The Great Beyond… (1-24) – Commentary

The Great Beyond is the benediction for Cycle I.

It’s the moment where I stop poking, stop shitposting, stop dissecting, and just say:

“These are my words; these are my arrangements.”

It’s a small, quiet flex:

  • I did this on purpose.
  • I survived enough to write it.
  • I’m offering it to you as more than just entertainment.

“These are my words; these are my arrangements.”

That opening isn’t filler.

It’s:

  • ownership,
  • authorship,
  • and a little bit of defiance.

“These are echoes of what once was and how it has become.”

That’s the entire Cycle I arc:

  • things I’ve lived,
  • things I’ve broken,
  • things I’ve outgrown,
  • rearranged into something you can hold.

“I’m graced with acceptance through perseverance.”

That’s not spiritual; that’s practical:

  • I kept going.
  • I stayed in the lifestyle.
  • I stayed in the online kink scene.
  • I kept writing even when it was dry, empty, or thankless.

The “acceptance” is:

  • my own self-acceptance first,
  • whatever community resonance came second.

An offering, not a sermon

“This is my offering to those that seek more than they have.

What you take from this is my gift to you and you alone.”

That’s the core of how I see this entire project.

I’m not saying:

  • “Listen to me, I know better.”

I’m saying:

  • “Here’s what I’ve seen and survived.
  • If it helps you name something, it’s yours now.”

That framing:

  • respects the reader’s agency,
  • doesn’t demand agreement,
  • doesn’t try to lock anyone into my worldview.

You get to:

  • pick a line,
  • throw the rest away,
  • and still be “right” for your life.

No one honest will promise you tomorrow

“No one honest will promise you tomorrow, but they are able to give all that has come before.”

That’s me drawing a line between promises and testimony.

I can’t promise you how your story will unfold here —
who stays, who leaves, who breaks your heart, who helps you heal.

What I can offer is everything I’ve already walked through:

  • what I’ve done,
  • what I’ve learned,
  • where I’ve slipped,
  • what I feel.

If someone is promising a guaranteed future like they can see the whole script?

They’re either lying to you,
or lying to themselves.

I’m not doing either here.

Bees, m0lds, and glitch-language

“Mistakes were made, but there always will Bee.”

The Bee is a little wink:

  • playful typo,
  • hint at ongoing motion and work,
  • reminder that mistakes are not an exception, they’re constant background noise.

Then:

“Be different. Be strange. Never fit inside the

m0ld.”

The line break and the 0 in “m0ld” matter.

It’s me saying:

  • “Yes, we’re talking about kink, about not fitting in vanilla norms, about being a little broken and a little weird, on purpose.”
  • “The mold was never built for you; stop trying to pour yourself into it.”

It’s not an edgy “be a special snowflake” thing.

It’s:

  • if you’re here, reading this kind of writing, in this kind of space,
  • you probably already know you don’t fit.

I’m just blessing that instead of pathologizing it.

Life, lives, and love

“Life means everything; live as many different 1s as you can.”

That “1s” is doing triple duty:

  • lives,
  • selves,
  • versions.

The line says:

  • You get more than one life inside this life:
    • different dynamics,
    • different loves,
    • different roles,
    • different scenes.

You don’t have to:

  • get it right on the first try,
  • stay in the first box you picked,
  • or let your mistakes freeze you forever.

Then:

“Love like it’s the only thing that matters, because it always will be.”

That’s me dropping the mask for a second.

Under kink, power, control, dynamics, marketing, content, life, all of it —

what sticks is:

  • who you loved,
  • how you loved,
  • and whether you were brave enough to love like it mattered.

Even when it didn’t last.

Even when it hurt.

“Every new beginning…”

“when you understand that every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end, you will know that you are blessed and the next song is about to start.”

That line is the bridge between:

  • endings in life,
  • endings in relationships,
  • endings in Cycles / seasons,

and

  • the next kink,
  • the next connection,
  • the next self-version.

It’s me saying:

  • you will lose things,
  • you will outgrow people and roles,
  • you will have doors slammed and dynamics crash,

and that is where the next thing gets room to exist.

It’s grief and blessing in the same sentence.

The only way I survive this

“The only way I can survive this life is to always be listening for the next song, even if I can never forget the last one.”

That’s the most honest line in the piece.

Because if you stay in:

  • kink,
  • public writing,
  • online dynamics,
  • sex,
  • power exchange

long enough, you collect:

  • ghosts,
  • regrets,
  • “what if”s,
  • people you can’t fully delete.

For me, survival looks like:

  • letting the last song stay in my memory,
  • not pretending it didn’t happen,
  • and still being willing to put on headphones for the next track.

That’s:

  • new work,
  • new connections,
  • new versions of you and me,

even with the old ones still echoing.

On the companion track: “The Great Beyond” – R.E.M.

I pulled this line in:

“I’ve watched the stars fall silent from your eyes, all the sights that I have seen…”

That lyric lives in the same place as this post:

  • worn-out hope,
  • stubborn faith,
  • cosmic exhaustion,
  • and still choosing to move.

“The Great Beyond” is:

  • wistful,
  • a little surreal,
  • grounded in that “I’ve seen too much and I’m still here” energy.

Paired with this piece, it turns the whole thing into:

a closing-credits track for Cycle I —

not “happily ever after,”

but “to be continued, and I’m not done yet.”

Cycle I – Coming on Strong · 24 · Commentary (v1.00)

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