Sam O. Bscure





Tonight you’re perfect, because we have more in common than you’d like to admit.

I can see it in the hollowness of your eyes, the all consuming void that’s steadily tearing away at your soul. It leaves you blank and without light. I’ve come to know it well.

I can see it in the way your smile drops, vanishing the moment they turn their back. It’s forced, that’s plain to see, and the effort is wearing on you. It’s okay, I share the same fatigue.

I can see it when you scratch at your wrists, tearing at your own skin, feeling betrayed because you’re so uncomfortable in it. Sometimes, it bleeds. And that’s terrifying, because it seems that nothing can protect you from yourself.

I can see it in the way you wander, lost. Not only now, not only here, but in every way. You’ve lost direction and hope. All of that withered away, and now you’ve just become an empty vessel that used to carry so much promise. I know, I’m just as empty as you.

I can see it in you, I can see you in me.
I can see what a mess you are, how broken you are.

But that’s alright with me, because tonight you’re perfect.

Vows From the Very Depths of Hell

unnamed (13)

Well, my good people, it is Wednesday.

Hump day, the halfway point, the day I’m supposed to have off of work but that was somehow forgotten by my manager. Thanks Barb, you’re a real pal.

In other news, my eldest brother is to be wed this upcoming Saturday to his betrothed. Oh, yes. How adorable. Flowers and sparkles and unicorns for all the children of the world.

Now, I’m not saying it won’t be great and touching and all that Hallmark card sappiness. I’m thrilled for both of them honestly. They’re great together, quite an ideal couple if I do say so myself (not that I would know much about that), it’s enough to make a puppy sick with the sweetness of it all.

So, what is it then that has ol’ Sam bitter? It is the fact that I despise social gatherings of the family nature on a hellishly fiery level. They are brutal. I’m sure you all can understand where I’m coming from. The weird uncle lurking in the corners, that aunt that feels the need to invade your personal space more than anyone ever should, and all other delightful members of a mildly to severely dysfunctional family unit.

As a bonus to this fantastic package, there is also the add on that my mother is the type of person who’s normal inside voice is the equivalent of any other person’s yelling and she thrives on conflict in a slightly twisted manner. Although she brings up quite frequently how much she despises it, it’s an even more common occurrence for her to be skipping and dancing her way around making uninvited entrances into every possible conversation whilst loudly expressing her opinion and slaughtering yours like an innocent baby lamb. It’s gruesome. My mother is that person that your mother always avoided at picnics and potlucks.

Love is a beautiful thing, let me tell you. Almost as beautiful as the fire that I will most certainly be setting ablaze this Saturday shall be.

A Symphony of Horrors, Garlic Breath, and a Hoodlum-Rebellious Teenager

classical music is

This weekend I was… fortunate… enough to attend a performance of St. Mathew’s Passion. If you aren’t familiar with this particular work, it’s often said to be Bach’s greatest work. Yes… Three hours of pure, brilliant Bach and his delightful work. It’s also often said that having the opportunity to see this performed is a once in a lifetime situation. And I completely agree with that.

Because there is absolutely nobody living on this planet who would attend it more than one time.

I’m feeling slightly guilty now, it’s nothing against Bach. He clearly was very talented. It’s nothing against the performers, they all did an amazing job as well. It’s not even anything against the fact that it was in German, which I do not understand at all. Well, maybe it was a little about that… But overall, the performance itself was great.

So what was the problem then? What is it that caused such bitterness? Well, my dearest ‘Sam’azing readers (Yes, I am quite clever. I know.), let me just tell you all about it…

At first, things didn’t seem so bad. I didn’t even have to wear a dress to this crazy thing. Although, in reality that’s not very surprising. In a town like this, where at least half of the population are what you could call ‘hicks’, it’s asking a lot to expect them to dress up that much.

But, nonetheless, I was feeling pretty positive about it. I wouldn’t go so far as  to say I was looking forward to it, but I at least thought I would manage to make it through without having any sort of psychotic meltdown.

As I was shoving my feet into my off-brand wannabe Keds that used to be white but had turned into what I like to call eggshell white in an attempt to sound sophisticated, I heard my mother screaming at me from upstairs that it was time to go. Looking down at the time on my phone, I raised my eyebrows and looked skeptically in the direction of my mother’s voice. It was only 6:00, the symphony didn’t start until 7. Why on earth did we need to be there an hour early?

