Prologue Page 2

It feels almost like a movie, but the sights and sounds are as real as the pain I am feeling right now. This pressure around my heart that makes it want to crush itself.

The window frames the picture of the city of my birth and begins to age with the clouds of my depression until the screen looks like an old fashioned television show.

And then I see her. I don’t know why my eyes are drawn to her, but I notice a woman walking quickly down the street holding the hands of two young children behind her. She looks so familiar, like the glimpse of a memory I can’t remember, and I know that I know her and yet I don’t. The older of the two kids, a young girl, looks around obviously confused by the early morning adventure into the city. She is too far away for me to make out her face and I feel suddenly frustrated by my lack of view, I feel like I must see her. Behind her struggling to keep up with the group is her younger brother.

The mother has a face of determination as she marches by purposefully with a need to see the deed done, whatever deed that may be. Again I have this haunting suspicion that I know this woman as she passes further from my view. I keep watching as the young boy turns his head quickly and shoots a furtive glance in my direction. Our eyes meet and I look at myself in the mirror until he turns away to find his mother suddenly stopped in front of a building.

I can tell they stand in front of a sleeping police station that hasn’t started protecting people yet for the day. The mother seems to gather herself for a second before gathering her family around her. She gently pulls the two children closer in and hugs them while saying words I obviously cannot hear, but somehow I know them in my heart. I can tell she is trying to make the moment last a lifetime that can’t last forever as she abruptly pushes the children away with some last words given forcefully towards the eldest daughter, before quickly walking away. She doesn’t look back, I wait for her to turn back. The children instantly look scared and confused as all they know walks away. I can almost hear their cries and the sorrow of the moment brings me back to my moment and the sorrow that waits for me.

Jason C. Cushman

-Opinionated Man

44.1

@smokendust

Prologue

It feels like I have been in this room before. It feels like I am stuck in this room in my dreams. A room full of sadness where crying children are brought to cry some more. Shelves line the walls full of their memories, their recorded logs of displacement and attempted replacement of what has been lost for them. The room is furnished with a large desk of authority against the far wall, with a couple wooden chairs that were never built for comfort facing it.

I hate this room. My eyes wander in sadness and search for an escape from what I have just heard.

The last time I was here I was crying my heart out as I struggled to know what was going on. I know this to be true even if I don’t have the memory still. Something inside me tells me there are cries still leftover inside from that experience, from that day. Those screams seek now to join the rest of the surrounding depression this room has known, a feeling I can feel like painted sadness on a wall. It is an overwhelming pressure that squeezes my heavy heart and makes me want to erupt from my chair and run, never looking back. I knew I shouldn’t have come here.

I see a window and look out onto a busy Pusan street, a street I can’t remember walking as a child. Cars whisk by and a Korea from my dreams becomes a moving reality before my eyes…

Page 1

Blogger Review #6 – Rich

I’d like to introduce you all to Rich who blogs at Level Up Stud! The gamer in me is delighted every time I say that blog name…

I am a sucker for a great about page. Rich gives us the run down from High School to his everyday, current life in his About Page here! He even has his own Advice Column!

How cool is that?

I am now tempted to write my own advice column… but I can’t think of a single person that would be dumb enough to solicit advice from me…

Rich is the first blogger to click the link to my review page and sign up! He won the prize of being reviewed next!

See… it pays to click on links sometimes…

Looking for a new blogger to add to your reader? Want to find a new connection? Visit Rich at his blog http://levelupstud.com today!

-Opinionated Man

@smokendust

Interested in being reviewed? Check out the sign up page!

https://aopinionatedman.com/blogger-review-sign-up/

Hoping to Die

There was a time in my life when the land was covered in darkness. It did not matter what time of the day it was there was simply no light. I walked the world a ghost and prayed to any god that would listen that he or she would simply end it for me. I wanted to die. I wrote the below poem in remembrance of that time of weakness.

And there they lay. The tools of the day. A razor, a pile of pills, and a bottle of Tanqueray.

I have stared in the mirror for hours. All have gone to bed. With each tear has come resolve. We may as well end it all. I hate you. With a hand I gulp the pills, the bottle is already near. I gulp death’s companion. And to the left are the backup dancers.

A letter to someone… I hope… anyone?

Never there is a reply. I say this aloud now as the razor cuts once, twice, thrice… and as the ice cold water washes away my sight. I feel life fleeing from my nearing empty vessel. And suddenly a wrongness, a surrender of an opportunity? I do not know.

And as the light flees the coming darkness, all I can do is embrace the growing warmth.

People fail to realize that there is depression and there is suicidal. To me suicidal is the point you reach when you just don’t care. You could give a shit less about heaven or hell, they are one and the same because your life has become a living hell. It doesn’t matter how many “do gooders” speak soft words in your direction, you only see darkness.

I remember well that time still to this day. The feeling of that night, sitting online and telling a few “close online friends” that I just didn’t care. That it was time to see what the next page brought. I remember a feeling of finality when I shut down my mother’s computer. My steps were almost light as I walked slowly upstairs. Neither asleep, nor really awake… I walked like a man in a daze to my bathroom. I starred at myself in the mirror for what seems like hours and in those precious minutes I decided I was ready to die. I made that choice. I took those pills and I drank that bottle to the head and I remember smiling. Because finally I didn’t feel so cold anymore. The warmth of death was my friend that night and I was ready to receive him.

It changes you… that type of experience. It is nothing to brag about and many might feel ashamed of that type of weakness. To feel ashamed of being human is a shame in itself. I was human that night, but I am lucky my humanity failed to die.

-Opinionated Man

Jason C. Cushman

@smokendust

44.1

Notes

She left on a bad note. Actually a few notes after that.

And between us sat a side note, or was it a note that was sad.

I missed her on a high note. And many notes after that.

She leaves me without a note. Just the impression where one sat.

-Opinionated Man

44.1

@smokendust