever made.

Eventually I blacked out and I guess my mother found me with puke coming out my mouth. I was still a bit coherent but everything was so fucking hazy. I don’t really know how my mom did it but she got me into her car and drove me to the hospital where she worked at (and ironically the one I was born at.) It was about 5am and I remember seeing rain fall down on a world that wasn’t quite awake yet out the car window as I came in and out of this horrible state I was in, my mom kept shaking me to stay awake.

When I got to the hospital I was in a drug induced frenzy, I tried to fight staff and police cuz they wanted to strip me (staff even stole my phone charger but I don’t blame them) Eventually I was put into an er room. Too much time had gone by and they said they couldn’t pump my stomach, so I had to wait out the worst high of my life. I spent about 9 hours vomiting, crying with my parents, and slipping in and out of consciousness cuz I was not allowed to fall asleep under any circumstances in case I didn’t wake back up.  This was it, this was my defeat, nothing after this would be the same whether I lived or died, everything would change.  

All I really remember was thinking about my siblings and my late grandmother. My siblings and my parents are everything to me and all I felt was shame. More shame than I’ve ever felt in my life. I had to start training for a new job that week and all I remember thinking is “What do I tell them?” “Does the rest of my family know?” “How do I explain this to anyone?” I was at the lowest I had ever been in my life and I thought no one could understand.  

The whole 9 hours I was in the er I wasn’t allowed water for fear of choking to death. I vomited the entire time and cried more than I had ever in my 19 years of living, I confessed my feelings to my parents and everything I had felt up to that point, I told them I had been depressed since I was a child and how I was hiding this drug problem from them, and they both just kept telling me they loved me and that everything was gonna be ok.  

I really didn’t have a choice when it came to being put in the psych ward, my parents really pushed it and I didn’t really know what to do in this situation. I signed a dotted line and hugged my mom and dad like it was the last time I was gonna see them. I was stripped searched one last time and taken to a room with the clothes I arrived in.  

I remember sleeping most of the time when I first got there. My roommate was a rich kid like two years older than me with a history of drug abuse and destruction of property. His name was Michael and he was there as part of court-sentenced rehabilitation, he had taken abunch of xanax and crashed his rich dads car into a building. He was kinda scary and read the bible all the time in order to “get right with god.” He even stole one of my tshirts by proclaiming to me one morning “This is mine now Eli.” We had planned to stay in contact when I got out but that never happened. Most nights we’d talk til one of us passed out, when you’re put into a setting like that it really changes alot of things, I feel like he knew me better than most people know me now. I hope he’s doing ok where ever he is, I hope he’s better cuz he atleast deserves that.  

I actually made friends in there and they helped me out more than any of the therapy or group activities. Our lunch table consisted of me, this man Mark that was an alcoholic and decorated college professor with 4 kids, grandkids and a girlfriend, he attempted to hang himself from his bedroom window and ended up falling 3 stories and breaking his arm, this was his 6th stay in a mental institution. There was Greg, a theater actor that was down on his luck, he never told me how he tried to do it but that didn’t matter, he had struggled with depression since he was a teenager and by the end of his stay he was really stoked on getting this part in a play. There was another Michael he was also my age, he was in there cuz he almost drank himself to death and received alcohol poisoning, he had been away at college when it happened and his family thought it’d be good for him to check himself in before going to rehab, we talked about death metal and videogames all the time and he was the only one that ever wanted to take walks with me. Finally there was Dave, he was a terminal cancer patient with a degree in architecture, he had two kids and a wife, he slashed his arms with a kitchen knife, he was usually on bed rest but he was the only one that was ever up as early as I was and we were always the first ones up for breakfast, I think I helped him more than he helped me. These men helped me out so much, especially Mark, I couldn’t believe such a smart and experienced person could feel the way I did, he was the first person that really taught me about coping with depression and he just taught me so much about regular life stuff and I’m forever grateful for that, I had tried to contact him when I was out but could never get a hold of him. I hope he didn’t die, that’s my biggest fear. I hope no one died, I hope they’re all still here. It’s horrible to think like that but it’s hard not to.  

