Jasper Blackwood
Bio
Married and grounded in love. Investigative journalist driven by truth, not trends. I mentor, lead, and confront systems—not symptoms. Tension sparks action. Injustice fuels purpose. Believe. Act. Change.
Stories (20)
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Power Comes with a Price . Content Warning.
By Jasper Blackwood I take a good look at my life, and I see the curse that plagues me, yup yup yup! Don't get it wrong, this curse is not bad. This curse sets me apart from everyone else. I remember this one time Mr. Blackwood once said, Oh no, here they come again... Perhaps if I just close my eyes, all of this will go away. At the time, we laughed, but that was not my intention. My intention was deeper than that. I was dealing with those who were stuck in a reality that doesn't exist apart from themselves. If you still follow, then you are my people. And I will show you where we come from. For those who do not follow, no worries, your time to come is not as you are now, but what you will become after, " US."
By Jasper Blackwood9 months ago in Confessions
Through the Smoke. Content Warning.
AND THROUGH THE SMOKE I REACH OUT TO SLAP YOU WITH MY HAND! And mine aren’t filthy! I want to share some of the contexts in my writing, mainly to help you understand how I interpret my experiences without exposing anyone. I want you, as the reader, to feel the emotion I am trying to convey. At that time, I felt an amazing sensation-yes, RAGE- RAGE-that gave me a thirst for blood, especially toward this individual. However, I used this rage to fuel my success, teaching me which path not to take. I choose to use my mind instead of succumbing to ignorance. Throughout my writing, you will start to see the back stories surface. And at that moment in time I was in a place amoungst other individuals and most of them I've personally studied with and read a great deal of books. One of those persons introduced me to a poem that was written by a fellow.
By Jasper Blackwood9 months ago in Criminal
Where the Cold Warms Me. Content Warning.
JOURNAL ENTRY | " Devastated" People ask me sometimes how I'm feeling. And when I say " devastated ", they think it's too much too dramatic. But it's not. I say " devastated " because I lived more than I can explain. I have PTSD, sure, but it's deeper than that. What I feel is like post-secondary trauma- Pain that echoes long after the wound. Pain that just shows up because I'm awake. Pain that lingers in the fact that I'm still conscious. It's not physical. It's something colder. Sometimes I wake up and feel like I'm buried. Not in a coffin- But in the dirt. And I can taste the soil. I can smell the earth like it's been packed into my lungs. I feel like I've died. And something disturbed me. And now I'm awake- but not at peace.So I go outside into the cold and let the chill hit me, because sometimes that coldness feels like the only honest thing. And as I stand there, freezing, something strange happens- I warm up.It's not suicidal.It's not hopelessness.It's a longing. Grief for peace! And it doesn't just go away just because the sun comes up.I'm not saying it because this is so someone can worry about me. No not at all! This journal is where I can breathe out.
By Jasper Blackwood9 months ago in Writers
