a solemn dirge held for the deceased,
love had become an obsession.
ergo, death befell one character,
and romance transformed into a nocturne.
bomberman, in his self-pity
wanted to destroy himself, by encasing himself in a square of cross-formation bombs,
the very cross formation almost symbolic of faith,
and faith explodes and dwindles away and dissipates from lack of air.
should things have been handled differently?
was there any other way? one way that could have resulted in a better denouement?
bomberman reflects, bomberman looks into a mirror.
anxiety ensues, and bomberman looks away with a despondent and guilty expression.
the defense mechanism, his bombs?
his own coping devices, had an unfortunate effect on others?
bomberman couldn't look at himself, after that.
he didn't deserve what he looked for, he thought.
and then, he'd feel lonely
kitty? she sometimes purred viciously within his mind, but 'tis a shadow of the heart,
a vision bomberman created to beat himself up out of shame.
in the solipsist world, it would all make sense, and nothing would make sense at the same time,
and that was a distorted harmony, and the minor 2nds would ring in his head constantly, reminding
him that he should give up.
the kitty, his beloved, was an image of true and pure innocence, of affection, of love.
he was still in love.
was that william shatner singing?
bomberman dropped his robotic chin in sadness, and drooped his eyelids down low to avoid any eye contact
with his reflection. there was nothing he could do to turn things back around, this he knew.
and that he felt he knew such an idea, and in spite of such a blaring notion, inside of him, something
would intermittently poke at him from an unconscious level, something almost inexplicable,
but something that kept him alive.
he still had hope that things would turn for the better, but he also realized that he
felt wrong for his actions.
the emptiness that used to occupy his heart would later fill with apprehension and regret
and not even his bombs could tear that down
stronger than a brick in the wall, the undeniable feelings could never seem to remove themselves
from his mind.
but then, he'd turn around, and there she was, haunting him. a hallucination?
she was pink, and with a big visible heart-shaped crevice in her chest region.
he was terrified of what to say or do.
after all the running away from himself that he tried to do, perhaps this was just another
sequence in that.
and he'd be escaping himself for the rest of his life.
did you ever find meaning?
razor viets peepee
it's been a long while since the first story, and now with the release of the second, i proudly announce that this is a solo production !
the girl who co-wrote the first one was unfortunately unavailable to direct this alongside me, so i made the best of what i had, and this arrived
but all in all, i'm very glad i made it, and i'm very happy with the direction i took things, and hope others enjoy it as well
there's a third one on the way to be released, but like with all movies with the number 3 in them, it's gonna suck ass. that's just the way of life, because people don't know how to make movies with the number 3 in them be good. i mean, look at assault on precinct 13, that has a 3 in it, and that's just goofy as hell
anyway, i don't know when i plan on releasing the third one, because i want to make people anxious and turn into eager drooling beavers first, and that's no innuendo there