Exorcising the Demons

The last bomb finally dropped as I new it must, and my friends turned in their resignation. This is the worst day of my life so far, because the only thing I can think of that could be worse, is becoming an orphan. For me this has just been an utterly breaking and strength erasing event, and I’m sure it’s no triviality for my friend either (but this is still my journal lol). Getting through work felt like doing it with a corkscrew twisting though my stomach.

I drifted off to work with more tics, shakes, and rattles then you can point a stick at, I’ve nearly thrown up about four times, and I’ve had to remind myself, “You don’t fucking cry!”, just to hold it together. As is my custom in times like these, what ever pieces were left, I cast myself back into the forge and let them reshape.

There the Spidey01 we all know, nearly died of his pain and grief in this matter. Very close he came to being replaced by a very different creature, one cold and remorseless like a machine: I looked for the first time in my life, at taking a path, where I don’t know whether it threads along the side of light or darkness… willing to become an archangel or a knight of hell itself, a pure devil even, if it should need be,  ready to destroy anyone in the future who would dare rise to damage SAS, to become a monster if it should need be, something that would make Wiz at his best or worse, look like a limp noodle, for the sake of ensuring that never another war grace these shores. Whatever the cost might be in doing it, whether it would mean welding Souledge or Soulcalibur, that it would be done just the same. In short, take any and every action necessary to ensure that things like the past two weeks, would never be needed again.  I pondered over this course that lay ahead, describing it in my mind, in a sort of disturbing and epic form of poetry that can only exist in ones mind, just what I would be committing myself to. In thinking through that new beings description, what its name would become in place of Spidey01, and what my personal emblem would be in such… I found myself staring back at me through that emblem.

The death of Spidey01 and the rise of an avenging monster would have been the legacy, that Rouge, Valroe, Noer, Medic, Scout, and Ambu left behind, the price of their resolvability; it would also have been committing the first petty act of my life. Looking and questioning my reasons for such a choice of path, deeper at it’s heart, I found the thought that, “I never want to feel like this again”, more then SASs interests was to be found. That creature is so different then myself, that it would’ve warranted changing my name to reflect becoming a different person – an incident like something out of the old testament. Part of my soul cried out, “I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive”, and that nothing will ever kill that tiny silver of goodness in me.

So who emerged from those soul searching fires?


 A sharper more refined image then before, but still Spidey01… not the demon that beckoned. Today’s the closest I’ve ever come, to losing who I am. My name on the net, is incredibly personal, and is an identity that reflects me to the core…. it nearly died, really. Yet as surely as I have rejected darkness and evil all my life, I reject that idea…. of being a devil, even for my own reasons. Spidey01 still lives for what ever I’m worth, and I’m here to stay. Light or dark, right or wrong, I’ll not abide by either, I’ll just raise a flaming Spatha in one hand and a great axe in the other, and leave the suit of armour behind. Perhaps such a beast is really what SAS needs to ensure that the next golden age remains one for us as a group, but I am nether machine nor monster, only a man, and I will not yield my humanity. Whether that’s for anything, anyone, or even myself, I’m a man not fucking machine.


One fortunate thing my life in the real world has taught me about times of bleeding out, eventually you will run out of something to bleed with. When having to watch today ceases to hurt, only time will show. In connection to something I once said of myself, being glad that I’m not made of tin, because I would rust: the words of the great Wizard of Oz come to mind…
As for you, my galvanized friend, you want a heart. You don’t know how lucky you are not to have one. Hearts will never be practical until they can be made unbreakable.

 For better or worse, I have one.