They call me Loyalty

I like them, kinda. But I like these ones better. Also, in the topic of oreos . Nothing compares to the oreo mcflurry. It's really good. But it is not an oreo thing. Basically, it is cookies and cream. That is the real magic. I've had this same ice cream from different places. And it was even better sometimes. It is really good.

Not paying attention to them. But sometimes I've had people trying to be a piece a sh*t with me. And I said "thank you" to them. But it was from the heart. Without hostility whatsoever. And they just felt like a piece of sh*t with themselves. It is like a mirror thing. But I am in my own world most of the time. So, I just don't pay attention to anyone, really. I was blessed with oblivion. Both the elder scrolls game, and the power.

That's really cool. I did play KotoR a long time ago, and I can only remember that I liked the game quite a bit. The sequel is more present in my memory, though. Despite its somewhat incomplete release. The game explores the more or less simplistic themes regarding the force in star wars. It is not as childish as good or evil. It is more complex. More unfair. More crude. In a way. But also more realistic. Which is good. Because that is part of what kept me away from star wars. That it wasn't "real" enough. It is like the comparison between the mandalorian and andor. One is a western soap opera; a very good one. While the other is a far more grounded series with more diffficult topics that pertain to real life. Things feel a little heavier. A little more difficult to discern. More complicated. That is what I liked about KotoR II. Because due to my incapacity to deal with problems in real life. I am someone who is constantly looking for the sh*t in everything. Which results in my mind picking up something up and tearing it apart to see what is inside. Deconstruction. And that is what Kotor II does with the force, to some degree. But still. Really cool. I do remember the first game vaguely, but it is still there.

Very nice. Love your art.

I've been doing alright. I had the chance to talk things out with my family. And I am now working on some of my writings, to bring it full circle with a collection of stories I've been planning for quite some time already. I am enomared with it. The current one is about the narration of a father who failed his own son. And there are some glints in there from my personal experience with a similar situation, and it is heavy stuff. But that is what art is all about for me. To explore those uncomfortable topics that have no real answer in life, with a veneer of fiction. While still conveying a message that is relatable to the human condition. Everyone is guilty of something, everyone had a reason to do what they did. Sometimes people were left behind, but that is life. And that is the kind of story I am working on right now.

Hey. My mother used to enjoy this kind of fiction, until I let her know about the real thing. And she became scared. You know when you can see the frightened animal inside of people? Like that. And she won't have to be, though. But she has to become my saint to appease the "devil" that she helped create, and pay for the permanent damage that she did to the child with her wrongful relationship. Because the moment she fails me, I rip her apart. It is a long family debt, essentially. And I have to do nothing, because they are still human. It is like with my grandfather. The old man kept repeating himself that he regreted nothing, yet his own family abandoned him to die when he needed them the most. Ouch! So, he was proven wrong, again. Because I have more reason than most. I have so much reason, in fact. That I only have to sit here and watch them burn on their own. Because you know it is true, that I everything I do, I do it for you. Even when I can do nothing thanks to them and their "humanity". Besides, all I need for entertainment, is to watch my mother be faithful to the impotent man in me, and tend to the broken child for her life. Because she made the wine, and now she has to drink it. It is not so bad when you compare it with the lives of other family members. Also, I feel bad for her. So stupid... But I had to keep her close since childhood, regardless. I cannot go around breaking my crutches. Now, this is the real true crime. But let's keep it a secret. Just between you and me, buddy. Okay? Also, let's be completely honest here for sec. The condition I live with causes me impotence and pain, as it would to anyone with this problem. And it also causes me to inflict this pain onto others. The same way we hurt each other, when we are hurting. But I do not enjoy watching real violence, nor being part of it. I never did. Which is the reason I isolate myself. I am here because of what my family owes me. The chance they took from me. That is the reason I have dreams where I am asking my mother for forgiveness when she is old and withered. Because even if I don't want to do it. I have to do it. Because the damage is already done. And it won't be a violent crime of passion. I think you are better suited for violence than me with this lessened body. But it will be a slow and a consuming death for life. You know how children take from you when they cannot stand on their own? And well beyond that point, even. Now imagine an adult that is constantly falling because he was born with inbreeding depression, and his body and mental health is now weaker and more unstable because of the actions of his family. Still, I'm gonna be alright. I have my means to dissociate from the pain. And I also have the support of my family. So, all in all. It should be okay.

