Feeding the Aug of War- A Comedic Relief and Moment to Speak Openly

*crunches biscuit in mouth*

.....hmmmmmmm.......the hardest part about keeping track of calories is that you have to jump through hoops to find the information. I mean, seriously. They have the caloric information of semen (5-25 calories), but not what I need! Geesh....whose job was it to to that experiment. Hell, who has to clean out that bomb calorimeter?

Fuck.....*looks at box of biscuits while chewing* I might have to stop eating these.....

***

Um......hey, hi..........um I wanted to take a moment and thank you for reading this. It's honestly been to damn long since I written anything and getting back in the stride of things can be....awkward. This is also awkward. The fact that I'm actually speaking to you rather me going on a rant much like the poor guy on the corner near me babbling away on what what and that that. 

Yea, but I kind of wanted to take a second to say a few things if only for my own sanity considering that one, people actually read this. Two, I'm actually getting views from Germany, France and South Korea, I kind of wanted to apologize to you all for actually reading my insanity and to remind you, you know the Internet has porn. Seriously, porn. I would almost feel more comfortable if you went for porn rather then read my insanely stupid thoughts. Like, seriously.....porn.....no? Ok.....

More importantly, three, I want to say thanks for just reading. Writing is kind of my way to vent and play with thoughts that just bounce around in my head and keep me from sleeping, so the fact that any of you read this really makes me feel ....um...I'm not sure......valued? I would not mind comments either. I'm really not too big on interaction, but considering that you've all read my oddness I kind of feel a bit more braver with whatever I'm saying. 

Shoot, I would mind positive critique. Or even interaction, he says now somehow realizing he really has no idea how he will respond outside of hiding in a blanket and  staring at the screen. I kind of use my writing to lash out, but I want to use it to create also. I'm trying to get my humor back, I realize that writing has to be practiced by doing and if I get any positive response I'm quite willing to do more. 

Just not, "you suck" or anything negative. I actually want my writing to be snark free so I want to have a kind relationship with you good people if any. I'm more then used to debate, bullying, and just unimaginitive mockery. I guess what I'm trying to say if you make contact I'll try to please. Or if you can mention if you like something I'll try to do that more. 

Am I making any sense? No, Ok.....just being silly stupid nervous. 

Ha ha....ok, but thanks for the time your can honestly be spending looking at pornography.....they have on top AND on bottom you know! Even *looks around the room then whispers* girls that kiss girls......I know! Right? Internets is wild! Oh my, I'm getting the vapors....I need to sit and fan myself before I swoon.....ha ha...

Ok, Peace and Love.

Be kind to each other.

*pulls another one out and starts to crunch on it*

....one day.....just not today....

*puts down the box with the most adorable golden retriever on the front, still chewing*

Shower Epiphany: Trigger moments, Secret Wars, and Why You Bury your Dead

Shower Epiphany

It's been a month since I finished The Phantom Pain.

The game was magnificent. It will always be to me Kojima's greatest work. The game means so much and with it's flaws, it's still a magnificent. I'm going to talk about a few things that came up because of the story, but I really hate to ruin it, so just in case spoilersv and such.

Saying all that.....

.....I think it really hit a nerve. It.....kind of hurt me. It kind of feels like echos of what I lived through. It's ......*deep breath*

.....secret wars....

I'm out. I think I'm out. I would like to think I'm out.

Then again, I do wake up in sweat at night doing what I can to stifle a scream. In the years I've survived, I've able to stifle the scream. I cry tears of fear and joy that I am out, but I'm not. Every now and then I get pulled back into a hell that I somehow survived.

......and the hell was never mine. It was never my fight in the end. I was fought, lost, and survived only to never be my fight. Does it mean anything? Does it mean anything when I lost so much to something that was never mine......

Did I lose so much to nothing? Was it all for nothing? This....hallow remains......for nothing? And those we lost......who haunt me.....who I question even now why they died never knowing it was for nothing.....were they ......lucky?

Sometimes, I belong or I feel that I belong. I think life will get better. That I will move on. Never turn back. Be happy. Live what is left of time I have and feel I have accomplished something.....meaningful. Worth so much. Much more than what I lost. I am almost happy.

And then, I wake up trying not to scream. Then I get a flash of.......horror? Memory? Who ....what I was.....where I was.....if I could go back and stop so much......fuck....Avey.......those hollow moments, a hard look, haunted eyes.......for fucking nothing....ha ha ......nothing......

It reminds me that I am not like you. I will never be like you. I will never be you. The price paid is often times it's own cost.....punishment....Faustian compromise.....haunted.....so haunted....

You hold me shaking. You fill my glass. You listen to small moments of hell. You sit with me while I try to escape. You wish me all the good I've am due. You send words to ponder, introspect, and hold close. You all have been so much to me. I will never be able to thank you ever. If I lived to the end of time I can not thank you enough. You give me the ability to lie....believe I can be......you.