When I walked up the stairs and expressed my opinion on this, very politely I might add (with an emphasis on the politely), my mother was far from impressed. Clearly, she knew something I didn’t. Although, I’m a teenager and I know everything. So, I have no idea why she would doubt me.

So, in the end, of course we left and arrived with exactly 57 minutes until this delightful, once-in-a-lifetime event would begin. We made our way up to our seats in the nosebleeds, cheapo section of course and there we waited.

With a heavy sigh, I threw myself down into my seat which looked deceivingly squishy but was, in fact, a lot like sitting on some rather uncomfortable boulders. Frowning, I spent at least ten minutes shifting and squirming to find a position that was at least manageable.

Finally giving up on the idea of comfort, I propped my feet up on the seats in front of me which were empty at the time. I then proceeded to crack my neck and back in a manner that probably made me appear to be possessed and created the sound effect of a machine gun. I saw multiple people duck for cover in a rather dramatic display.

It was at this moment, when I had also begun to chew the gum I forgot to spit out before coming, that I noticed a young guy heading up the stairs towards our row. He glanced down at the ticket he held in his hand, and then his focused shifted to the seat directly next to me. Making his way up the last few steps, he reached the row and walked to his seat. I’d like to say I was as smooth and clever as I am while writing this, but sadly this is not the case.

“Hi,” he said with a slight smile, as he lowered himself to sit beside me.

With my legs still resting on the seats in front of me, I began struggling to shift myself from my hoodlum-rebellious teenager position into something that had at least a hint of the maturity and sophistication that I promise I posses. Let me tell you, in those narrow rows, with your mother on your right and this rather attractive guy to your left, this is no easy task. I’m pretty sure he received a few kicks to the shins.

“Hi,” I answered, surprising myself when my voice came out clear instead of cracking like a 12 year old boy’s.

I think there was more conversation, but I can’t guarantee this and I certainly can’t recall it as my brain had turned to mush. Yes, I can indeed be quite the pathetic teen girl  at times. Oh, Sam…

What I do recall, however, is the other young man who took it upon himself to simply ruin what was sure to be a budding romance. From where he stood in an aisle way beneath our section, he called out incredibly loudly and dramatically to his friend; complete with arm waving, shouting, whistling, and even some jumping/prancing just to really make it clear.

In moments, the guy was rising from his seat, giving me a halfhearted wave, and walking away with his horrid friend. After glaring at them until they disappeared from my sight, I went back to my hoodlum-rebellious angst-filled teenager position.

While I was staring off into the distance, imagining what it would be like to be watching Netflix right now, another man began making his way up to our row. And I could tell instantly that he would be absolutely wonderful to spend three hours with.

“Man, it’s like climbing a mountain!” he shouted, out of breath and struggling to finish his  challenging voyage.

When he managedw to reach the summit, he waddled his way into the row and with an unnecessarily loud sigh plopped himself down next to me.

“It’s really quiet up here” he whispered, leaning uncomfortable close. Shifting away from his garlic breath, I gave him a nod and focused my attention on the hundreds of other people milling around who had suddenly become very interesting.

Oh, wow. Look at that guy. His face was contorted with a disgusted and pained expression as he attempted to squeeze his way past a somewhat chubby old man.

Hah, and that lady! The one who comes last and forces the entire row to stand while she shimmies her way all the way past all of them.

Ah, well that couple cuddling quite intensely in front of me is somewhat disturbing… I think we’re done people watching now.

By this time, I had lost all hope of a pleasant experience and Sir Garlicbreath certainly was not helping.

Now, believe me, I could go into much more detail about the next three hours. I mean, the actual show hasn’t even started yet.. But, I’m getting exhausted just writing this stuff. It’s like reliving it all for a second time.. Shudder…

And so, I shall leave you with that while I spend the next countless hours therapeutically watching Netflix (specifically Supernatural, of course) and overcoming this traumatic experience.

