The story you just clicked on was originally a short story I wrote for a friend of mine, when given the prompt "Real men don't run from their problems." She instructed me to keep it short and simple, 1,000 words or less, depicting why men are despicable creatures. As a man, she decided I must have the necessary insight *rolling eyes*. I originally planned to keep under her word limit, but I kept writing and writing and eventually when I rolled past 30,000 words, I figured I'd better just keep going anyway.

She loved it and begged me to put it up, so I will heed her wishes. The story is written already and finished, and in an effort to keep from feeling like I am "bombing you" with a massive document, I'm going to break it up into chapters I will post every couple of days or so when I find the time.

The name of the story is an adaptation of an album name of the band Coheed and Cambria, Year of the Black Rainbow, and I thought it fit the nature of this story quite nicely. It is a wonderful album.

Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly, I only own the plot holes and bad grammar.

Italics are journal entries, while regular text is storytelling.

…AD…

March 14th, 2022

Oklahoma City, Oklahoma

Personal Study

The beginning of the end…

I have forever pondered that phrase, and why so many people have coined it. It doesn't seem to inherently make sense, two adverse terms with opposite meanings in the same sentence to illustrate and signify what exactly? I always perceived the world simply, as either or, or black and white. Interpretations have no need in a society that functions on the simple ethos of "What's mine is mine, and what's yours will soon be mine."

All beginnings have an end, and all ends have a beginning, but between those two personifications, there is a journey that must be told, for it would make the beginning pointless, and the ending confusing. One would be undermining the most important part of a signifying accomplishment if they were to simply forget the journey, the trials and tribulations would be all for naught. Also, If one were to follow that logic, isn't all beginnings, the beginning of the end? This is why such a conundrum has formed within the confines of my mind.

From the time a baby is born into the world, it begins to die.

Why are we dying to live, when we are living to die?

A cynical point of view I realized, but it is what I have always believed. I've never really had a wonderful view of the world we live in, never has rose colored glasses perched on the bridge of my nose. The world has many untold wonders, and holds life that seems so scarce when you realize we are alone in this solar system. Why are we so special as to live and breathe on this planet, the one with the perfect atmosphere, when no other rock has that capability?

We have triumphed as race by simply existing, all other accomplishments are just icing on the proverbial cake. But yet even with the beauty of the world and its creatures, there is a dark in the light, and however small it is, it is perceived to be growing and growing, doomsday scenarios playing in the heads of the patrons of this world. I don't have sympathy for those who lurk in the shadows, fear-mongers that prey on the weak hearted. As I stated, I thought the world to be black and white, and interpretations are a simple waste of time. A person knows within mere milliseconds an answer to a life-altering question, and whether or not an event they see is right or wrong, but it is when a person thinks cognitively and effortfully, that is where he or she will start to interpret a grey area. It is human nature.

People can have their opinions and think the world is more than two sides, that the true nature of society is what isn't seen, the grey area that only makes the black and white seem more dull, but I always thought they were wrong, kidding themselves into believing in the good in human nature. The fact is we are all animals on this planet, just some of us have a larger brain and opposable thumbs.

I always believed that finding that magical "Silver lining" in an event was for those with a weak heart and no fortitude, and those who lacked might and girth. If you don't have the wherewithal and the "want to" to fight back against oppressors, and simply resign yourself to a lower status, then you deserve the admonishment you will receive, whether from yourself or by the society in a whole. If you were fired, you were fired. If you lost your life savings, you lost your life savings, and the only thing you could do at that point, was work your way up until you got back to where you wanted to be, or beyond.

No one is out there to do you any favors in life, I believed, and that there is no such thing as altruism. An altruistic personality is a figment of the collected imaginations of wide-eyed wonderers who see the good in the world, and ignore the wretched underbelly of society. People who help another in a crisis, is ultimately only looking out for themselves, expecting you to reward them handsomely for their deed. It is a logic argument if anything else, why should I risk everything of mine for everything of yours, when you are a perfect stranger to me? You have to look out for yourself in this world, or no one will.

This was my philosophy as a young man, and I believed that anyone else who believed otherwise, was doomed to failure in life, becoming a burden on family and friends, and society as a whole. To hell with social creatures, man was meant to toil away alone, as the superior animals on this magnificent rock, trying to perfect his way of living to the precipice of utter happiness. If a man was happy with his family and friends surrounding him, let him whither under his unused ambition, while the man with boundless ambition, soars over society and rule it with an iron fist.

The cream will rise to the top, and the perfect creatures will lead the way. A perfect creature has no need of others, only those that could help him succeed and fulfill his destiny.

Ah, but as times change, people must evolve, or they will be doomed to extinction.

