Reject Sleep

My access to the internet has been all but nonexistent, which is my excuse for the lack of regular postings as of late. I have, however, been very busy.

I've no reason to dream is four pages away from completion. It has the potential to be the most revolutionary and interactive work of art ever created.

I've also written two new pieces: "The American Dream is Dead and We Killed It" is about how impossible we've made it to attain the dreams we have in order to make slaving our days away more tolerable. The second is the next in my "To the girl..." series. It's titled "To the girl who taught me to make sure the risk is worth the reward". I'm pretty proud of these two pieces, but they will remain exclusive to my second novel and, even then, you're going to have to work in order to find them.

I can't wait to show it to you.

Assiduous

As reported in my last two entries, I've finished my first novel after three long years. As good as it felt to finally be able to put one of my projects to rest, I've already moved on to the next. And guess what, it's almost finished.

Those of you who followed my previous blog Scattered Thoughts might remember the mention of a book entitled I've no reason to dream.

It was supposed to be the greatest love story ever told, but it's become a different beast altogether. It's a true horror story, told unlike anything which has ever been done before. The book will also be a detective story of sorts, packaged with the evidence the readers will need in order to piece together the cryptic contents of its pages. It's an interactive experience on a level which could keep people busy for years without ever scratching the surface.

I guarantee you, this is literary history in the making.

An open letter to the literary agents of the world.

To whom it may concern,

My name is Davlin Stewart and without the written word I would not be alive today. What started as a form of therapy has turned into a passion which only burns brighter with each passing day. My book, My time in Hell and other whimsical tales, covers eight years of struggle where I'd turned to writing in order to make sense of the world around me. Just a few of the few topics covered within its pages include relationships, molestation, drugs/alcohol, religion, contracting STDs, a five day stint in a mental hospital, the trials of being an unknown author, performing in open mics, making progress with mental illness and finding a sense of peace despite it all. Since this features almost a decade of work the reader will get to see the growth I've made not only as a person, but a writer as well. The market for this kind of work is massive, because there is something here for everyone.


Since this is a business, let's talk shop. The following are books which are similar to the one I'm offering you today, as well as the number of copies sold:
The perks of being a wallflower by Stephen Chbosky-more than 700,000 copies.
Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers-several hundred thousand copies
I hope they serve beer in Hell by Tucker Max- over one million copies worldwide

I understand your reticence with signing an unpublished author. While it's true I've not been featured in any known publications I am not unknown. In a year and a half my blog Scattered Thoughts has generated 5,829 views from all over the world and this is just one of my many outlets. While this may not sound too impressive, keep in mind I've been using only Facebook and self promotion to help get my name out to the masses. Once people find my work, they always come back for more and I guarantee these numbers will grow exponentially if I could only reach a larger market.

I've spent the last two dollars I have in order to buy a cup of coffee for the free wi-fi in order to send this email to you. My heart and soul has been put into this work and all I ask is for you to not take this lightly. If you agree to represent me you will acquire so much more than book; you'll also get an artist with a drive and work ethic the likes of which you have never seen. Snooki and "The Situation" are currently New York Times bestsellers and I'm convinced each of them is illiterate. Don't you think it's time we see what a person with talent and an undying love of the written word can accomplish?

Thank you for getting this far,
Davlin Stewart

At long last...

The Scattered Thoughts rewrite is complete.

The new title is,

My Time in Hell
and other whimsical tales.

Now, I just have to accomplish the impossible and get it published.

Excurse

Daisy-Brand New

I awoke Friday morning at 11:11 feeling more exhausted then when I finally passed out six hours prior. I'd dreamed about her four times which left me in a sad, nostalgic funk I was never able to completely shake. Memories of the dreams would intersect with those from the times we shared, yielding a surreal thought process, and it left me on the brink of tears I wouldn't allow to be released. Right now, 12 hours away she's working on reclaiming her identity and as for me, well...I'm fighting just to get through each passing day.