Some Love For Charlie

Just Fall by Anthem Lights

In her life, Charlie Speratis (the amazing artist for this blog) has been through so much loss and pain. More than anyone as young as she is should ever have to. The story is hers to tell, and not mine, so I won’t go into detail. But, for the majority of her years, she has had an extremely hard challenge to overcome, the loss of her mother,

For me, personally, I can’t even imagine what that would be like, how hard that would be. So, I’m not going to pretend to really understand.

And now, she has just been forced to face yet another loss of someone who was very close to her.

So, I’d just like to ask all of you to send your love, prayers, and support Charlie’s way.

We both appreciate it.

Sam vs. The Okay

It’s okay, you say. I don’t need their love, I don’t need their time. I’m fine, you say. I don’t need their support, I don’t need their shoulder to cry on.

It’s okay, you say. I don’t need them.

You’re hurting now, you feel more lost than you ever have before. You don’t sleep, you don’t eat, you can hardly even think. It’s all blank, there is no happiness. There is nothing.

It’s okay, you say. I don’t need help, I’ll make it on my own. I’m fine, you say. So what if I’m lost? I’ll figure it out some other day. I don’t care if my whole world is blank, at least now I don’t feel the pain.

It’s okay, you say. I don’t need them.

With each day that passes, you wander farther and farther, you become more and more lost. You travel deeper and deeper into the emptiness. You look into the mirror, but all you see is the hollowness behind your eyes. You don’t know who you are anymore, and you can’t remember who you used to be.

It’s okay, you say. But now it’s becoming more of a question. Am I okay? I thought I was strong, you say. I thought I could take it. You’re so broken now, how could you ever be fixed?

It’s not okay, you say.

No, it’s not okay.

art by Charlie Speratis
art by Charlie Speratis

Sam vs. The Blows

Sam O. Bscure words hurt

There’s no way I’m going to win this

No way this battle will be mine to claim.

So, go ahead

Tear me apart some more


Piece by piece

Break me, shatter me

Let all the shards fall to the floor


Tell me all the reasons I’m wrong

And when I swing back

Tell me again


Pin me down with one more hit

Hold me with your words

I’m prisoner to the venom you spit


You are that whisper inside

Reminding me of those past failures

all the times I tried


Blow by blow

you tear me down

Shut up, you say

no one wants to hear you now


I’m weak and fallen

That’s when you walk away

You turn your back

But expect that soon I’ll be calling


I sit alone in my prison

But not for long

I hold the key

And soon I’ll be gone


While your back is turned

That’s when I take my chance

I know my mistakes

But now I’ve learned


Now I’m strong

You told me all along

The things I’d never be

But you were wrong


You were wrong.



Sam vs. Those Nights

This one’s for the people who spend their nights wide awake long after the sky has gone dark and the rest of the world has slipped off into sleep. They were lucky, they managed to find their way to the escape of the dream world. They could close their eyes and leave behind this reality.

But not you. You’re still trapped, staring up at the ceiling wishing you could turn your thoughts off, or at least lower the volume. There’s no distractions now. It’s just you in the darkness, stuck with that part of you that you keep locked up during the day.

This is for the people who spend their nights wondering what it would feel like to have someone beside you. Those nights when you struggle to remember what it’s like to not be alone. It’s been so long, you can hardly see past the clouded darkness of your present to recall what it was like in your past.

This is for the people who spend their nights scrolling through contacts on their phone, searching for just one person who would listen. There could be countless names, and yet each one illuminated on your screen is just that. A name. You know there is no one to match it who would really be there for you. The relationship is hollow. You long for something more, but it seems like they all are more of an act than anything else.

This is for the people who spend their nights numbing the pain in any way they can, knowing that it will be back in just hours. You run as fast as you can, put as many barriers and walls as you can up around you. But, no matter what you do, it’s still there. Every time you glance over your shoulder, it seems to be getting closer and growing stronger.

This is for the people who spend their nights fighting for their lives against their own mind. You tell yourself all the reasons you can’t quit, all the things that are still left for you to live for. But, each night it sounds less like the truth and more like a rehearsed line.

This one’s for you. You who know what it’s like to have one of those nights.

You who know what it’s like to have one of those nights, and yet continue on into the next.

You continue on into the next because you know that no matter what, there will always be another day.

After every one of those nights, there will always be another day.