Yes. I do enjoy dark places. They are like a refuge for me. To protect me from the real danger. The light. It is also the reason I do not add light to my life. Because in that hope, there is also the source for every living shadow. In simpler words. I live with emptiness and acquaint myself to the pain that quenches the fire of passion, for this is the flame that consumed my family. Betrayal, adultery, and other crimes that source from that dangerous spark inside of us. That ambition - that instinct. It goes to show that you don't need to be a pathological individual like myself, in order to kill someone else. There are so many ways to hurt people. To break the heart, to tarnish a promise, to fail someone who is terminal. You don't know the kind of stress that this can put into a person. Enough to cause the terminal disease itself. But ever since childhood, I used to go to the living room at night, and sit there in the darkness. With the paintings of deceased family members to keep me company. I felt secure. And I was safe. Much more so than with actual family members. A cold heart, still intact. It makes me wonder whether that is the reason the child is still alive within me. Frozen in time. Merely some philosophical musing as background to the actual developmental problems that affect this family. But it still adds up, psychologically speaking. Because you are now constantly contemplating what happened with a perspective of inevitability. That is the reason the dream is so important to me. A different kind of hope. One that cannot be reached or damaged. Maybe that is the point. Since everything my family touched burned down. Yet, with us here now. There is this sense of stillness. Nothing has changed so far in more than ten years. Also, the absence of light stimulates the production of melatonin to sleep.

What's your favourite video game?

Not really. I stopped doing that when I was five. Also, we gave them away to a poor family. That was something troubling to see, actually. There was a little girl on this cart where the father was collecting cardboards, bottles and other things that are usually found on the side of the road. I guess life finds its way no matter how dire are the circumstances. It goes to show the strength of some people to overcome adversity.

No. To be honest. I was never too attached to my own body due to complexes. So, I never cared about piercings, tattoos, clothing or even my hairstyle. If you looked at me now, you would see an eerie looking man that you could mistake for a disturbingly thin adolescent, who looks like a combination between a homeless person and a hippy. And my mother is the same. The only reason she got her ears pierced, is because her own mother forced her to do so. "Because that is what a lady is supposed to do". But she never liked the idea. She is actually closer to a child than an average woman in mindset.

Good. I was able to speak with my mother some more. To touch upon our problems. And she seemed agreeable at first, but now her migraines are back, and she is throwing up again. She rejects herself, the same way it happens with me. Which is the reason I become so self-destructive during my episodes. It is not an illness of the mind. But the mind can be affected by the body, sometimes. And it doesn't seem like it would affect someone this much, but it does. So, we live our days in seclusion. It is a relationship driven by commiseration, for the most part. As well as some spite and bitterness, I believe. In part because our family criticized her so much after she became pregnant with me. As if this "wasn't something she was supposed to do". Actually, her own mother used to say that she wasn't her daughter. So, it makes me wonder whether my mother was actually adopted, and she never realized it. Because the genetic disorder had to come from somewhere, and her parents were rather healthy. But that was the reason she was there when her mother was terminal, to say to her that she deserved to die from cancer. It was brutal, but perhaps deserved? I don't know. Still, we have managed, in a very dysfunctional manner that involves regression. Since whenever I try to bring her to reality, she becomes irrational. It is not different with me. And it is not different with the behaviour I have seen among some of the homeless. So, in a way. We are homeless with a home. So, I am thankful to my family because of what they left to us. Because otherwise we would be on the streets. She was never functional, and neither am I. But I needed to put this in context. Because there is a reason I talk with her about spirituality and faith, but sometimes it gets difficult to tell apart which is which and it can go too far. Regardless, this is falling apart sooner or later. That is something I could see since childhood. And it is okay with me. I wanted to be a father and all the normal things a guy wants, but I am simply too weak. The same way she was too sickly to be a responsible mother. Nothing to feel too bad about it. Since there is also great selfishness behind this intent of mine. A desire to watch this family burn to the ground. I am not different from her in that regard. I was never too different. Since I am her son, after all. And the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree.

