Recalcitrant: Stubbornly resistant to authority or control
I’m a run-on sentence, which means that if I don’t create new words, I’ll eventually stop, but, grammatically, I’m the worst enemy of every high school teacher and the demise of every university student, and by all means, despite how tiring it might be to have a person read me with all of the haughtily placed punctuations to continue my existence, I am grateful that I can exist as an entity, after all, run-on sentences aren’t always the enemy to all literary mankind, no, there are many instances where a run-on sentence can be quite useful, for example, if one were to need to indicate a stream of consciousness then of course a run-on sentence would be used since a stream of consciousness is just that a stream of consciousness and nothing more nothing less it’s a collection of words and things that come together to try and string a cohesive thought and nothing less raw and more stringent can perfectly encapsulate what it is to be a human than the chaos and rush of a run-on sentence so much so that if I were to ever find myself in the bounds of a period I would hate it to the point or rebelling against the one who created me.
Obfuscate: Make obscure or unclear
What did he say? You don’t know? Why don’t you know? You can’t say? Is it good? Or is it bad? You don’t know? Well, is it good in terms of the situation? Good? Then that’s good. But it still isn’t that good, right? I guess not. It’s pretty bad then, if he can’t stand up. His legs? Oh yeah…And his arms too right? I don’t know, it was pretty dark out. Lights? Out. Twenty, twenty five, yeah, something like that. Drunk? Not really, it was a hour on the dot, I watched the hand. Yeah, the other man bit the dust. He was going fifty-five, drunk as all hell. To the left, we dodged a bullet but ate a rock. It’s fine, no need, you said it’s good right? Yeah, I mean, we probably don’t need to worry about that. I contacted them, they’re more worried about this than the war. I know, thank god. Do you know when he’ll be able to move? I guess not.
Noetic: Of or associated with or requiring the use of the mind
Do you know why gods exist? What do you mean? I mean why religion exists, why we create gods and why we choose to believe in them. I’ve never been one for religion, so I can’t really say. Well, let me tell you something then. Gods exist because we exist, sound simple enough? Yeah, I’d say that’s common sense. Well, then how about this, god exists because we require someone to lead us. Okay, I mean that also makes sense. Now consider this, god exists because we not only require someone to lead us, we require someone to give us faith. Sure, faith is a good thing. Right, faith is a really good thing, but why god? Why god? Yeah, why did we go towards a being that we can’t see or feel, a being that is magical, and not something normal? Normal? Yeah, like crops, or animals. Crops and animals are part of religious ceremony yes, but gods are always attached. Exactly, we give our offerings, we give what we make to people who we create in our heads. Well, it’s not like we give a lot. You’re right, we only offer a little of what we make so that we can survive, but let me ask you one more thing. Okay. If there was a god, then why hasn’t he shown us any appreciation? Well, that’s just semantics. For all we know, our gods are our kings, presidents and queens, and yet we treat them as poorly as we do our criminals. I mean, that’s an exaggeration. It’s not an exaggeration when we can barely stand who rules over us, our bosses, our parents, is it not the same?
Niggle: Worry unnecessarily or excessively
Am I going to pass? Am I working hard enough? Am I pretty enough? Am I good enough? Am I going to have a future? Am I going to find love? Am I going to be able to find something that I want to do? Do I have enough money? Do I have enough friends? Do I have enough passion? Do I have enough socks? Do I have enough clothes? Do I have enough sleep? Do I have enough worries in my life? Do I have enough paper? Do I have enough medicine? Should I try harder? Should I wear something longer? Should I cut my hair? Should I go out? Should I try and find love? Should I ask for help? Should I show my emotions? Should I stay in? Should I tell him? How can I improve? How can I get more sleep? How can I get better marks? How can I overwork myself to death? How can I find something I love? How can I find someone I love? How can I lose sleep? How can I break myself? How can I take my life and turn it into brittle glass? How can I lose my depression?
Malaise: A general feeling of discomfort, uneasiness, or depression
My hands became dark. My legs became dark. My eyes exerted nothing but darkness. The world around me was darkness. The sounds that tried to enter my hears turned into darkness. It was strange hearing darkness. But the best way I can explain what hearing darkness was, was that it was a little less than the sound of T.V static, but a little more than the pounding of my heart. The darkness reverberating the more I tried to concentrate. It began pounding in my dark chest, pounding and pounding until I could feel my guts and my ribs proceed my body. My blood was dark. My bones were dark. My heart was dark. I tried to grasp onto that darkened feeling inside of me, but it only slipped out of my dark fingers. My world was dark.
Lackadaisical: Lacking enthusiasm and determination; carelessly lazy
I sat watching as the end of the world heralded a new beginning. Everything was in flames while I sat miles away in a place unreachable by those flames. Everything was coming to an end before me, and yet that thought gave me immeasurable apathy. I saw to it that everything about this world would burn up to ash and everything new would be born from those ashes. However, if I continued to stay where I was, watching as the world burned away before me in my own enclave, that resurrection would never occur. The world needed me to burn with it, the world needed me to be a part of that blazing glory. I didn’t care for the world. And so the world around me will continue to burn and light aflame, and the ashes that remain, will be left for the elements.