While I was in there I got regular visits from friends and the girl I was in love with, she even made out with me once in there and some staff saw and scolded me but I just thought it was funny. Seeing her was the one thing I looked forward to the most cuz she came everyday and I would literally count down the minutes and hours til she arrived and I couldn’t help but get super stoked everytime, I was really in love. Visits helped me alot since I had no means of contact with the outside world. I remember writing letters to my mom and dad and said girl. I would draw alot and write alot and I even read some books which I never do. One thing I couldn’t do was listen to music and that was probably the most annoying thing ever. I watched movies everyday too with my roommate and we even started a “movie time” in the wreck room, I remember watching A Bronx Tale one day and 2 ladies were really offended cuz they swore alot, we didn’t care though.  

I was in there for about 8 or 9 days until I was discharged on short notice. My aunt Maggie had lost her fight with diabetes and had passed away while I was in there. She was the only one that ever came to my shows and she was my mom’s best friend, she was a wonderful person and I loved her alot, it just made my situation worse losing her. The hospital let me out early so I could attend her funeral. I was diagnosed with dysthymia and prescribed anti-depressants and handed a 2,000 dollar medical bill and sent on my way.  

It was all surreal, the day i got out my mom picked me up and we headed home to pack since we were headed to Wisconsin to bury my aunt on her tribes’ reservation, I brought my girl too. We were off to Wisconsin, here I was not even 12 hours out and on my way to send off my beloved aunt, I didn’t know how to feel, everyting was happening so fast. The funeral actually wasn’t sad, of course my family and i cried but it was a very beautiful native american ceremony. There was dancing and a huge bonfire and a feast and we told stories about Maggie, it lasted 2 days, there was a ton of my family and none of them knew what I had just been through so i had to just pretend like I was ok, but either way it wouldn’t really be appropriate to talk about that shit there. The only person that knew was my uncle who’s wife we were burying, I remember him hugging me and telling me he loved me and I just held him and told him I loved him too, I felt like a jackass cuz he already had enough going on. We burried my aunt next to her mother one morning and I put a rose on her casket. Death is a very real thing and I had been face to face with it and this whole experience was insane.  

We stayed the whole weekend on this beautiful reservation and I remember just being with my girl and feeling lucky to be alive. It was like some straight up movie shit, I remember one night I was just hanging out with her in front of this lake and just kissing her and it was dark and we were in the middle of all this scenery and the whole time the weather was gloomy since it was fall and it was cold but I didn’t care I just kissed her and told her I loved her, it was intense.  

When I was back home I got back into the groove of things and began to live life again cuz I didn’t really wanna think about all I had been through for a bit. I remember talking to friends and family members about it, some conversations were more sincere than others. When you almost die everyone loves you.  

Depression is a very serious thing. It doesn’t take a break, it can take over anyone, your mother, your girlfriend, your boss, your teacher, no one is really in the clear. Depression is a monster that eats away at alot of us and some of us don’t make it out in one piece. If you ever feel like you’re going through something, please don’t do it alone, even if you feel like you are, you’re not. It took a drug overdose for me to realize that and it shouldn’t have been that way. Feeling like shit about yourself is completely normal, we’re literally the most complex organisms on this planet with even more complex feelings and ideas, it’s perfectly alright to feel down sometimes, it’s completely natural. I’m just saying you should never feel like you need to hide the way you’re feeling and you should never be scared of reaching out to someone, we all have people that care about us and if they’re all real, they’ll definitely understand. Don’t wait until it’s too late like I did. Don’t wake up one morning after bottling everything up and make a decision you can’t take back. Don’t break your mother’s heart. Don’t let this take you. You are more than this and you deserve more, you owe it to yourself. Love yourself and let the love of others guide you down this dark path, it’s the only way.  