Well, yesterday I was upstairs and heard a scratching sound coming from the drain in my bathroom. So, I remove the grate and see a little rat pock its head through the discharge inside the drain, and drop a ring. A ring that seems it would only fit a child. So, yeah. Nothing strange about it. Just a common everyday occurance. And now the house cat is staring at the drain with this machinal look in his eyes. Even after I moved a tile over it, to disuade the rodent from coming back. Since there is a killing machine in the house. So, now I am feeding my cat blue cheese. So, he can find a commonality and be at peace with the rat. He is been licking himself with this pleased look in his eyes, and doesn't seem to care anymore. It is all about working out that animal inside of us, that part that torments me everyday. That feeling inside our guts that pulls us down into the darkest recesses of the human mind. Or the cat mind, in this case. But yeah. All good. All is good.

Well, this is a little too long. But I was recently playing darkest dungeon and lost my entire save due to the most fearsome boss in the game. The infinite loading screen. So, this must have triggered a dream about darkest dungeon. And it wasn't about the first game, nor the current sequel. But it was another darkest dungeon II. And it was awesome, actually. Similar artstyle and gameplay, but bigger and better. So, I was playing in the ruins during a combat encounter, and there were two characters I could not recognize in my party. It was the turn for the character in the second position. The duelist. A slender octopus creature with a noble attire and a gentlemanly posture. Then, I open the menu to see what the hell this character does, and there is a full blown inventory with helmet, armor, and two pairs of slots for each one of his arms/tentacles, at least the ones he was not using to stand on its tentacle feet. I also see this barbarian hammer in the party inventory, which makes me believe there is a barbarian class now, possibly replacing the hellion, or in addition to it. And I try to equip him with it, but I notice that most of his skills become greyed out. And then I see that each weapon he has equiped unlocked some of his different abilities. He has a rapier, a writting feather, a flintlock and a rare knife callled the fork. I look at the fork and it has the ability to hit multiple times during the same turn, with a stacking bleed chance. The rapier unlocks his duelist thrust that has low damage but higher critical chance the further back he is, and moves him forward, and the feather enhances his ink cloud attack that greatly reduces the enemy party accuracy, but it also reduces his damage. So, a "what is mightier" sort of deal. Then I hover over the skill unlocked by the flintlock to target the fishman shaman at the back, which is a simple shot, and the enemies that can be affected by it are immediatly highlighted, including a spider chandelier over their formation. Apparently in this "sequel" there are environmental objects. So, I shoot at the chandelier on the ceiling and it falls over the two enemies in the middle rows, stunning them and doing a reasonable amount of damage. Next goes an enemy sailor with a broken bottle but he misses the jester in the third position. Next goes the second character I cannot recognize in my party. It is the brawler class. I open the inventory, to see his setup. One of his skills is a shove move that shuffles an enemy and stuns the other. There is another greyed out skill that allows him to grapple an enemy depending on how much life they have, disabling both him and the target from doing any action. But what really defined this character is that he could combo, so I can see that the area of attack for some of his skills had a glowing dot in it. And provided you chained his different skills in the correct order each turn, this would allow him to perform different finishers. So, even if some of his abilities seemed kinda mediocre at first, the finishers that they unlocked were really, really powerful. It was really cool, actually. And it required to think ahead. So, I shoved the enemy in third position to the back, bringing the pelagic shaman to the third position while also stunning the creature. Effectively cancelling his turn. Next is the jester. And this is a fully decked party during late game, it seems like. So, I look at his inventory. And see a fancy letter opener, an item called the mask of tragedy in the helmet slot, which greatly increases the stress he receives but also his chance to become virtuous. And then a musical intrument called the devil's violin in his other weapon slot, that unlocks a unique skill called strain of chaos. Which makes enemies above a certain stress level have the chance to target and attack each other, but he cannot play any of his other tunes to either reduce stress or buff your party with this item equipped. This is the moment I realize that there are ancestral items that come with their unique skills, and that enemies now have stress too. It was overwhelming. So, I hover over the fourth character in my party. The occultist. His setup were mostly new skills that dealt stress damage and become more potent the lower the light level, and wyrd reconstruction. I also imagine that there was no vestal in my party because I had an eldritch creature, namely the duelist. Then, I start looking at the other sections in the character menu, and see there is a fifth party member sitting on the benches. The houndmaster. So, my guess is that characters now could fall in combat, besides dying, and you can actually have the fifth party member replace them. Which makes sense, because next I looked at the map. And it was huge. It was actually an open world that emcompassed the old isle/peninsula from the first game. Yes, an open world map with randomly generated pathways that led into the different areas. I can see the time of day. I can also see that there are the ruins which are connected to the darkest dungeon with a weird marker obove it, the farming fields, the old battleground, the cove, a couple of other locations, various points of interest and the town, with what looked like trading routes, one of which went between the town and the cove, where I had managed to build a trading port. So, I imagine that now it was possible to build in the dungeon locations the further you progressed their levels by killing the resptective bosses, to retake your land and unlock unique perks and upgrades. As I said. There was a whole other layer of management and complexity added to the game. Also, I noticed there was this magenta hue to the ruins, which was unnatural. So, I check the map, and realize that the ruins were now being affected by the other areas in the game. So, since I hadn't quested on the cove for some time already. The enemies from the cove had moved into the ruins, changing the mechanics from the ruins. Which explained why there were sunken rooms, and fishmen there. It was pretty awesome. I believe this would have affected the possibility to spawn unique events and bosses, too. Really, really cool concepts that were confined to the dream. So, I return to the jester, to decide what is my next move, and the dream ends. Just like that. But this was the darkest dungeon II from my dreams. It was still darkest dungeon in spirt. But just bigger and better. And it is gone now. But it was amazing.