I'm running out of options and the hole just keeps growing deeper and deeper. My brain constantly shifts from focusing on financial woes, old wounds, my deteriorating mental state, but ultimately always leads back to her. Sometimes, I catch myself checking my email in hopes of finding one from her, but those days are long gone. All that remains is the here and now, which is something I no longer truly want.

Every conversation since moving back has substantiated things which have, up until now, only been theories. While I'd love to share all of this with you, I've also seen first hand how quickly these blogs can be misinterpreted and later used as ammunition against me.

My words are the only things I have left to trust and I don't think people are quite ready to hear what it is I have to say.

See where this rope ends?
There is a noose and it looks,
to be just my size.

I'm back! Oh, you didn't know I left. Well...this is awkward.

Set by example-Twiztid

When I disappeared the way I did, there were a lot of hurt people left behind. For six months I was a ghost and during the silence I lost myself. Then, almost everything else.

Now I'm back and those I'd abandoned are calling me out. It's a strange thing. I've never meant to hurt anybody, I'm not malicious by nature. However, it does seem that no matter what decisions I make, those closest to me get burned in the process.

So I run. I push everyone away so that when I collapse in on myself, they don't get dragged down with me. I'm starting to not feel so great about the person I've become. In the last couple of months I've heard some of the people I've loved the most say hurtful, but honest, things about what I am.

But they don't understand and I've run out of ways to explain. Here's the truth. Right now, I'm not well mentally. I think I'm actually starting to see what true madness feels like.

But you don't want to hear that.

So I bottle it up and it festers. This makes me sick and my actions become more and more desperate. And you're right, if it was just a breakup I could get over it. But it's fucking not. There's so much more to it.

My bones are starting to crack from the pressure.

So, yeah, the way I left was shitty and I'm sorry for it. But I've got a lot on my plate right now. If you accept my apology, that's fantastic. Though, if you need to get some bashing out of your system, please do me a favor and give me a few months to heal.

Picking up the pieces.

Yesterday, my mom and step dad's house was broken into and ransacked. A few hours later I made a recording on my Mp3 player while walking through what was left of my room. What follows is the transcription. The line breaks are an attempt to mimic the cadence...so deal with it.

I stand at the top of the stairs,
and,
almost every,
piece of me,
is scattered all around.
A few...precious treasures are missing,
others broken.
and I'm not really sure what to think right now.
As I walk,
across,
the room,
there are memories.
Every piece,
of baggage that you carry,
is a memory.
From the clothes you wear,
to your Mp3s,
Everything you own,
has a story,
to tell.
This is what makes us sentimental.
But,
to walk in,
and see your entire life,
in a physical disarray.
Everywhere you look,
is a memento.
A painting of Bruce Campbell.
Small plastic Batmobile.
Half a dozen spirals.
Then you start to notice the empty spaces.
and you see what they took.
you look,
at the spot,
where your 360 used to be.
It fucks with your head,
which is a fragile thing.
As my eyes assess the damage,
I think,
"Jesus Christ,
what's left to take?"
Right now,
I can hear noises downstairs.
And I'm terrified.
yet,
also relieved.
I just wanna be awake when it happens.
It feels like my time is up,
and,
I think this is it.
And I can't,
I can see everything,
but I can't,
find a goddamn pen to write it all down.
I don't know if anyone,
is going to hear this,
but I hope they do.
At the top of the stairs again.
I've booby trapped the door with a broom.
And I think about everything,
her,
the fights,
empty promises,
broken ones.
all of it and,
I wish I had a second chance,
and actually used it to show her what I'm made of.
Now I,
see it all.
and it doesn't do a damn bit of good.

An overdue introduction

A lifeless ordinary-Motion City Soundtrack

This blog is now two weeks old and I can't imagine what those of you who have never seen any of my other work might be thinking. My name is Davlin Stewart; I've got five other blogs and a website currently floating in limbo. What you're reading now is the continuation of the story I'd been telling on Scattered Thoughts for almost three years.