Three years have gone by. Three years. I still struggle everyday with these thoughts in my head and some days are harder than others. Sometimes I feel like giving up and making everything go away. Three years have gone by and I don’t do drugs anymore, I’ve had my moments of weakness but I never went back to that shit. Three years have gone by and the friends I had back then are still here, and I love them with all my heart. Three years have gone by and some friends have parted ways with me but I love them too. Three years have gone by and the girl I wrote those letters to burned them all. Three years have gone by and I attempted suicide again. Three years have gone by, I’ve made some progress and had some setbacks. Three years have gone by and I’ve fucked up alot of things in my life. Three years have gone by and I’ve hurt some people and have been hurt myself. Three years have gone by and I’ve done some cool shit. Three years have gone by and music has always been there for me. Three years have gone by and my relationship with my parents is better. Three years have gone by and alot has changed. Three years have gone by and I’m happy I’m still here.  Three years have gone by and I hope if you’re reading this and you struggle with something similar I want you to know that it’s not gonna get better right away, this horrible feeling will probably never leave you but goddamnit you are strong and you are amazing and life is amazing and there’s so much of it you gotta see. And when it’s all said and done you will be more than this.  

Always remember that I’ll always love you and I’ll always be here for you even in the darkest times. Maybe you’ll feel different when the sun rises.

[writetoremainsilent]

12/29/18 the accompanying story

This is the followup to my other 12/29 post. 

I wrote this, out of nowhere, just to try and get into Michael’s writing voice. It didn’t go so well. It also might have formatting issues because I’m copy-pasting it from a Google Doc. A tl;dr at the top, so AVOID this till after because spoilers (like you care): 

I came up with the bedtime story Michael tells his daughter first, and built the rest of the story around that. Hence, the rest of the story sucks immensely. I’m particularly displeased with latter half; I think it’s quite weak. But, whatever. Maybe I’ll work on this tomorrow and upload it again. Who knows. Anyway, enjoy!!

STORY!!!!

“Are you going to tell me a story?” the little girl asked.

The tired man sighed. It was 10:30 in the night, and he had just gotten back from his commute home. He was tired. The little girl was not.

The mother, formerly known as the love of his life, was fast asleep. Her shift had ended. His was just beginning.

He looked into the little girl’s shining, expectant eyes. They were dark and looked just like his not beautiful, but the happiness inside them was. Suddenly, he felt how much power he had over her. He could snuff out her joy with just a single word, and she couldn’t do anything about it.

Of course, he didn’t. He sighed again and sat down next to her on the bed. The little girl handed him a book, one of those stupid three page cardboard cutouts with the animals that have the sense to speak to one another, but not the sense to figure out their pitifully simple dilemmas.

When he took it from her, it was almost as though he could hear the snickering of the money-grubbing rats that wrote these sorts of things. The tired man opened the book and shaped his mouth to form the first sentence.

(Piggy was hungry)

He couldn’t do it. It was just...so stupid. So instead he shut the book and turned to the little girl. He rubbed his hand over his face and said, most solemnly, “How about I tell you a story that my father told me when I was around your age?”

His father had done no such thing. But, kids are kids, and the little girl was no exception. She looked as though she were being let in on some ancient ancestral tale. Her eyes shone even more, and he felt like he was going to be swallowed up by their gleeful blackness.

“Can you, please?” the little girl asked. At least she had manners.

He licked his lips and nodded, and began to improvise:

“There were two brothers attending a high school. Both brilliant, both set on successful paths.

One of the brothers was very outgoing, the other was a bit of an introvert. Er, sorry. A shy fellow. Yeah.

Unfortunately, the outgoing brother, whom we’ll name Greg, kind of fell in with the wrong crowd.  Bad influences, my dad would’ve called them. Or wait, he did call them that. Anyway, these guys were real trouble-makers. They’d drink and drive (which is illegal, at any age), they’d smoke cigarettes (which is illegal, at that age), and they’d make an overall ruckus on the school campus (which isn’t exactly illegal, but it is pretty annoying). Greg relieved some of his academic stress by drinking with these children, which is illegal at that age. He hid it from his parents pretty well, but not from...

