"In space the stars are no nearer, just glitters like a morgue..."

 Dissociation (noun) – 1. The disconnection of separation of something from something else of the state of being disconnected; 2. Separation of normally related mental processes, resulting in one group functioning independently from the rest, leading in extreme cases to disorders such as multiple personality.

Jenn once said I was disenchanted with being disenchanted. It’s possibly the most memorable thing anyone has ever told me online, though I never understood what she meant. In another life, I suppose.

Brick Wall

I suppose it’s the same for every writer, right? That feeling that the only person holding you back is you? The plan for returning to school to work on an MFA budded before graduation. That was in 2007. Worked odd jobs. Made myself known in the writing community. It was near prolific for me. We’re talking about a guy whose hatred for all things human, making himself visible. And then it was gone. Just as sudden as it happened.

I waved my white flag and retreated within myself. No explanations. No reasons. Not even a goodbye to my fellow writers.

So what happened? I did. Every project started was put on hold. There were better things to do than write. For instance, there was the idea of writing. Sure. Story ideas flare within me and fizzle just as soon as a pen is in my hand, is on paper. And the characters want life. They’re at the dams, bursting through the flood gates and spilling into my consciousness. I hear them speaking, reciting the lines I’ve never written. I adopt their personalities. I become a story.

Mackie

I no longer knew if Coma White was real or just a side effect.

Marilyn Manson

I’m subjected to believe Mackie once existed. Or perhaps, might’ve existed if things had run their course differently. I imagined him as a fair man, never aging – despite the age he feels rotting him from the inside. A character not unloved, but, nevertheless, forgotten.

MFA Ideals

I’m burned out, I fear. Those who can, do. Those who can’t, teach. Isn’t that the saying? Perhaps being an educator is my destiny after all. There have been those who say that I have the power to motivate, that I should become a teacher. But what hope does this country have when it comes to education? We longer treasure the arts and culture like we once might have. It’s a shocking truth. A sad one. When an old country comes up with pure genius – though, I most graciously disagree – we come up with teenage, Latter Day Saint vampire smut.

And while becoming an educator in a university or college sounds appealing, I want to return the favors of so many. I want to help other budding writers just as I was helped.

Repetition, Unfinished Thought

This post was made in haste. My eyes are beginning to shut. There’s an echo in my head. Mackie bids you farewell.

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