Brendan's Progress and the Final Stretch Part 3

As of this very post, I'm at 40,135 words. I have 9,865 words left to write in a matter of two days.

I'll probably still write a little bit more before this day over. I may even write a little more after midnight, and have it count for "tomorrow" and whatnot.

But I'm getting there. I can see the light. I brought my remaining word count down to below 10k. This is very, very doable at this point.

And I still got the fire to write it too. It's not like I'm struggling to come up with stuff. Granted, this is heading in a direction I kinda sorta didn't exactly imagine it to go... mostly within the specific details of where it went at this point, as opposed to where it is a whole... oh, my mind, what a wonderful piece of work.

But this is what happens when you improvise a novel from scratch. I have plenty of general ideas, but I have no idea how this is going to come out in the end. I do know that when it's all said and done, the final product is going to be ridiculously amazing.

But I still don't think I write literature. Naaah, literature is for those who give a shit.

This entire novel seems to be based on not giving a shit. Or rather, the entire way I'm writing this novel is based on not giving a shit.

Tuesday the 29th and Wednesday the 30th remain. Tomorrow is my final day off from work, and Wednesday, I do in fact work. But if it's not too busy, best believe I'm cheating and going to get more than a few words done via my phone....

So yeah. 40,135 words written. 9,865 words left to write. Enough of this day is left to knock out maybe 500-1000 more words, and maybe tomorrow, if I'm really, really ridiculous enough and insane enough, I'll knock the entire remainder out...

That actually sounds like something to aim for...

Hope

Intro:

I maintain insanity constantly
To keep from breaking down.
I tell you everything's okay
To keep from your pity.
I fear everything equally
But they think I'm fearless.
I'm inspired by the bullshit
Because the pleasant is rare...

The Song Itself:

Bad things happen to everyone, right? Okay,
So when bad sees me they say, "That's life so stop complaining."
Well maybe I've kept it in for a little too long
Cause suddenly I've been inspired to write a little song.
See life's been getting at me on some devious shit,
And separately the events are just some meaningless shit,
But when you put them all together you'll know why I'm the best,
Because Mr. Mark Littles fails no test.
I'm a grind my teeth and clinch my fist
As I begin a very much so unpleasant list.
Comprehending the upcoming will be like chewing on dry dough
As your theories are proven that I really am a psycho.
If something about this far strikes a bit of fear,
Then my suggestion for you is to stop right here.
The ink is the bullet and the pen is the gun
In three, two, one...

I'm on lock at 19 like a bank at night,
Got jumped cause months earlier I won a fair fight.
Leaving a school I love cause the shit's too expensive,
Nobody reads my shit cause I'm much too expressive.
I own intelligence that's both a gift and a curse,
Never got what was shared because someone splurged.
Once had a ringworm in my head for wearing my brother's hat,
Pops passed away already, enough said about that.
The girl that I love don't love me the way I love her,
Prom was cool for you, but me, I made it a blur.
I'm very helpful but I get no help when I'm feeling down,
Tapped plenty of ass but what they ass doing now?
Huge amounts of envy aimed at my shitty life,
I'm judged like OJ in '95
I hope you love my ink to pen, bullet to gun set,
Cause the scary shit is I ain't even done yet.

Fought for respect, won the fight, still ain't respected.
Always trying new shit, always rejected.
Even amongst friends, they ain't ready for the difference,
If I get too unique, they just stop listening.
Moving from neighborhoods with people who embrace me,
I must be ugly as fuck 'cause can't nobody face me.
My ability to be by myself works too well.
I wish I was Dr. Scholls so I could just gel
And slide free from the inner anger that won't go away
As I keep it bottled up with platinum everyday
'Cause I'm too nice to take this shit out on people,
If I did there's no doubt that I'd be lethal.
Counseling? Shit, I might confuse them,
Assign me to a shrink and I'll have him on REM
That's Rapid Eye Movement, it indicates that you're dreaming
Since you can't see my anger while my smile is beaming.

Random bridge:

So what keeps Mark ticking without going BOOM! like a time bomb waiting to explode and kill the mases that happen to be in teh wrong place at the wrong time because life constantly tosses shit to the fan hoping that it hits someone in the face and then they have to go wash their face because they don't want it stinking up their face because they have a significant other to kiss? Did you forget that statement was a question? Good, that was by design.

What keeps me ticking is the desire to overcome,
The desire that maybe one day I'll rise like the sun,
Proving my abilities are as sure as daybreak
As I carry along as many friends as I can take.
I only have to hands and my arms ain't that big,
But determination can promote any gig.
As I psuh to remove the first two letters of impossible
And my story's passed on as a legendary chronicle.
Something in me says strive till there's no mortal on top of me,
See I'm a mortal too, and anything can stop me,
But I can break diamonds, so it can't be that easy
As I get right back up the moment after you defeat me.
I've been beaten, bruised, and battered, so I searched my soul
And the single thing that helps me achieve my goal
Is hope...