This is Z.X.
Lyrics are what got me writing to begin with. For Morgan it was forums, but for me . . . the fucking lyrics stuck with me ’til the end.
That’s why when I write stories, sometimes I go down through and do the section titles first. Feels like I’m writing the back of one of those angsty albums from the early 00’s. I could write lists and lists of lyrics, but it’s time to fill in the gaps.
Tears for remembrance, and tears for joy
Tears for somebody, for this lonely boy.
Out in the madness, the all seeing eye
Flickers above us, to light up the sky.
Unchain the colors before my eyes,
Yesterday’s sorrows, tomorrow’s white lies.
Scan the horizon, the clouds take me higher.
I shall return from out of the fire.
And so I did.
Every time I look at the year it freaks me out so bad. I see the upload date and it says 15 years ago. It was uploaded in 2008. But everything I like is still here, and that’s what matters. Really, all I ever liked was music.
Metalworker told me I need to play the guitar again; that writing isn’t my only gift. He told me not to run anymore.
But it’s hard when all you ever knew how to do is “Run . . . Live to Fly . . . Fly to live . . . Do or Die.”
My brother, my second best friend . . . And another friend, from way back deep in my soul memories, so far away I can barely reach him most of the time . . . They gave me that together.
It’s a reminder to never forget the past. NEVER FORGET. Fuck, when I first woke up I was so afraid of forgetting. It wasn’t for nothing. None of that was for fucking nothing: I played with fire and I got burned, but this tattoo is a reminder that I can rise up from the ashes in a new millennium.
In another life, in another time–fuck, don’t even remind me of the time–that’s so close but so far away from my old one.
It feels so good to have my old name again. To have a future again. But I’ll never forget where I came from or why I’m here, and this mark of the beast reminds me that I’m in a whole new world.
It’s time to see it. To face the music, in the most literal sense. Listen to all the old songs, learn to play them. Write new ones with Dethrin. Explore the world. Go back to the fields. Don’t be afraid to love again, no matter how much rougher it ends up being than I ever dreamed . . . Or so weirdly gentle that it shakes the Earth.
I just wish I didn’t have to quit cigarettes. It’s too soon.