...the introvert brother, whom we’ll name...uhhhh...Michael. Yes, I know that’s my name. Just listen. Michael was a stellar child. He didn’t do anything or say anything that his parents didn’t approve of. In fact, he was more of a goody two-shoes than they were.

Obviously, he and Greg didn’t see eye-to-eye with their pastimes. Greg partied, and Michael read. But Michael, being a kind and gracious brother, never said a thing to his parents. Which, if you ask me, is pretty bad, considering that his brother would drink and drive, which is illegal. Shoot, I’m digres–getting off topic.  

Anyway, uh, yeah, these two brothers had different outlets for having fun, and spent countless nights apart from each other, indulging in these outlets. One such fateful night, the brothers’ parents were out on a ‘date night,’ which is when two parents trick themselves into thinking they can have a fun and romantic time together. Greg had driven to his friend’s house, and had drank a lot. That’s illegal at that age. And Greg, having never discussed these things with his parents, found it appropriate to drive back home after having drank, which is illegal. And so he told his friends ‘see you later’ and climbed into his car.

Beautiful car, by the way. His parents bought it for him as a birthday–sorry, sorry. I forgot you don’t like fun things. Anyway, he climbed into the car.

Now, can you tell me what happens when you’re drunk? No? That’s probably a good thing. Well, your brain doesn’t work properly. You get very, very dizzy, like those times I’ve seen you spin around in the living room and then fall down. Greg was very much feeling this dizziness on the drive home. He swerved in the lane, and had forgotten to turn on his headlights, meaning he couldn’t see very well. Thankfully, the roads were empty, but he was an accident waiting to happen.

He swerved, and swerved, and kept going back and forth. Eventually he came upon a red light, but didn’t realize he had to stop. He kept accelerating, and–

–And two armed robbers entered the house where Michael was reading all alone. They began cramming items into a large sack, and Michael heard them. He crept downstairs, quiet as can be. Well, that’s what he thought. They heard him, and one of the robber didn’t think. He just drew his gun and shot and shot until Michael was more lead than flesh. See, bullets are made of lead. We’re made of flesh.

Michael died, alone and in agony. The robbers cleaned the house and left him bleeding and dirty.

And Greg? He got home, safe and sound.”

The little girl was shaking. The tired man sighed and yawned, even more spent after telling this stupid, made-up story. They sat side by side in silence.

“What happened after that?” the little girl peeped out after a while.

“Eh? Nothing really,” replied the tired man. He really was exhausted. He wanted nothing more than for the little thing to just shut up and sleep.

“I can’t tell what the moral is,” whispered the little girl.

He gnashed his teeth. Moral. What a weighty word for a six-year-old to use.

“The moral is that people never get what they deserve,” he said. “Good night.”

“She was crying to me earlier this morning. Bawling about how she was gonna be found dead after some robbers break into our house. What the fuck were you thinking?”

The tired man, exhausted by sleep, sighed. The mother was grilling him for his less-than-child-friendly bedtime story, which he personally had thought was riveting.

Apparently, not so much.

The mother continued to deliver gut-punches, spouting things like “been distant ever since she was born” and his being a “reluctant father.” The tired man didn’t have the energy to retort. He didn’t have the energy to feel anything.

He waved, saying “I’ll see you when I’m back,” and headed out the door.  He’d forgotten it was his turn to drop off the little girl.

The mother stood there, mouth agape, in her suit and briefcase. She recovered in an instant, and got the little girl ready for school.

The time bomb detonated.

He found himself in some apartment closer to the city; a dilapidated neighborhood where rent was minimal and care for tenants even more so. The little girl didn’t ask to go with him, and he didn’t ask her to come with him.

He closed his eyes in the empty living room and sat down. He replayed the final moments over and over again. The moments were mostly a bunch of signatures, so they weren’t exactly scintillating replays.

At night, he plopped the futon left over from his college days

(back when they were in love)

in the living room and lay there, shivering. He was going to be tired in the morning.

The tired man drew the blanket over his aching body and slept like a baby.

He woke up feeling the same as when he fell asleep.

He reached for his wife and found that there was none. It was damn cold in this new place.