And yet, if there is justice in this world......if there is any way to redeem myself of .......nothing.......I will have to live an eternity against my will. Sometimes.....sometimes death is too good for you. Sometimes you just need to pay your penance. I'm more then willing. Every good dead is redemption for one day to start another.

ha ha......and for it all......what was it all for? Nothing.

Cosmic joke of it all. It was for nothing. I paid my price and I got what I wanted for it.

*sigh*

I know.......I get like this. It's why I go away. It's why I have to go. It's.......heavy. I have to pay....penance for those who can't. For those who are not with us. For those who never learned it was for nothing. Fucking nothing.

I'm fine....no, I'm not fine. I won't be fine for a long while. I'm trying, but I'm not fine. We have to bury our dead. I have to learn to bury mine one day. It's why I tell you to. Because I can't. Because I carry them with me. It's because my hell should mean something to someone even if it's not ever for my benefit.

Penance. Price. Pain.

All the same thing. Always the same thing.

......I'll bury my dead one day. I will. I will rest with them also. Hopefully they will welcome me if there is any sort of afterlife outside of one imagined by those who can not have second chances.

I'll be fine tomorrow. I'll be.......but tonight. I morn them. I morn myself.

For......nothing.

......

Please......be good to each other.

The Only Difference Between Poison and the Cure............

I've hit a milestone on Friday when I went to the Westside. Fridays have this tainted feeling to them since I started family therapy a year ago and now continue my own since January. Fridays and the Westside have this taint. This......weight to them now as I make sure my complete day is empty from any obligation. When I do go, if I'm luck I'm usually in a mental fetal position for no longer then the rest of the day. If there is an intensive session I don't usually know it until I wake up on Saturday. By then, depending on how bad it was I can say if I'm ready to continue with life or I'll just remain a nonliving entity until demand and obligation forces me to conform to society once more. 

So while friends are excited for the weekend and have made plans I'm usually bowing out, disappearing and doing my best to ....I don't know really. Be? I can't explain to anyone who has not had it happen on how draining a session can be. It's almost as if you lost the energy as you would be depressed and at the same time you mind is racing, running and jumping between things, almost as if you're having a panic attack. 

Not fun. Not even close. Wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. Which oddly enough, is me. Ha....still.

*sighs* 

I know, what you're asking. This was a good session? There was a milestone! This is all good, right?

Yea, it was. Is. And yet, it's the same outcome. The only difference is that I'm somehow getting better. I don't see it really. I saw a little of it yesterday as I walked out cheerful, happy, even smiling. I felt as if I won. I even wrote myself notes to remind myself that I've won this week. I achieved something I have never have done and that is going to be good for me in the long run. 

Ok, let me cut to the bone.

I set up my first boundary.

It's something that I never learned to do. Coming from a family with trauma boundaries where never a thing. We suffered each others madness as if it was normal to explode and to let loose. I've never acted out this way until I was in my teens when I made life choices that we foolish and almost regrettable. It would take me a decade to realize that I was missing something. It's almost odd how most people who know about this look at me as if I'm from another planet. I mean, how do you not know how to do that?

A story too long to tell here, but to keep it short, no I never learned this because they people who would teach me this never learned this. They never learned boundaries because they were very young and victims of abuse themselves. Long chain of abuse that has never been resolved until now. 

I want to be the last link in the chain. I wanted. Sadly, it's not going to happen. My children may be the last link. Or not. I worry. I will always worry.

Ok, focus....*takes breath*

I learned to make a boundary. I was actually praised for it and at the moment it was very blatant. Trying to do a favor for someone who does not see that they're taking advantage of me. I have a kind heart. I give. it's my greatest strength and weakness. I give of myself, alot. I do everything I can to help those around me, yet I'm never able to help myself. I'm not able to do what I need to do to take care of myself. There was a time I thought that if you loved someone they would cover your back and you would cover theirs. This is not the case, even in a perfect place or time. Everyone is out for themselves. Not in a cruel way, but they are number one on their own list. Sadistic fucks are just number one through ten in every list, but every normal person is their number one.

I was never on the list. I was told it was selfish and wrong to be on your own list. To want things for yourself. Or just to make life better. You should think of others. They should be on your list. Never you. 

So...yea....I set up a boundary. I set one up and it had to be blatant. I set it and it had to be neon huge blinking lights and vulgar swagged. It had to be obscenely perverse and mockingly obvious. It had to be the biggest baby step I've ever had taken.

And when I did I basically stumbled forward, tripped and rolled in the right direction. To my credit I did recover and continue, but it had to be stupidly blatant. Like someone propositioning you for sex and you didn't get it until you were 10 minutes asleep. 

Yea, that bad.

Yet, yay? I guess?

So I was praised. And celebrated. And Crazy Doc was proud.

And yet, I feel......drained. 

Good or bad it feels the same. It feels as if got hit with the train that is coming back for me. Good or bad, it's going to hit me again and again. 