Sam vs. September


Do you remember September? It seems so long ago, more than just a few months. But, I remember. Do you?

That was when you made that mistake. The one that seemed to cause your whole world to shake and fall around you, the one that left you stranded and isolated from everyone you’d called your friends. They turned their backs on you, they whispered about you but not quiet enough that you didn’t hear. They wanted you to hear and they wanted you to hurt. It crushed you, and they got exactly what they wanted.

Do remember that before that, you hadn’t talked to me more than just an occasional ‘Hey, what’s up?’ for months? You didn’t care to hear the details about my life and you didn’t care to tell me the details of yours. But, suddenly you were alone. Suddenly, there was no one left except me.

That’s when you decided to come to me.

It bothered me that I was nothing more than your last resort, but despite that I still reached out to you. I still let you lean on me, cry on my shoulder. I still let you know that you could count on me, always.

I listened, I was always listening as you told me all about what happened. I was there as you poured out your pain to me. I had my own pain too, but I never told you. I tried, but you were so blinded and focused on your own that you really couldn’t see mine.

I’m not blaming you, I’m not accusing you of anything. There’s only so much pain that a person can handle at a time, and you couldn’t handle both of ours. I understand.

There was so much you didn’t know, so much I never told you. You didn’t know that I’d just made it through what was the most challenging summer of my life. You didn’t know that I’d completely lost touch with my reality, or that at the same time I was spinning out of control I was expected to make decisions that would change the rest of my life. You didn’t know just how much I hated myself, just how deeply I believed that I was hopeless. You didn’t know that there were so many days and nights when I was so close to giving up on it all.

At the same time that you were depending on me to hold you up, I was still struggling to climb out of my own pit.

Somehow, I managed though. Look at us now. You’re standing on your own feet again, and while I can’t deny the fact that lately I feel like you’re going back down the same path that started us on this in the first place, you still made it through.

And me? I’ve never felt as sure of where I’m going as I do now. That pit is still in my memory, but that’s all it is. A memory. Each day I can still remember what it feels like, but it doesn’t break me anymore. In the end, all it left me with is a strength that comes only from overcoming and defeating your darkness. And a sense of duty to every other person out there who is still struggling to find their own power.

So, in a weird way, thank you.

There’s only one thing I need to ask of you. Don’t forget September and everything it represents. Remember where you came from, remember who put you there, and remember who got you out.

I’m in no way saying that you owe me, you don’t. I’ll always hold you up and I will never expect anything from you. But, I just want you to remember what it feels like to have someone reach out for you. And I hope someday you’ll pass that on to someone else

Sam vs. Your Story

Yesterday, I made a post titled Sam vs. The Angels, if you haven’t read it you can here. I decided to do a follow up because that post was different from anything else I’ve written. It didn’t come from me, it wasn’t my story.

A few days ago, I received an email from someone who told me she had read one of my other posts, Sam vs. Pushing Back the Dark. She told me that one of her friends who she was very close to and who she thought she knew very well had recently committed suicide. She told me how this girl always seemed so happy, she always seemed to have it all together. None of them even thought for a second that she was struggling so much.

She told me that there were so many things that she wished she would have done, but now it was too late. Her friend was gone. She wished that she had taken the time to see the battle that her friend was struggling to fight. She wished she would have stepped up to join the fight and push back the dark.

At the end of the email, she asked me to do something. She asked me to write her friend’s story.

She didn’t want anyone else to feel as alone as she believed her friend must have and she trusted me to give her friend the voice she’d lost.

If there is one thing I want to do with my life, more than anything else, it’s to give what limited power I have to those who have none. I don’t just want to offer words of encouragement, I don’t just want to tell you that you aren’t alone, I don’t just want to be another bystander calling out to keep going, telling you not to give up.

I want to take your pain, and give you power in it’s place.

I know pain, I’ve spent enough time being victim to my own to know what it is.

But, that’s my pain. I know my pain, but I want to know yours.

So, tell me your story. Tell me about your broken heart, your shattered dreams, your crushed soul. Tell me what caused you to break, what hardened your heart. Tell me about your battle with the darkness.

And if you’ve lost your voice, if you can’t find the words to say, I will.

I will write your story.

Tell me yours:

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