Eulogy, as follows: “Silas Dunn sits atop the list of the world’s shittiest writers (and shittiest human beings). A long line of decent, hardworking people built families in order to introduce the world to this supremely conceited fuck. He sat at his computer, writing violence, sex, and sometimes the two of them combined. He had a weird fucking brain. If I’m being completely honest, society probably would have benefited if scientists could have studied it. Alas, he died in relative peace. But, rest assured, we do and will always hate Silas Dunn’s weird fucking writing.”
This is relatively true. I’ve been sitting at my desk writing something weird for the past three hours. And none of it benefits anyone. Hell, it doesn’t even really benefit me.
Fuck. I’ve done fuck-all about the betrayals I’ve felt over the last few months. The countless “friends” who have decided that now was a great time to say, “Hey, man, we hate your stuff. And also kinda you.” I thought it’d be a good idea to let it sit & say nothing, like the stupid fucking pacifist I am. I let all of these former acquaintances walk all over me, tell me how horrible I am, tell me how exactly I’m lying to myself, tell me I’m a fucking no-talent hack, tell me that they wouldn’t read my shit if Isis threatened their fucking kids, and I didn’t say a goddamn word. I stood by them. I made excuses — “oh, no they aren’t so bad” or “well, they didn’t actually MEAN that,” or “no, he’s gonna turn around”.
Alas, none of this was true. They were that bad, they actually meant that, and he didn’t turn around.
So, I took to the skies. I fucking screamed at the top of my lungs. I screamed on the fucking mountain-tops. I screamed in the fucking sewers. I screamed myself to sleep and I cursed and I told myself they were wrong about me. Everyone was wrong about me.
Of course, none of this was said aloud. I let everyone think I was fine. I told everyone that I understood, that there were no hard feelings, that things like this happen every day. That I respected the choices they made. Even though the choices they made shoved me into a fucking pit. Even though the choices they made told everyone that I was an evil fuck who lied to the world about his beliefs.
Still, I wanted no confrontations, no hard feelings, no friendships lost.
Because I hadn’t yet realized that those friendships were already lost, buried in an unmarked grave in the middle of a foreign cemetery, surrounded by young trees, lost time, and the hatred of a thousand people I’d once called family.
So, I write today to tell you to be careful who you trust. Even when people draw you into their webs of lies, of deceit, & of hypocrisy disguised as religion, don’t place your trust in them. Because all people are the same. We all fuck up, we all feel hatred, & we all judge.
And no matter what any pastor or prophet or father says, the world is a horrible place that will drag you below if you let it. So find someone who makes the world tolerable. Find someone you’re willing to take on this fucking world with. Find someone who will have your back, ready to fight the enemies lining up at your door to kill you.
And never fucking let them go.