Becoming Monsters

 

 

 

 

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How does anyone write a final goodbye? I've done this a few times now, so it should be easy because I have experience. I wrote one years ago as a teenager, I had one prepared for Spouse before I did dangerous work in Asia, I wrote a few while spending months in the hospital. Parts of those are here, making this more of a goodbye medley than anything.

 

I keep coming back to music. It is a major part of my life. At one point, I was on track to become a professional singer, receiving a lot of training while I was young. Things happened, I moved in a different direction. And while I might not have stayed with music, music stayed with me. Whenever I couldn't find the right words - which was often - I tried to find the right song. An emotional connection expanding on linguistical scope. I picked a few songs above, and I think they bring together what I am feeling, or what makes me...me.

 

I hope people are able to follow this. Anyway, buck down, because this isn't easy for me.

 

Hi! I'm Ai Love. Love Love in the Queen’s English, because I promise I am not a robot bent upon world subjugation through smut. Just Ai is fine. At least, that is what I am calling myself. And maybe I AM Ai, right now. Ai is a persona, a freedom I never explored before. At the core, Ai is every part of me without the restraints. She doesn't have to worry about upsetting people, about hiding behind another persona I now accept I have. Because who I really am isn't what people IRL see either. If I am honest with myself, maybe less than ten people know me. Some of those know me IRL, some know me as Ai. Ai is bombastically lewd, IRL me is quiet and reclusive. Who I am is somewhere in the middle, and only recently am I discovering who that person is.

 

Probably someone I'd like to meet before I die!

 

...too soon?

 

Yeah, I am going to crack jokes. As I said, this isn't easy for me, and we are all going to be a lot better off if I shove the gloomy out.

 

((cut to Monty Python))

"Get on with it!"

 

If you are reading this, it means I have died. I knew this was coming for a long time, though I haven't always accepted it. I have a condition, and it is a ticking clock. When I was hospitalized over a year ago, it became apparent to me that time was running out. I made arrangements with family and close friends, and that is the reason you are reading this right now.

 

Which leaves me with a conundrum: what exactly do I say? This is the crux of it, and I am struggling to find the right thread. If the following seems jumbled, well, then at least it will be familiar territory. Bite my overly complicated exposition, Dumas!

 

Thank you, everyone. I found a way to connect to people, to present a part of me unseen, not even by myself. In a way, it was healing. I have tried to live a good life, but my addictions control me. They cost me two promising careers, they nearly cost me my marriage, they strangle me, they overshadow everything I have done or do. And then I wrote a book and let it all out. I put on a mask as Ai and confessed my perversions. At times it felt like I was vomiting the filth of my life for the world to see. This freedom gave me amazing relief. I hungered to hear what people thought about my writing, I wanted to know their own secret lewdness.

 

I am not perfect, and I'll admit my faults. Like a listing boat, I went from one extreme to the other. There are those I made uncomfortable, and I ask that they forgive me. My problems are my own, not another's. For a time, I delved into that perverse side of myself and reveled in it.

 

At the same time, I enjoy writing. I have written a lot over the years, sometimes as an author, sometimes as an editor. I published books, exposes, articles, scripts and professional outlines used for other publications. Yet when I wrote as Ai, there was a sense of giddiness I never experienced from anything else. A tickling that penetrated deep inside. The ability to say what I really thought. Which was a lot of bad jokes and explicit crudeness. And maybe a bit more. I'll give an example.

 

I am a suicide survivor. I have scars from the experience, both physical and mental. It is a hard thing to put into words. I have had trouble talking about it for decades, even to therapists, even to Spouse. There is a lot of baggage attached, my reasons and feelings about it. Then it became easier. Not because I said anything, but because Honoka did. Like lancing a pustule, when I wrote in fiction I eased the pressure of my own infection. I think, given more time, I might have become a complete person, merging Ai and IRL to become myself.

 

This is a roundabout way of getting to the point, but the point is discovering I was not alone. Yes, I have God and Christ with me since I was a teen. I found and married Spouse. I have the nieces and nephews, I have a few close friends (though not many, and many less today than years ago). However, have you ever stood in a crowded room and felt alone? Who I am left me feeling alone, depressingly so. How can God love someone who is constantly thinking of explicit material? How can Spouse love someone who is constantly thinking unclean thoughts? Who can possibly love someone so filthy?

 

Which is why I am grateful for all of you. You reminded me that I wasn't alone. And so I will leave you with the same lesson:

 

You are not alone. No one is alone, not in the way we perceive. If you see no one nearby, then search for God because He is holding out His hand to you, never demanding, only waiting. And in life, people are the same. You might not see their hands, but everyone - friend or stranger - are also reaching to connect. All you need to do is give instead of expect. The only way to connect with anyone is by giving without anticipated reciprocation. Just give, and then you will be holding someone's hand. Or Someone's.

 

Ultimately, I wrote it out for all the world to see. I didn't name the series by accident. Honoka could only become more when she gave, a process I called Harmonizing. Yes, explicitly crude, but the metaphor is there underneath REALLY bad jokes. Becoming Monsters isn't just a title. What exactly was Honoka becoming? Monsters are those around us all who feel filthy, who feel depressed, who feel alone. Like me. Only by giving to everyday monsters around us do we become better, not by taking. Honoka Harmonized with those she loved. She took upon herself the monsters she loved by giving herself. She became an empathetic monster. The monster Honoka became helped her grow into someone more (yes, literally: I said it was a metaphor!) Or, in other words, loving those around you will help you realize that, in fact, you are not alone.

 

I want to do more, I want to write more. I have so many ideas in my head it hurts, yet my weakness is stamina (ha!). Too many ideas, not enough hours. I want to finish Becoming Monsters, but I guess I never will ((NOTE: delete if finish BM)). Oh well, I'll finish it in Heaven, if God will let me. I bitterly regret never being capable of having any children while alive, but hopefully I'll have them in the next life. If not, I'll see if there are any job openings at the Celestial Daycare. Look for me where the baby angels are, I'll be squishing cheeks for eternity.

 

I love y'all. I have a few other personal messages I am writing out to others, but not everyone is getting one of those so don't feel bad if you missed out. I truly do love each and every one of you. When y'all get to the Kingdoms of Heaven, I'll show you around, maybe sit down and play a game of WH40K or MTG. It'll be fun!

 

I love you, Spouse. I know I am a mess, I know I am a hassle and a half. I am grateful that you love me despite me being me. I'll see you soon (though hopefully not too soon!).

 

Keep Harmonizing!

 

Goodbye.

PS: I and my family wish to remain anonymous, so please forgive me for keeping everything on the downlow. However, I have already planned my funeral, and I know what song will be playing. I'll be there when you listen with me.