You see, I'm fucked up in the head and my heart is unstable. These are the ingredients for a molitove cocktail of self destruction. It also does wonders for the imagination. I take whatever intense emotion I'm going through at the moment and capture it through the power of the written word. There it becomes the piece of a puzzle so intricate that no one else will ever put it all together.

Actually, I dare you to try.

And with this...I release you.

1. Anna-Stone Sour
2. Fix you-The Offspring
3. She says-Unwritten Law
4. 100 percent-The Forecast
5. Finding home-Saosin
6. Colorado sunrise-3OH!3
7. Empty apartment-Yellowcard
8. Not alright-Smile Empty Soul
9. Devotion and desire-Bayside
10. Black Dahlia-Hollywood Undead
11. Until the day I die-Story of the Year
12. The bleeding-Five Finger Death Punch
13. God of wine-Third Eye Blind
14. Can't finish what you started-Motion City Soundtrack
15. Discovering the waterfront-Silverstein
16. Failure by design-Brand New
17. No it isn't- +44

I can't sleep anymore because she's not there.

And everytime I close my eyes...

I see someone else in my place next to her.

Epiphany in the gloom

Drilled a wire through my cheek-Blue October

I turn up the headphones to drown out the voices, both in and external. It's in this state that things actually start making sense. As the pen in my hand dances across the paper, my fears begin to take shape.

People ask questions and are then unhappy with the answers they receive. They respond in anger and, even if all the hearts are in the right place, only make the situation worse. Through mostly one sided conversations and lonely, late night drives the scabs of old wounds are picked until they are once again fresh, also doing little to help the present situation. There's nowhere to go and a moment's relief has become a rare and precious commodity.

Everyone has their own answers and directions as to what I'm supposed to do next, but maybe that's not what is truly best for me. The cycle continues to spin and it makes me dizzy. I can't fit into anyone else' box anymore. For the last month and change I've heard almost nothing but how much of a disappointment I've been and the horrible person I've become. And you know what? I just don't give a fuck anymore. I can't waste anymore time trying to become what Ana, my parents or anyone else thinks I should be. I've given everything I am to people...there's nothing left.

I'm not sure what's going to happen, or what road I'm going to take. Where ever I may end up, the decision is going to be my own. From now on, I need to do what I need to, for me. I'm not asking for you to accept this, but, please, try to understand.

This shell is all that's left,
of a life I didn't want to live.
I've lost the ability,
to see each new day as a gift.
So many thoughts in my head,
I could never bring myself to share.
So as the time passed us by,
you remained blissfully unaware.
But I was always broken,
and now there's nowhere else to run.
The light from these burning bridges,
they shine brighter than the sun.

When I told you how I'd felt about you, I meant every word. I'd never loved anyone like this before. I truthfully wanted us to be together forever, but now we don't even speak. Seeing how happy you became after we fell apart shows me more than your words ever did. I wish I could just let us go and move on, but I can't. Everyday without you just makes it worse.

It seems that I'm unlucky,
like the tattoo on my chest.
Can't sleep in my bed at night,
that's where demons like to rest.

All these scratches on my knees,
are from crawling in defeat.
I'll fight again tomorrow,
but for now I must retreat.

Regarding the unintentional clusterfuck.

First, I want to put something on record. I will never apologize for, or take back anything I have ever written.

Now, that doesn't meant I disregard your feelings about them. If you have any issues or concerns about my work, please feel free to talk to me about them. I welcome it.

The following questions have been recently posed to me and, now that I'm alone at my laptop, I would like to answer them.

1. Why do you need to write?
There is no easy way to answer this, and honestly this question baffles me. You don't know what it's like to be me anymore than I you. Me, I feel too goddamn much and most of it is...unpleasant.

