lifeofadying
Hello, I go by Corey Rhodes. Several years ago I was experiencing many mental issues in my life. To cope, I started writing and producing content as an outlet to deal with everything that was going on. Over time I decided to open a blog and release what I was experiencing hoping that others would relate to what I was going through. Now, I release several things such as short stories, poetry, photography, and drawings and so much more. The world is a scary place and I aim to help others to gain a realization that mental illness effects more people than you think.
Entry 1 - Life of a Dying Poet. Have you ever been afraid of the dark?
I do believe I have. And not just when I was a child I believe everybody is afraid at one point or another. Imagine this–I’m sure this is happened to you before– Its when you’re watching a scary movie and the director puts on his intense suspenseful music and you start to feel afraid you don’t know what that fear is towards but it’s obviously directed towards something that happened in the movie. You hear screeching violins that are quite slow then moves to a more and more intense pitch that you know that something is just around the corner. So you tell yourself to continue but you don’t want to go through with it.
If we know that nothing is around the corner then why do we always think there is something on the other side? Whenever I turn off lights, which puts me into total darkness, the second that no light is around me I feel engulfed. Comeback. Fire Inside. The Loss. Upstanding Citizen. Where the Sky Shudders - Life of a Dying Poet. I am the all-seeing eye.
Peering into universes aplenty. I look for one thing and one thing only, but my gaze has returned to familiar place. My creators home. Looking into my universe on my home planet I look to where my creator was born. The Rockford Military Research Base. “General Rockford. “I’m prepared to be amazed Dr. “We did General. The room was simple. On the visitors side the doctor pressed a button on the glass wall and said that they can enter the room. “So, we have encountered a snag on our first project. “Then where do they go?” “We do not know but they definitely go somewhere.” “This is hardly a productive use of your time doctor,” the General said disappointingly. “Sir. The leash was still on our side and after a few minutes the man holding the leash began to tug on the leash trying to get the small dog back to them. After a while another man began to tug on the leash and the third man chipped in and tried to get the dog back through their side.
“What is it?” Basic Fear Camp - Life of a Dying Poet. I open my eyes to see the reality before me blend into one flamboyant mess of colors that are just an extension of oneself.
There are no details. I look around me trying to figure out what the colors mean I see tans and greens and blues. Everything around me is set up I feel I am on a grassy field by a large body of water, but everything is just blending in with no fine detail. No specific shapes. With an untrained eye one might say that this was just a mess but someone who truely understood art would say I was living in a masterpiece of color. I was dreaming, and I can make the dream go in any direction now I realized where I was. Gasping for air I realized that I was on my school campus and the lifeguard on duty had seen me drowning. “Are you alright Sarah?” Lost War Heroes - Life of a Dying Poet. Lost War Heroes - Life of a Dying Poet. Luck and Faith - Life of a Dying Poet.
Promise - Life of a Dying Poet. Oceana - Life of a Dying Poet. This Fire - Life of a Dying Poet. Tracks Are Followed - Life of a Dying Poet. The Flavor Of The Weak - Life of a Dying Poet. Upstanding Citizen - Life of a Dying Poet. The Fate - Life of a Dying Poet. The Crucible Part I - Life of a Dying Poet. Edited by Stephanie Bachman The day starts just like every other, you wake up but today was different.
Looking at the clock it was 6:14, thirty minutes before my alarm goes off and unlike the days in the past, we were sweating. This wasn’t normal for previous days, we’ve never felt the experience of sweating. I thought that I have done something wrong for this was not normal in our life, this was not acceptable. Trapped in my mind we–my body and my mind–remembered the same dream I always have of a sky falling down, collapsing underneath its own weight as color left the world around me but this was only a dream. We’ve never done anything with the extra time in the morning, we’ve always been too tired. Taking a step out of our bedroom My body takes a long look to the right at a mystery room down the hall in which I’ve never seen inside since this loop started. A red convertible drives by us on the street and we turn around to look at the car, the license plate reads; lookout. “Hey! Baba Yaga - Life of a Dying Poet. I’m here to kill someone.
Someone who, in turn, killed my wife. My children. I’ve been looking around the globe for this killer and at last I think I found her. There was a safehouse, just outside of the city. Me and the local authorities raided it under good suspicion that people were there. She stopped crying but continued to cover her face. Toxic - Life of a Dying Poet. Leak 2/10/20 - Life of a Dying Poet. Cure to Depression, Mental illness & Anxiety.