Live, Love, and Hate – by Orpheus

Week 15 – In which K’s name was revealed before I went back and edited it.

Let me begin by saying this: Hobbit, if you don’t like my advice, don’t listen to it. It’s not that hard of a concept. Now, on to the World of Orpheus. I need to get my hands on a copy of Wraith: The Oblivion. I mean, I’ve heard that it’s White-Wolf’s greatest game, but it’s really old and hard to find. The most common price that I’ve seen is $70 for a used copy. I did see one for $30, but the problem is that I’m still broke, no matter how cheap the book is. And I’m still waiting for my copy of Mage: The Ascension to come via mail order… Oh by the way, yesterday I learned that French fries aren’t that bad with a little sugar on them, they taste kinda like churros. I didn’t discover that on purpose, mind you, I thought that it was, like, a huge salt shaker, or something of the sort…

But you know, I really haven’t quite been feeling like myself this past week. I’ve been a lot angrier, and more easily provoked. I really don’t know why, but it’s bothering the Hell out of me. It’s nine at night, and I suddenly have a craving for a hotdog. But it is these sudden bursts of rage that I believe give me perfect justification to write this next paragraph, even though Hobbit and I have called a truce.

(please note that casual readers may skip this paragraph, it is just blind anger directed towards Hobbit for lack of a better target) You have NO FUCKING RIGHT to call me an ‘emotional nazi’. You don’t know what it’s like to be on the other side of this, so don’t even try. Next time, if you’re going to write something to counter what I say, try writing something against the actual points, rather than just slinging half-assed remarks about the comparisons used. Just consider this: I treat people exactly how they treat me, so just think what that says about you. But if you think I’m cold, spiteful, and bitter, you should see the heartless little bitch that made me this way. I’m sure that if you want to be cold, hateful, and mostly hollow on the inside, just like me, that K, a REAL emotional nazi, would be more than happy to do the same thing to you.

But you know, there’s an advantage to all this hollowness and emptiness inside. You don’t feel, really. No regret, no remorse, no pity, no sympathy… Wow, I feel like I’m reciting the chorus line to Nothing, by the Crüxshadows… Oh, rather than a hotdog, I made some popcorn and grabbed a grape soda out of the fridge. Anyway, back to the column (he says as if somebody’s actually reading this). I suppose that ‘no regrets’ isn’t quite accurate. You regret what it was that killed you off inside, but nothing else, not unless you’re in one of those moments where you regret absolutely everything you’ve ever done, and you look at that little pocket knife hanging off of your shelf and it just looks so friendly that you pull it off the shelf and make a little knick in your body, just to watch the blood spill because it’s, like, the only thing in your life that you have any amount of control over and… and… and… well, I haven’t actually cut myself for a while now. Sure as Hell felt like doing it last night, though… But in short, shut the fuck up, you have no right to talk call me shit like that.

Now, on to another one of the things that’s been bothering me. Y’see, the other night, I thought about trying to bring Eurydice back. Thing was, though, when I was flipping through my CD wallet, trying to find the right song to set up the mood that I wanted to create for the dream. Then, I had a revelation. I realized that I really didn’t want her back. Prob’ly wouldn’t mean anything to anyone else, but, that’s really kinda shocking for me.

Well, this is Orpheus, signing out, send topics to [email protected]