At first, I bottled it up as best I could and it became a cancer. I would curl into the fetal position, because I could physically feel it eating away at my insides. After several visits to the ER, the doctors weren't able to find anything wrong with me. Turns out the intense stomach aches were all in my head. Dad flipped out.

Two months into my senior year I couldn't take it anymore and planned to act on my darker urges. Mom picked me up and took me to the hospital I would end up checking myself into four years later. This is when I touched paper to pen for the first time and released what was in my head. I ended up with a song which rambled on for four pages. Though sloppy, it was exactly what I needed to say, but had previously been unable to. After that, I never looked back.

2. What purpose does it serve?
It allows me to articulate the pain and use it as the foundation on which to build something beautiful. Sharing it with the world allows me to let it go.

3. Who are you trying to appeal to?
Well, I write for myself first. On the other hand, this is what I want to do for a living, so I do need to try and get my name out there. I've had people tell me something I had written had helped them in times when they needed it most. They're the ones I want to reach.

The only attention or comments I wish to get are those regarding the piece and how it was written. I'm not doing this as a cry for help. I'm not reaching out to be saved, though I do understand and appreciate your intentions.

4. Why can't you just talk to people like normal?
Because I have to hide certain things in every single conversation with another person. Everybody does. No one is completely honest, because we all have to wear different masks in order to fit into our roles in relationships with others. I know I can't be who I really am around people, because it scares them. It's not like that when I write.

I like to choose my words carefully and hate to be interrupted, especially if I listen to your points. When I'm working at a keyboard it's different. I can stare at my words instead of eyes which do little to hide their judgment or terror.

5. Why can't you just write about happy things?
I've written over 400 things and each one of them is a record of how I felt at that particular time. You can't pick five at random or read half of one and think you've seen all I have to offer. And if you think you've got me figured out, stop.

I write about my life and, while most of it has been what many would call "dark", there have been several moments which were able to shine through. Most people just don't stick around long enough to see for themselves.

In conclusion, I do apologize for any negative feelings the first entry of this blog may have given you. This was never my intention. However, writing it was the first time I felt good about myself in awhile and I refuse to feel any other way.

I'm a writer. This is just what I do.

Where to go from here

A Synonym For Acquiesce-Bayside

After a year spent chasing my dreams, the time has finally come to wake up. No matter how hard I try to keep my eyes closed and convince myself I'm still asleep, the new day comes and with it the painful reminders of all the things I've lost along the way. Now I find myself in one of the worst situations of my life and I'm not sure how to go forward.

It was supposed to be different this time around, no, she was supposed to be different. Actually, she was and that's kind of the problem. I'll go into more detail on this at a later date, because, frankly, at this point I can't stand the thought of her.

Right now all that matters is my life and what I choose to do with it. Over the last two weeks I've gone into a major downward spiral that's made things much, much worse and I need to figure out how to dig myself out of this hole. I'm staying with my mom and step-dad and I can't talk to them. I can't tell them how bad I've fucked things up this time and the clock is constantly ticking.

The things I'm about to say aren't out of self pity and they're not a cry for help. I'm writing this because it's what I've always done and, no matter how much I fight it, it's just so deeply ingrained that I can't escape it. This is me finally being honest.

I've spent the last two weeks grieving the loss of something I thought was going to be permanent and feeling hopeless with the financial burdens I've stuck myself with. It was all too much to bear and I wanted an escape, so I made a plan to end it all.

Last Wednesday I was going to kill myself.

Unfortunately, my mom was sick and stayed home from work and put a temporary obstruction on my demise and I stayed in my room and cried all day. Then she stayed home on Thursday and I grew increasingly desperate, unwilling to face yet another day.

Now here it is several days later and the desire is still there, though I'm trying to fight it and stay positive. I don't know why it's always been a viable option for me, or why the thought of it is so appealing. All I do know is I have to find a way passed all of this.

I have to take that next step.