Lachrymose: Showing Sorrow
I paraded around the perimeter of the group all dressed in black. I knew each and every face that stood there solemnly staring into the ground beneath them. Even if I was in front of them, loosely above them, they showed no heed. I hovered in their faces, blew wind on their arms, and grabbed their sleeves only to have them ignore me. They were in complete contemplation. I wondered who it was that made them greave so strongly, and so I looked down into the hole. It was a sight to behold for me once I had realized who I was looking at. He was a man who could recognize each and every face of his friends. A man who showed no greater amount of loyalty to any of his friends. He was a man who died in the line of fire, and a man who will not be forgotten by those who followed him. I understood why every single person was in complete contemplation over the loss that they suffered. They were all the same.
Knell: The sound of a bell rung slowly to announce a death
I swept the leaves from the ground as the cold morning mimicked night. The dawn of the day grew tiresome on me as did the lull of the area around me. Not a single soul for as far as I can see, and the only thing to keep me company were the gray slabs strutting from the ground, seeming to want to reach the sky, but unable to escape its entrapment. I wondered how long it would have taken me to be among them, to be buried in these god forsaken grounds. I hoped to no god that this area would remain solemn and unsullied such that my task would only be to sweep away these leaves. However, every once in a while I see vandals. And every once in a while I hear that dastardly bell ring in the distance. It beckons to misanthropic ghouls and demons to take away those that disturb the peace of the dead. Or so, that’s what they say. It’s an urban legend, something to keep my job, and whoever else who so chooses this job, much, much easier. Sometimes I wonder if the quiet whistle of the wind really is just my own sanity slipping from me. And sometimes when I hear the bell, I wonder if it is my time to rest, or if it is just simply a blissful lie.
Junta: A group of officers who rule a country after seizing power
Do you know how this country came to be? I was asked by a man by the other side of the fire. We were warming ourselves up out of the rain that was raging on from out the cave. We were lucky that it was raining or we would have been snuffed out. I had met the man sometime in my travels when I was running from the officials of the Court Guards. They caught me red-handed in the middle of a job. Well, not really caught since I’m still here, but you get the gist of it. I had no care for the history of this country, but I figured having conversation by a roasting flame in a cave wouldn’t be so bad. I indulged in his tale. This country is ruled by three factions, as you know, he began. The Saints, The Angel’s Archers, and The Court Guards. The Saints rule the land’s political affairs, while The Angel’s Archers rule the land’s international affairs, and The Court Guards make sure that the land from within is civil. They say that the three original rulers of those factions came about one day to overthrow the previous king and set up this system. How about it? Interesting stuff huh? I simply laughed and told him I had no interest in such trivialities. I shrugged and said that all I wanted to do was live. I had no care for this country’s happenings. I barely had enough to care for my own. This country could go to hell for all I cared. The flame was beginning to wane, and so I stoked it with the remaining bundle of wood I gathered. It was going to be a long night, and sometime in that night, I begrudgingly dreamt of the tale that man told me.
Ignominious: Deserving or bringing disgrace or shame
The guards turned back to switch duties, and that was the time I needed to creep up and sneak into their settlement. They broke down old train cars and fashioned them as their homes. It sounded like a good idea up until the point when the train cars stopped extending. Their bases were small because of that, but they ruled the tunnels. I didn’t have a good map of the tunnels, but I knew that no one else did as well. The tunnels belonged to the Sewer Rats, and if people knew where they were then they wouldn’t have victims to scavenge. I’m still surprised how they even managed to stay down here, or the fact that they still try to impose their ideals on opposing factions. They garnered the name of Sewer Rats, and yet they still think themselves as the same as the rest of us. Even the Flesh Eaters are much better than them. They are a poor excuse for a faction, a poor excuse for the rest of us. Most of them were asleep or lounging about when I crept up over them. I made sure to stay in the train cars as I moved across. All I needed was to make my way through the tunnel and find a neutral settlement. I had no business in fighting the Sewer Rats. I didn’t know how long the cars were, but I began listening to their banter as it echoed in the tunnel. They were talking about raiding a nearby settlement for resources, and hopefully finding another train car that they said should be around here. I didn’t know if that meant that I’d have to go even further to avoid them, but I kept that information in mind. I noticed two lights at the end of the train car and another guard standing guard looking into the tunnel. I had found my exit. I posted up on the train car’s last door and listened. There were too many right now to make any move, and so I waited. Except, I waited too long. I dozed off before I knew it if only for a few minutes, but still. Some guards were moving into the train car to switch shifts. If I had known, I would have readjusted. Now, it’s time to fight. Where I come from, fighting is a last resort. I hope they don’t live long enough to hear about this.