I see now in my advanced years, sitting in this dimly lit room for which I am writing this, that my headstrong and stubborn ways as a young man was ultimately leading me down the path of a hermit. I may believe that I needn't anyone else to make myself happy, but I was living the lie that perpetrated my youth. Humans are social creatures, and only when a person creates a bond so strong that they physically feel ill when the other doesn't reciprocate their affections, can one feel pure anguish and sorrow, and only when a person creates a bond so strong that is reciprocated, can a person feel the purest form of elation and euphoria.

You must not be afraid to express your emotion and feelings, for life is bleak and desolate without that basic function of human nature. As your heart opens, it begins to let in every emotion a human can feel, even the emotions that wish you had not known existed. Dread, doubt, sorrow, sadness, greed and all other dower synonyms one can think up. That is the necessary opportunity cost if a person wishes to be complete. Does the good outweigh the bad? Only a single person can make that distinction, and I believe it does, after living on this earth as long as I have. I only wish I had realized this fact sooner, for maybe my life would have turned out differently than it had.

And as for the presence of altruism? I'm still not quite sure. I have seen horrors in my life that I cannot wipe from my mind: innocent people dying, homes burning, shells ripping apart thriving communities while the citizens run for their very lives, and terror on unprecedented scales. Burning flesh is a smell you can never get used to, or wipe from the confines of your mind. But this is the natural recourse of my chosen life. A military man is unlike any other.

But that is not to say I have seen only horrors in my life. I've seen random acts of kindness, good Samaritans, people helping people in the wake of atrocities. I've seen a man jump on top of a grenade to save his platoon. Is he not the purest form of altruism? Was he thinking of himself when he gave his life to save the men he served with? No one can ask him now, but you will be hard pressed to find even the most hardcore cynic out there, saying that he was.

All I know on the topic is, whether or not it truly exists or not, I sure hope it does.

But as much as my views on life have changed from childhood to adulthood, I still cannot bring myself to believe that society and people are as righteous as ideological children and young adults believe it to be. I have the burden of knowledge, and the burden of experience to believe such philosophies. Maybe the younger generation can begin to change this, but I believe it will be too much of an uphill battle, and they will ultimately fall prey to what all previous generations of humans have, to violence and death, the vicious cycle inherent in life. But I hope I am wrong.

Now I fear I have begun to ramble, but self-reflection is all a man like me has at this point in his life. I feel I lived a good life, full of trials and tribulations I faced head on, and emerged victorious. I have ascended the steps in life, rushing forward brazenly without another thought like a headstrong young man does, without fearing another person or situation. As long as I had my strength and will to fight, I would not fail, and above all else, I would never back down. I didn't make it a habit to regret anything in my life, for I felt it was part of the journey.

But… I am not a perfect being, for no one to grace this earth is or was. I do have a regret in my life, one so large and massive that it threatened to consume my very self when I was younger, and even today as an old man. It is something I can't help but think of every waking day of my life, and it wracks me with so much guilt and despair that sometimes I feel sick to my stomach. Just thinking about it, I feel the guilt right now rattling around in my bones.

That day and decision I regret, was the first and only time I can remember feeling true terror and distress. Only one time did I feel fear. It wasn't from the countless muzzles of rifles I've seen pointed at me, live grenades I've had to kick out of range, or landing in countries with names that are illegal for me to say aloud. No, it was the day I decided to run, and keep running until the tears stopped and the weight of the world fell on top of me.

I have done something so despicable that I feel even this inanimate journal I scribble my thoughts into, will judge me. I can no longer hide this bitter fact of my life, can no longer tuck it into the back of my mind and pretend to be the same old Dan Puckett I always was. Yes, I have amassed wealth and an army of loyal friends, but I had to do it at the expense of the one thing I don't have. I sacrificed the one thing many men in this world would give everything they had to protect and care for, and I trivially threw it all away.

A family.

I ran at the prospect, backed down in the face of it. I always prided myself on my ability to fight, anyone and anything, but yet at the crossroads of my young life, when my fight or flight responders kicked into gear, I decided to run for fear of what a family might do to my life.

And now, I am on an inevitable crash course with my destiny. I am not long for this world. Even now, after writing these reflections, my hand has started to shake and I feel the need to lie down, but I must finish this entry. The body is weak, but the soul is willing, and therefore I will find the necessary strength to complete this expedition. It has been what my entire life has been leading up to, what I will die doing if so be my fate.

So I mark this day in my personal history, March 14th, 2022, sitting in this dark room of my house, on the doorstep of Spring, the day I officially begin my journey, the one I should I have done earlier in my life, the one that I shouldn't have to do if not for my own selfishness and fear. Once I finish my preparations, I will embark on the journey to traverse this great country, searching for what I am almost certain I will not be able to find.

I have to find my daughters.

…AD…

That is the prologue. I understand if some believe that Mr. Puckett should not be so philosophical, but that was the characterization that came out of my writing. And since there is no Mr. Puckett in the iCarly universe, I guess I have free reign huh?

Please give feedback, if you would be so kind