I was always fascinated by the concept of mysticism. My mother used to go to this witch when she was younger. And there were always talks about rituals that involved bodily fluids as elements of the practice, as well as other weird stuff. It was kinda gross, actually. And she would take me with her, when I was a child. And I remember staring down at this old woman because she was basically stealing from my mother. And that wouldn't be a problem if it wasn't because my mother is a very emotional person, more so than other women in general. Because there are people who go into it knowing that this is a psychological support thing. But she was having other problems with her life, because she has the same endocrine condition that I do. But in her mind she had gotten the idea that there was a supernatural element to this problem. And since superstition ran in the family, she was spending the money that could have gone into her treatment in this scam. And my mother was expecting her life to change, and her condition was worsening because the problem was not that another family member had bewitched her, but that her body was failing to produce the adecuate level of estrogen that would make her act and feel like a normal woman. Which is the same problem that I have. My body is failing to produce testosterone which is what makes any normal man look and act like one. So, we are underdeveloped. Even childish. Which is the reason I like mlp, and she likes things like hello kitty. Anyways, I like to entertaining the notion of mysticism, but not to take money from people who is troubled because of medical problems that can be treated. Because you are basically screwing them over at that point. Especially vulnerable people like her. But still. I like the idea as a creative process of sorts. You can have your own little rituals, that are ways to express yourself and create a certain atmosphere that makes you feel better. Like lighting candles, and burning incense. That is the reason I like "magic" so much. It is about creativity. And even hope, to some degree. I am very good at it, actually. But some people would consider it a form of dissociation. And it is. But that is not a bad thing. Especially, because we need it in this family. We need that hope. Since we are a little broken.

