July 31st, 2025 - I love kindness, I wish I could be it

I’m starting to hate my car. No not the car, aspects about it. It’s physical body. I keep waking up in the morning or coming home in the evening and finding new damages on it. There’s a scratch on the back left, the spray paint on the door is annoying, obviously the windshield is aggravating and now the silver detailing is just… falling off?

I saw a bunch of my friends in a photo. I’m not some paragon of kindness or peace. That isn’t the base state it’s a defect. An accidental byproduct of happiness. My default settings are horrid jealousy, vehement hatred and hellacious greed. I’m not Superman, I’m Larfeleez. The greatest kindness I could do is die. You’re supposed to remove cancer not feed it. I’m a parasite to the people I love, a bulbous tumour leaching and killing those closest to me.

It’s good that I stopped existing. It looks like they’re happy. That’s all that matters.

—-

I know no peace. Even in the quietest of moments, the softest of memories, the voice speaks. There’s an itch in the back of my head only a bullet could reach.

—-

I’m trying to drive to work, I’m I’m crying

I’m weeping, I’m wailing. My windows are down the world can hear my pleas if they listened. Their windows are up, their walls would never let them.

I remember- I think I was 24, one of the lowest parts of my life. Tito Arni was living with us, I was still taking public transit. I had gotten home and I- I just broke down. I was so hollow and empty and the only thing in me to run on was grief. I looked at Tito’s car in the driveway and I didn’t want him to ask me how I was, what was wrong. It’s easy to avoid the rest of my family they all remain in their areas but Tito’s area was the living room and it’d be rude to pass by him without saying hello.

So instead I walked. I had my music playing but I know I was loud. I was self conscience about my goddamn meltdown. I think my neighbour saw me weep. I walked past the house, into an open cropping of grass beside the road. The rain was light but consistent. I was soaked already, I laid in a puddle I might as well have made with how many years I cried.

I just laid there and wept. The windows to the cars were up, they wouldn’t hear me. But they could see me. A stranger lying starfish on the side of the road. Every so often I would because myself on my elbows to watch the cars pass.

I closed my eyes, when I opened them a woman was shouting, asking me if I was okay. God my cheeks must have been blood red. What was I doing? I answered the obvious “yea I’m fine.” It was a lie. I couldn’t do that to a stranger, “I will be at least.” She asked if I was sure. If I needed anything. She restored my faith in humanity that day. As brief as it was, she helped. I hope she’s okay. I hope the world is bright for her.

I love people, kindness. I wish I could be them.

—-

That was… a day. Uhm. I really fucked up. Work shouldn’t be kicking my ass this badly. It was easy. I shouldn’t be fumbling like this. Service is 11:30, I wasn’t ready until 12. It’s not an issue but it’s certainly disappointing. I gotta do better, I can blame it on my mood all I want, just be better.

I cried at work. I was left with my thoughts and I heard the new Chase Petra single. It encapsulates perfectly my feelings. “We Were Friends.” God. I wish I could write like that. Weave my words together into the most profound patterns. Beautiful intricacies. My greatest wish.

—-

I’m home, I’ve been on the endless scroll for who knows how long. I need to fix my car.

I tried. I applied the glue to the decal piece and taped it down. I’ll let it set until tomorrow. The spray paint didn’t even budge. I have to find another solution.

—

I was finally in a good headspace. My hair, cut. My body, washed. I finished an episode of Dandadan. Peace of mind achieved. I glanced over at the grey bag that’s been sitting there since yesterday, I opened it to shuffle through its contents. I picked up the DC Connects and flipped through its pages. I looked at all the new and fun upcoming projects DCs releasing, at all the cool variants that’ll come out. If I was rich I would collect comics. Maybe- maybe I should just do it. Start picking it up as a hobby, hunting and collecting? Like- find all the stuff I like, make a list and start visiting places to find them. I wouldn’t wanna do it alone tho. It’s more fun as a team, especially with someone who has their own list. :/

I thumbed through the most recent Nightwing issue I picked up, deathwing is back. 🤷🏻‍♂️ don’t know how to feel about that. Haven’t seen the guy since pretty early Rebirth.