The year’s two thousand and one, it’s official

New town, new house and some sun, beneficial’s

What they told us, “get out there and run!” Me and Mitchell

Used to stay in-house, browsin’ a ton, too artificial

Look, see? It’s hurtin’ your eyes, y’all don’t wanna stay

Stuck in basements, shirkin’ the skies, your dreams await, go on!

See the world, stop lurkin’ and rise to the occasion, it’s amazin’

...

Across the great river and beyond the highest mountains, there sleeps a forest. Unperturbed by civilization, she breathes to her own rhythm. She bears ill will to none, having suffered no wounds to her flora or fauna. Like a child, her mood is as whimsical as her weather is unpredictable. She wakes, pandiculating, to the smile of her doting sun. She laughs with wide, sweeping breezes. She is quick...

“Suffering is good when on the path to redemption.” 

These are the words my father left me as he died. Ironic that I’ve lived by them, even though he nearly killed me....

Dear Diana,

If you are reading this, I have died. In doing so, I have completed my mission. Please understand it was never my intention to involve you in any of this. I hope that one day you might see for yourself the fruits of my dream. As difficult as it may be for you to believe, all of it I did for you....

Every weekend, I have the pleasure of spending time with a peculiar old man named Mr. Morrow. We meet at the coffee shop across from his apartment to discuss the meaning of life. Mr. Morrow executes his routine every single time: he orders a black coffee, adds 8 packs of sugar (“real sugar,” he insists, “not that boring substitute teacher Ms. Splenda”), centers his cup on his napkin, cracks his kn...

No one alive knows who blackened the sky.

Not that it matters. No one has time to wonder. In our efforts to save the world, we doomed it. Now, rather than look to the heavens to dream, we scowl at the dirt and die....

Such wondrous golf balls

Falling from the hot pink sky

As my car gets wrecked...

Anyone worth their salt knows of the legendary Death Mansion. It’s an ancient place, older than time itself, that sits alone at the end of Crescent Hill road. They say the owner died centuries ago, but his body still rises every morning to tend to the house. No one who’s gone there has ever been heard of again....

Uriah was right. The first two setbacks, I recovered from within a day. The third one? It hit me like a freight train. Almost ended me. But I remembered Uriah’s words. I killed the mind. Left it home.

And so, here I am again....

I hate the grind. Since the day I became sentient, the grind has been my kryptonite. I hate work.

This is a story of how I worked my ass off anyway, and won....