Nothing much. My mother was always a strange and solitary person, and I am a strange and solitary individual, as well. Someone who still lives with his family. The same way my family lived with theirs well into their forties. There are some developmental issues and disorders in there, too. But sometimes I feel this wanting. It is the animal calling. And I want to go out for the night. Yet my ego separates again and again. So, we have been living our lives in a reclusive way. Because things can get dangerous. I've seen how people can get when they become uninhibited. And the reality is that I am not better. In fact, I am possibly worse. I mean, we all have that to some degree. But, I would rather keep everything under control. If it means I can continue to live my life the way it is right now. Because I am not mentally stable. And I never was. I know that the moment I get involved with someone else. If I get hurt, that person is going to be in great danger. But I've know this since childhood. So, I avoid people for the most part. Since I can recognize these pathological patterns with me. My mother has them, too. Her personality is desintregated, and she projects that disowned aspect onto others. Also, I don't want to hurt people. Because to be falible is in our nature. And I am at the edge, already. So, we live our isolated lives in relative peace instead. Never going out much. Never interacting much. We are like little ghosts.

Hey, how is it going? I hope you are doing alright. Also, welcome to the herd. Have fun.

My mother made me some hachis parmentier in taco version. It has minced meat with various spices, puree, cinammon and sugar. They are great.

I feel better now. I feel like myself when she is by my side. It is only when I lose sight of my mother that I start becoming like a rabid animal. I always had to deal with this on my own. Because nobody wanted to recognize what had happened in this family. Despite the fact that we could have used therapy. It happened during the time I was studying for a career in medicine, that the "problem" started to hit me harder. Because I was lacking what was normal for any man of that age. The company. And I was falling behind. But all she did was crossing her arms. It was almost like she enjoyed to see me fail. My mother knew I was trying to move forward at the time, but she held me back, again. And everytime I would ask her, when I was interested in someone and needed advice as to how approach that person. She acted as a barrier. Our relationship has always been like this. She tries to move on and I hold her back, I try to move on and she holds back. In truth. I was always attracted to her. Normally, a healthier man would have looked for a woman outside his own circle. But that was never the case with me. So, I turned to my own mother. In great part, due to the inherited condition. To this day she won't say a word about it. And she keeps acting strange around me. Using perfumes and walking in a certain manner. And it makes me feel confused and nauseous. There is anything we can do now. They tore the family apart. Or she did. The rest of the people here always seemed to have put more blame on her than her father. But that is the reason whenever I try to approach another person, it feels like I am cheating on my mother. It is a mess.

I had a chance to talk with my mother, honestly. To explain her the impotence and shame that I have to live with everyday, and how important is her fidelity to me. I told her to not be stupid, basically. I showed her what happaned to these women who cheated on their men, when they were found. She started crying. So, I hugged her and told her that everything was gonna be alright. That there was nothing to fear, as long as she is faithful to the broken man in me. That she is my woman in this life, and how much I need her to calm the pain. Because I have to live with this lessened body as the result of the incestuous relationship she had with her own father. And that I wasn't gonna treat her like he did. Because she is everything I have. Remember, if there is someone you love. Be honest with that person. Be faithful. Especially, if you owe them this much. That is the best you can do to advert anything bad from happening. Always with honesty. Because I had been waiting for that honesty since I was a kid. But it never happened. Both her life and mine are in her hands now. It is a complex relationship I have with my mother/sister. This family is going down, regarless. Because I am a broken man who is depressive most of the time, and she is a still a traumatized girl who hates the whole world because of what her father did to her. Since she was pretty much a minor. And there was a degree of emotional manipulation in the process. But we will make the best out of it, while it lasts. Stay well, people.

The mod Beyond Reach for Skyrim. I am continuing with an old save, since I usually tend to create multiple characters interwoven within this massive story. It requires some roleplay. Especially when I manage integrate these often complex stories into the one provided by the game itself. It is like solving puzzle with so many moving parts. One affecting each other. And it adds a lot to the experience. Sometimes, so much that the game becomes secondary. It is a creative process for me.

I am still playing the dankest dungeon. Or was. The game kicked the bucket - infinite loading screen. I lost the whole save, which is a shame because I was near the end, having lost only two heroes to some RNG bs, and my own obstinacy. But this also means I have officially beaten this game by default. The game actually surrendered, I want to believe. Still, a little disappointing. It is like winning a boxing match because your opponent had a seizure and is now on a permanent coma. So, yeah. I have nothing to say, really.

Fight to live another day, or live to fight another day. It doesn't matter as long as there is hope. Or cookies. They are interchangeable, really.