It’s been one year since therapy

It’s been one year since my first round of therapy ended.

Prior to the therapy I was consistently surrounded by suicidal resolves. I had lost myself. My art production was nill, except the poetry I would write once a month or so. Those poems became the lyrics to my keyboard album “Tempted to Live.” They were a stream of unedited thoughts, and the lyrics would get more personal and less rythmic, less polished, by the end.

It ended with the resolve to kill myself.

In reality though, I saw only two options going forward. Seek professional help, or end my life.

In therapy, I managed to speak of my traumas.. Topics I was convinced beforehand would never come out. I was able to understand how certain events and leading mindsets controlled the greater scheme of things for me (Notice I’m being general, because you’re not my therapist. I may get more in depth as I release music).

Leaving the therapy I no longer saw it an option to end my life. That’s all I needed, though I learned a great wealth of myself, and I’ll forever be eternally grateful to my therapist for being there to keep me company. The depression didn’t go away completely, it’s still a natural feeling. It simply does not lead me to that fatal resolve.

My childhood is one I wouldn’t wish on an enemy. The sadness that drained me each night, I hate to think how long any given person could sustain it. I deeply love every person I have ever met, those whom I remember, and those whom I forgive. Each individual is a whole universe I wish to travel through; but alas, if I were to focus on each person at a time I would not have a story to hold for myself. Don’t you dare let yourself believe you are alone, not as long as I’m at reach. I do not want to end my life, not without knowing how many stories there are out there I want to know about. Not as long as that beautiful cloudy sky exists. I want to feel the weight of everybody’s hurt. I can feel the weight of it when you’re happy.

To transition, I tend to express specific and related emotions through specific or related mediums of expression. For example, in general when I express love, happiness, tranquility, it will be through photography. My anger, stress, sexual innuendo, will be expressed through my black and white checkered drawings and paintings.

My fears, depressions, weaknesses, will be expressed through music. This natural method of expression answers why my music tends to be of deep, intense themes such as loneliness, romantic loss, anti-religion, death, and suicide (To reword, I never focus on these themes when working on things other than music).

Through therapy I realised this.

My next musical project, titled There Goes Everybody, focuses on losing friends and family to circumstance, but more prominently, to death, as well as losing focus on the ‘greater scheme of things,’ taking advantage of relationships, and feeling taken advantage of, useless, alone. I have reset the project twice now, opting to make several releases over time rather than all at once as an album. This will slowly roll out, but hopefully it all is released by August. Projected setlist is constantly changing, so I can’t share it. Track one though is deadset: 

01. Till Death Do Its Part

-E

My Ex Epilogue, an imaginary band

From the years 2009 and 2014, ages 13-18, I wrote lyrics for songs that only existed in my head (and of course the pages I wrote the lyrics on). I would read the lyrics and the entire set of an alternative rock band would play in my head. I bunched the lyrics into albums to keep them in order, for a total of 54 albums varying from 10 to 18 tracks each. It was an imaginary band called My Ex Epilogue. Most of the lyrics were written in middle and high school during class. bored or attentive, a great deal of where my mind was on were the sheets of lyrics I hid under my book or in the second half of each notebook.

Here’s part of an excel sheet with all the details I was able to keep before the writing was too much ahead of this:

mxp-1

The bold colors to the far left represent the general shift in tone and theme, going from general gory themes to concept albums about world catastrophes to a zombie theme to anti- government from punk sounds to arena rock to pop rock. I took inspiration from My Chemical Romance, The Used, Marilyn Manson, The Strokes, Matchbook Romance, Of Montreal, to name a few..

Then the blue albums and EP titles as well, with the total number of tracks I wrote for the project, then the times the album would be written and then finalized (printed!). the orange titles are individual tracks that stand out the most.

Here’s another glimpse of the data I have,mxp-3

The blue is official album length, green the “B-Sides,” songs that didn’t fit well in the album but stayed as part of the project as a whole. Light blue are EPs, transitional songs or a mix of things that couldn’t fit as an album. orange is lost lyrics. There’s about twice as many lost lyrics I didn’t include. So my total comes to 734 album tracks and 1045 total lyrics written in the six years.

After 2014, I have written ZERO lyrics for this imaginary band My Ex Epilogue, though I still use the title My Ex Epilogue as my artist name when publishing my keyboard/piano albums on SoundCloud.

The 55th album-to-be, My Escape, ended up being a long poetry project of poems ranging from half a page to 6 pages long. This project became the foundation for my 16th keyboard/vocal album, “Tempted To Live,” since virtually all the lyrics come from there.

It became increasingly difficult to write my lyrics in college. I couldn’t afford to divide my attention, and there wasn’t a different setting I felt comfortable writing in.

And thus, was My Ex Epilogue, the project of 1000+ lyrics. I don’t plan on publishing the lyrics, or at least 98% of them, I won’t. x) They’re not that great.