The tired man sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He checked the clock. A quarter past when he’d be taking his lunch break. He sighed (as is characteristic of tired men) and got up. His joints cracked and creaked and groaned, and he did with them.

He began his morning routine, splashing cold water on his face and finding it warmer than his futon. He brushed, shaved haphazardly, and dressed for work.

White collared shirt, black tie, slacks, sneakers.

He looked at himself in the mirror and decided to skip work for the day.

The tired man sat down on a bench by the river, and cradled his head in his hands. It was all crashing down on him.

She had looked so beautiful in those goggles and that goofy white coat. She was positively radiant when the TA, who was almost definitely high, assigned him to be her lab partner.

He was so much happier then. And funnier too. She laughed at almost all of his jokes, and he would laugh with her.

They took it slow, and then fast. His parents didn’t approve of getting married while in college. In fact, they thought it was idiotic.

So he did what any child excels at doing: he ignored them.

Time flew by, and she wanted kids. He wanted her, so he wanted kids too.

And then the little girl was born.

He should’ve felt proud, holding the tiny thing in her arms, seeing her little eyes flutter and hearing her diminutive heart make the lub-dub that his did. He should’ve felt proud, when she opened her eyes and her mouth and wailed, and he could see that she looked so very much like he did.

But he didn’t.

The love of his life started paying more attention to the little girl. He became lowest priority.  It stung him. The little girl became a problem to him. Fortunately, he was quite good at ignoring her. Unfortunately, the mother was not.

So they raised her together: him begrudgingly, and the mother most joyously.

The man became tired of this. He wanted love and affection.

The man grew tired: work became more demanding.

The man grew tired: he could not bring himself to love the child.

The man grew tired: he and the mother ended their physical relationship. It was never expressly said, but one day he came home from work and went straight to sleep, and that was it for them.

The man was tired: he suspected his brain was simply wired that way.

All he wanted was for the mother to love him above all else, like he thought he did her.

And instead of that, he got a eleventh-rate lawyer and a piss-poor settlement.

He yawned. His cheeks were wet. His throat was sore. He was so very tired.

Time passed. The tired man survived from day-to-day. He kept to himself. He kept himself busy.

On an unrelated note, everyone at the local dives knew him. The tall, bumbling recluse who slurred before his drink and was unintelligible after it. They didn’t know where he worked, or what he did. Neither did he.

The day was the little girl’s twelfth year. The tired man had been seeing a therapist, and decided to discuss the little girl this session, a topic he rarely broached.

“I didn’t love her,” he mumbled, slumped in his chair.

His therapist, a rather long-necked fellow by the name of J. Daniel, said nothing. He really was a fantastic listener.

“I don’t love her. I won’t love her,” continued the tired man.

The therapist stayed silent.

“I mean, she ruined my marriage!”

The therapist stayed silent.

The tired man closed his eyes, imagined his daughter, and felt his heart seize up.

The session was a failure. He left the office with a lighter wallet and a much heavier conscience.

He stumbled into his car and turned the engine over.

(Which is illegal, at any age)

The tired man squinted. It was late, and the road was hard to see. The lights all blended together, making a wonderful rainbow of light pollution.

He really couldn’t see all that well. His head was throbbing, and he felt dizzy. He swerved when he thought he was about to hit something, some weird dark blob that might have been scuttling across the street. Thankfully, the road was pretty empty.

The tired man, however, lost control after swerving. He careened awkwardly, and his stomach lurched and bucked and swerved with the car. His knuckles were white as he clutched the wheel, unsure of what to do and unsure of how to do it. He distantly realized the car was tipping, and then he was somersaulting over and over, the windows shattering, his head whiplashing, his arms flailing. He screamed when he saw the corner of the building rush up to meet him, and–

–and his daughter woke up in the middle of the night to one of the worst headaches she’d ever experienced. She didn’t know it, but she was undergoing a ruptured aneurysm. Her brain was hemorrhaging, bleeding uncontrollably, and she would be dead by the morning.

She didn’t deserve it.