The headstone might say beloved son—which would be exaggerating it a bit too much—but look for a body and you won’t find it. Reports state that a man by the name of Kieran disappeared at sea and was never recovered. Months passed, a year went by, and he was officially declared dead. An empty grave was put up in memoriam. The ones he called his friends were saddened; they held one hell of a 4:20 party in celebration of his life. His so-called family acted like they cared; they visited his mother and grieved with her, but secretly rejoiced that the son-of-a-bitch was out of their lives for good.

And maybe the truth just isn’t as simple as it sounds on paper.

See, Kieran isn’t dead. He might’ve died—numerous times matter of fact—but the guys still around. He doesn’t let his family know though, and some (very few), of his closest friends from his ‘previous’ life know his little secret, but most people he hangs with these days are ones he’s met his ‘new’ life. Or should he make that lives?

And maybe when he's bored he likes to go out and show off his ability to complete strangers.

No, Kieran’s grave is an empty one. How do I know this? Because he’s talking to you right now.

COUNT: 215

Imagine being in a open field with distant trees surrounding your view, and in your hand is a stick of dynamite. You know what’ll happen if you light it, the damage it can cause, and that excites you more. You have no idea how you obtained it but that doesn’t matter now, what’s important is that it’s yours. That anxious fever burns in your body, pressuring you into lighting the wick. “Do it, do it,” a voice says and sure enough, you’re now holding a lit stick of TNT.

Curiosity burning, a devilish smile on your face, instead of throwing it off in the distance, you decide to keep holding the thing. The wick grows smaller, the flame closer, you continue the countdown. “3, 2 1…”

But nothing happens.

Seconds pass. The wick is gone, the flame dispersed, but the dynamite hasn’t gone off. What’s the deal?!

You bring it closer to your face for some inspection, wondering why you’ve been given a dud. And then BOOM!

There’s a quick flash of light that temporary blinds you and a wave of heat that swallows your entire face. That heat soon turns into burning and just as you’re about to black out you hear yourself say, “Is someone having a BBQ?”

Unfortunately, most people would be buried six feet under after the ordeal or live with one messed up face for the rest of their lives, but I’m not like most people. Only damage I received was mental distress; and I’ve already got plenty of that.

COUNT: 252

Oh, I’m all about the clichés. I like plaid and band buttons so that must mean I’m punk. “Down with society! Fuck the system!”

But I also like dying my hair black, so that means I’m obviously emo now. “I hate life! Woe is me! I should kill myself, but I don’t because I like wallowing in my own agony to get attention.”

I’m Irish so that means I like to get shit-faced drunk and pick fights, but I’m also Italian so beware, cause I have a temper and my family is involved with the Mafia. On both sides!

I live in Orange County so that means I’m rich and a prude. I enjoy going down to Newport Beach in my thirty billion dollar yacht and showing just how much better I am than you.

I play guitar, which automatically means I’m a struggling artist who despises the idea of working an office job and would rather starve. This, despite all my previous bullshitting, is actually the one thing I said that is true about me.

COUNT: 176

I’m far from normal. Call me a weirdo, call me a freak, I’ve heard it all. Even been told I’m a monster and I guess that applies as well; I’m more human than what’s considered human anyway. But I’m not the bad guy; I haven’t even killed anyone—other than myself—or planned world domination, so stop making a big deal out of it when you know I’m not a threat to your health. Physically no, but mentally… maybe.

I’ve been known to piss off more than one person. Been involved in a good amount of fights cause I rubbed someone’s ego the wrong way and they didn’t like what I had to say. I’d hardly say that’s abnormal. But when you pick yourself up off the ground after being covered in your own blood from falling several stories off the ground and realize you have a small group of people watching the whole thing, then yeah, that might cause people to rethink your existence, if not their own frame of mind.

Oh, and if you haven’t guessed already, I might just be a little bit insane.

COUNT: 184