Plenary Indulgences of the Planarian

You know, I always feel like there's some part of me that feels like it's missing. You ever heard of planarians? Type of salt/freshwater little wormy fucks that have an ass, a mouth, and a nervous system. Little bastards tend to be associated with parasitism, and just swim around looking mostly harmless, but unsettling at the back of most peoples minds.

Funny thing about them is that you can cut them apart and they always seem to come back. One cut makes Two. Two makes four. Four Makes Eight.

Both the same creature yet two totally separate entities.  Funny, how familiar that seems to most people. I seem to forget that it's so funny, but that was part of who I was way back when.

I drink to forget but I always remember.

Except now the booze is replaced by caffeine and I remember way too much. And my hands keep shaking as I type this, vicious fucking cycle. Remind you of anyone in particular?

So, heeding my friend's advice, there are three major players in this little... zoo that we call Jack's Happy Pen Pal Emporium. Bitch really knows how to pick her friends, you know?

I'll be honest, I don't hate them. But only one of them has actively tried to see me and I'm a stickler for the personal touch when it comes to people introducing themselves.

Jupiter. Nonchalant, bit whiny, but mostly level headed... God? Master of Time and Space?

Cass. Stoner. Very resolutely knowledgeable stoner stuck in his own cave.

And Seraph. The Infiltrator. Not a Saboteur. And seems like Jack's favorite.

The cavalcade of weird and somewhat useful Gentlemen. Remind me a bit of me...

Maybe in another lifetime, perhaps. Maybe if I hadn't decided to follow the Rabbit Hole a lot deeper than feasibly possible. Maybe I'm not really me, or maybe I am me and I'm part of something bigger.

To be honest, the thought of that makes me incredibly fucking pissed off. I've never been unsure of myself in all but one actualization. Tag. Me. Person. Somewhat dark and mysteriously shadowy fuck.

Paper pusher. Bastard of a somewhat notable accord. Guy who tends to yell at everybody while not understanding that it's actually counter-intuitive. Jack's best friend and confidant within the walls of Sanctuary.

Oh, you don't think I know about my universal perception as an asshole?

Fuck you, of course I know. Maybe I prefer it that way. Instead of feeling vulnerable and insecure day in and day out. I don't have to feel like I'm cutting myself apart just to come back stronger.

I'm not an earthworm. I'm a fucking Hydra. Problem is, like the old mythology goes, someone was smart enough to burn the candle at both ends.

Can't regrow my heads. Can't even bring myself to snarl at the dashing fucking hero anymore. My place is to sit here like a good guard dog and keep things running while Mama Hel is on her spiritual journey. And of course I'm going slightly mad without her biting back at me, because I do miss my best friend. And dare I say it, nothing feels right. Nothing seems right.

Nothing feels more wrong when you're a small worm in a big fucking river. And the one long standing rock drifts away with the rushing water.

Shadows can't be on a wall without their light. Otherwise they fade into the darkness.

Not feeling so dark at the moment either. It's growing smaller, fading to gray. And it feels awful.

Maybe I need a break...


- From the Desk of Section Chief Tag