A Message

He sat silently.  His eyes fixated on the glowing monitor that stood before him.  On the screen displayed a message of such clarity that he thought have had ceased to exist.  Each letter burned onto his retinas.  Each word paralyzed his mind, ceasing any possible attention loss.  Each punctuation and dotted pauses, like bullets through his conditioned heart.  He felt the blood rush up to his head.  His cheeks flushed a bright red.  His stomach churned with a gut feeling, as though a dozen butterflies danced amongst a field of flourished flowers at irregular intervals.  His eyes began to swell up, unable to tell if the cause to it was the amount of blood that rush to his head, or from the lack of sleep from the past few days.  Amidst the chemical reactions, all that came to his mind was but words of vulgarity.  He refrained from replying and quiet closed the window, ceasing to believe of its existence.

A Roaring Dinosaur

Once in a while, I would bump into things that would look peculiar.  Unfortunately, I cannot put my grasp upon what had happened exactly and what/who was involved entirely.
“Right.  That series…  I stopped reading it.  I’ll get back to it some other time.”  Repeatedly, I say the same phrase.
Also, I cannot remember names as well as I used to.  Perhaps I am getting too old, an excuse for being lazy, a facade to hide that fact that I am more occupied with other things, placing other things in higher priorities, that I black out others, which seem least bit important to me at that moment in time, or rather that I have just completely lost interest.  “Ahh—Yes…Sorry, what is their name again?”, and in the end, waste more time trying to recall non-existent memory, rather than paying attention the first time.
But what was it that occupied my mind?  My consciousness… subconscious…What was I thinking exactly?  I don’t exactly recall either, but it sure felt like an automatic screensaver. 
I have picked up many things, and held onto them.  Apples, oranges, lemons, and the such.  Rotten or not, I held onto them all.  Held onto so many at once that I couldn’t carry anymore, that I would drop them one by one voluntarily, unwillingly, or unknowingly. 
In the past, I have told a few that there’s no point in holding onto something that makes you feel miserable.  What I’m talking about is not throwing away the memory altogether, but rather securing it in place, putting a lid on it, and draining a lesson, an experience from it.
I have also said, “You are still young, you can still grow/improve.  Things can only get better from here.”  Don’t let the words brush pass you and believe everything will be all right.  There is no point in just contemplating about life when nothing is being done.  Act on it.  Pick yourself up, and play the right cards in that foul hand of yours, because no one is going to help you cheat.

I need to work on paying attention.

I know time will not solve this situation between us.  Perhaps we may forget in the future, but the problem still remains.  For if we ever do go back in time, I would have done the same.  I do not regret.  I do not ask to be forgiven, nor do I ask for us to go back in time.  I respect your choice in decisions.  No matter how things may seem, I have my own reasons for my own actions. 
There were times where I agree I have acted recklessly.  I can state we have gone through quite the amount of conflicts.  I apologize for all those times I have done wrong in your right.  I apologizes for all those times made you felt upset, angered, confused, the negatives.  Though it may not have been apparent, I apologize sincerely, honestly, with nothing but words of truth. 
I still remember that day; the incident.  If I had replied, the outcome would have surely been the same.  It was a matter of when.  If I had reached out, stated anything, pulled you back, we would have just stepped back into a mess again.  It would have been a cycle.  Perhaps what I have come to tell is wrong.  Let me be selfish in your eyes just once, if not, for the last time.  Regardless, we were knee-deep in jargon and implied meanings.  We could not possibly come together in the end.  We both knew since the first day.

Let Me Write Once More

His thoughts:

Let me write once more those memories and events, and all those moments of ending time long or short that waltzed inbetween.  Conversing with one’s self, allow the thoughts to bubble, boil, overflow, and press into comprehendable words of fragments and statements.  All of which are labelled cherished moments, dreams, goals, that put upon us what is called happiness even if at once one was felt at uneased during occurance, let them all be put into characters…words.  Permit the hand capable of creation to write down record of what is history of the past, the present, and the predicted future.  Have the ink on paper stretch from side to side; bring to existence what can be seen with the naked eye once more even if in an alternate form and beyond.

——————

Those times when one is unable to put something onto paper, though thoughts flowed constantly in and out of their minds.  By the time one thought gets written down, another barges in faster than what can be inscribed onto paper. Continuously.

So we ask ourselves, “…What is it that I wanted to write again?

Ben is stuck in a writer’s block.  And without a single dominate idea in his head, he twisted and turned in his chair until he decided to write another day…as usual.

A Prelude with the Box

His thoughts:

This technological rectangular box, the computer, is claimed to be the “stepping stone to the future”, to make life easier for all, to aid humanity in creating countless possibilities, furthermore, is now chanting at an irregular interval and tempo, “Check this out, friend me, I know what you did last summer, lose 30 pounds in a month, level up for skill point bonuses, patch update, you just received a message—,…!” Completely harmless. Of course, unless one bothered to open it up and break apart the pieces like Lego and consume. However, that would not be its initial purpose, a tad expensive for a suicidal procedure, and least bit pleasurable.

Regardless, it also has the ability to turn one into something they want to be, such as a full grown adult dressed from head to toe in gold and diamonds, a guardian angel, a vampire, a million— No, billionaire in pixels, a liar, and the such. Women in one hand, money in the other, and vintage sport cars at the back. Aside from the positives, It also has the ability to turn one into the utmost atrocious creature, a shut-in, a NEET (not in employment, education or training); frankly speaking, something against social norms. It is the last thing anyone would want to be and with sufficient reasoning from experience. There are limitless outcomes, and we all know it like John’s magical chocolate touch.

———————-

After his usual classes, Ben returns to his room and metaphorically glues himself to a chair and stared at his assignment having no clue how to complete it. Persuaded by the chanting from this weapon of mass destruction, he shifted over and turned on the power. The only thought that crossed his mind was Google. In this and age, no one would not have heard of such a delicacy. Google is a noun, it is also a verb, “Is this google-able?” … “Hold on, let me google it.” Google is the answer to everything.

By typing a few “keywords”, he is able to access a vast sea of information related to what he wants, and some…not so much. Click after click…page after page…10 minutes after 10 minutes…hours after hours, instead of looking over what he wanted, he is now reading someone’s blog. And to that, he thought perhaps he could make a blog to share his 2 pennies as well. His adventures, his experiences, his emotions, his thoughts,… he shall flood the blog with what could not be said out loud…after his assignment.

A Note

After some thought, this tumblr blog will be altered into a series of biographical posts for a fictional character, Benjamin G., Ben for short. These biographic excerpts will include modern references, his personal interests, experiences, and the such. Please do not take anything written by heart, as they are only opinions, and purely fictional at that. A profile of Benjamin has been posted and can be accessed by the link through the selection menu. Questions are welcomed, but will only be answered through Ben’s perspective.

And without further a due, Ben.