Here’s a list of all the albums in order:

2009

1 Witness Trial 4-Jan
2 Through Betrayal and Blames 15-Mar
3 War Of Assholes 4-May
4 Burn Your Eyes 5-Jul
5 Bastards In Hell 18-Jul
6 Robot Acadamy 1-Aug
7 Orders From The Captain 30-Sep
8 Bullets For My Birthday 25-Oct
9 The Ceremony Isn’t Over Until I Cry 25-Nov

2010

10 World War 4-Jan
11 Where We Will Evenly Burn 14-Feb
12 Innocent Hands With Stains Of Blood 12-Mar
13 The Lights Are Out Again 2-Apr
14 Provoked! 16-Apr
15 SINCAMP 7-May
16 Egos Forever 3-Sep
17 Sanative Master 10-Sep
18 Never Let Go 19-Nov


2011

19 The Dead Parade! 7-Jan
20 The End of the World 11-Mar
21 Maybe It’s Just Love 13-May
22 Disenchant Me 17-Jun
23 Rotten World 15-Jul
24 SIINCAMP 5-Aug
25 Bunnies and Shovels 18-Aug
26 Kill All The Sinners 23-Aug
27 The Stars Under the Sea 10-Sep
28 Easy For Suicide 16-Sep
29 Burning Down the Ghost Town 7-Oct
30 Killer In Me 11-Nov
31 Consequences of the Loveblind 18-Nov
32 Blow Up the Sun! 12-Dec
33 Rapture For My Heart 16-Dec

2012

34 Never Surrender 13-Jan
35 EXPLODE 20-Feb
36 Revenga!! 29-Feb
37 You Never Live Twice 16-Mar
38 Something To Live For 9-Apr
39 Something To Die For 14-May
40 Cxxxx Mxxxx Pxxxx 11-Jun
41 Survive 5-Jul
42 Moderne. Dangereux. 29-Aug
43 Underground Love 14-Sep
44 Raise Your Voice 5-Oct

2013

45 Apocalypse of Love 7-Jan
46 Scattered Light 5-Jul
47 Fall of Heterika 13-Sep
48 Minus the People, Versus the World 31-Oct
49 Vices or Virtues 18-Nov
50 Hiraeth 25-Dec

2014

51 They Will Try Erasing Us 12-Feb
52 Better Days 10-Mar
53 One Last Good Look 20-Apr
54 Modern Cassette 7-Jun

55- “My Escape” (roughly Nov 2014) becomes “Tempted to Live” one year later, November 4th 2015:

Bite Back (draft)

The Penguin King walked up to the detective, who decided to stay speechless a little while longer. The cadavers were sprawled out on the floor, and you just wanted to see them twitch, even though you never wanted to see so much blood.

“Heh,” scoffed the King, “This floor is still too clean.”

Adrian kept watching from behind the curtains, holding his breath like it was his last. He was the last one they were looking for, and the butcher didn’t rat them out.

“It’s only what they deserve… Cut off their fingers.”

The butcher did as he was told, and the detective was forced to watch. The handcuffs pierced his wrists like blades. Cold, wet blades.

When the masquerade upstairs started, the Penguin King smiled at the detective and took his bag of fingers up with him. The butcher started dragging one of the bodies to a freezer, but suddenly got hit in the back of the head with a pan and knocked out. Adrian ran past the detective who was going crazy.

“Hey! Who the hell are you!?”

Adrian stopped and turned around, looking straight into the dreaded man’s eyes.

“Just another assailant.”

“Hey!! Come back!”

Back at the masquerade, there was a slow dance with the creepiest music you’ve ever heard. Violins out of sync, and low trumpets, that gave long blows, something like a scratch on a whiteboard, and sirens.

The Penguin King put on his mask and entered into the tuxedos and puffy dresses. Pale vampires who al have a secret to keep from one another. It seemed almost hostile, but that’s a normal thing.

Adrian came into the masquerade, and grabbed a mask on the drink table. The mask was of a vulture, but who would’ve known it was one of only three at the party. Three other men had broken in and poisoned the drinks. When The Penguin King noticed from a distance the liquids being poured in, he drew out his fangs in fate and bumped into Adrian, who was only trying to escape unnoticed.

Adrian’s mask held a red flag, and the Penguin King stabbed him with a stake right in between his chest, then grabbed his mask as he fell.

It is never expected of a father to ever hurt his son, but that’s what just happened. Everyone was in shock, and the other two detectives started sprinting into the pillars. The butcher was waiting just behind one and swung his sharpest cutter at them like an axe on a tree. The other detective brought out a gun and aimed it at the butcher, but was tackled by a stream of vampires.

Adrian looked up into the artwork on the ceiling of the hall. This was his final moment. To die in the hands of the Penguin Army was only an honorary death, and his father, with waterfalls hanging down his wide pupils, took his own fate in his own hands as well.

The detective in the cooking hall, slipped his hands out and found his way into a cave, looking for an escape, but most likely never to come out of it again.