Trust the process. You have to trust the process. I'm told I'm doing "better". I have to do the one thing I don't want to do in this situation, but I have no choice. I have to do the one thing my entire being says that I should never do, to survive. 

I have to trust. I hate trust. I should be allowed to.

The only difference between poison and the cure is if you can survive the concentration given.

Ponderous Points #1 Hope and Waiting

Gained a lb and my body fat jumped from 23.1 to 23.5%. I'm not getting enough sleep sadly. I'm going to have to remedy that. I'm a bit sleep deprived which makes me laugh here in the tomb, but hey you can't fix everything immediately.

Goal today is to run 3 miles tonight, sleep in a bit since I'm running on 5 hours, and finish up my cover letter for one place and send that out to work on another. I'm in a writing streak as some of you can tell, but I'm probably going to start stacking them up considering that I can go into quiet patches. Two posts a week should be ok?

Crazy Doc is tomorrow. I know what's he's going to say. "You live in a toxic environment. You need to get out of there now." Kind of hard when you don't have a steady cash flow. If there's two things I realize being a vagabond it's that the only way people will put up with you is money or help. And somehow I'm starting to to feel my help isn't valued enough to talk to someone into letting me have a patch of carpet in the corner.

Therefore, resumes, cover letters, and just hope.

I hate hope. Hope is useless compared to a given, even if that given is negative. I'd rather know how bad it is instead of hoping. Mayhaps I'm just jaded, but I'm a fucking realist. My days of optimism ended when I was 16 and life started to get hard.

...huh.....minirant. See, going to store that up. Might even get CAt back up. Just random thoughts.

Random thoughts, plans and not trusting hope.

Walking a Line that's Faded at Best

Writing is a difficult thing. Almost hellish.

There are moments that I go without even speaking to people much less putting words on page behind meaning and yet there are moments where almost in a fever pitch I'm able to spew out words with meaning with innuendo with intent to cause some chaotic spark of thought that is outside the daily does of mind numbing crap. 

Being in the middle of the two poles, I find if hard to even keep what I've written here. I'm very sure it's not going to inspire or provoke thought. Yet I know I have a thought within that needs to see the light of day yet somehow the time is wrong, the mood is not there, or I haven't groked it long enough to fully pull out meaning. And yet, considering that I use my writing as means to balance my thoughts it can be....ickish....is there a word for intellectual blue balls?

Blue Mind?

Odd.

Well, as of now I'm once again trying to rebalance my life by trying to fight my weight gain, depression, looking for a full time legitimate line of work, and figuring out how soon I can move out of a place that, from what I'm told a toxic environment. It's all too easy to slump down and simply close your eyes and let....time...slip....by.....

So I get up despite of not having enough sleep. I weigh myself and check my body fat percentage and calculate how many calories and macro nutrients. I log what I eat, how much water I take in, and calculate my run times, caloric expenditure and any other value I can find out of what data I can gather. I look throughout the Internet and attempt to fill in applications, resumes with cover letters and reference lists. I try to take a nap when able, but not enough to lose hours of time, even though it's what I have. I go outside to work out, lift and keep active. If I have time left over I watch youtube as some would watch tv. If there's time to kill I get on a game and kill some hours of time. IF I have a book I read just enough as one would ration water knowing that my library card has been revoke by the kindness of others and getting hold of thought provoking books are rare. I'm always on wiki .

I can imagine that this existence, this limbo is how I would imagine prison yet with more violence or at times much less. Being around volatile people is nerve wracking. A snide comment said by one person can equate to days of hell. One person's outbursts can chain react. My only rule here to others is to not set off the megaton bomb in the room. I have my moments and I have to walk away knowing that toxic places pull you in by means lower then any enemy can pull. I've had good days where I pull away, bad days where I get pulled in and feel ashamed of myself for being foolish, and I have my rare days that kill me knowing that I am better and yet I gave into a chaotic and destructive nature. 

And people wonder why I know how to get away from crazy. People with solid advice have either escaped their hells or are fighting them at the moment. I'm the later. People who negate "no" for any reason. Anyone who makes you feel less then who you are. Any one who gaslight, is verbally or physically abusive when they lack a decent verbal IQ to discuss and even debate. People who emotionally leech, want you to rebuild them making your their monkey wrench only to return to abusive means, anyone who has ever thrown any object towards you. 

Hell. Abuse is hell. It's harder to escape it. There comes a point where your own being will work against you. Self sabotage, fighting low self esteem, trying to keep momentum and remaining positive are all part of it.

......funny......didn't feel like writing at all. Still don't know where it's going either. Still don't know if this will be posted.

Life is tough.......my life is tough. I'm going to try to not to speak in the third person. I'm told when I speak of myself I regress into a monotone and become distant. It's a mechanism from what I'm told is frightening as hell to watch. So....no third person.

*clear throat* My life IS tough. And it's stupid at the same time. I think of it was pulling myself out of quicksand. I know how to do it, I'm learning new methods to do so also, yet it's time consuming, tiring, and from what I'm told one of the hardest things to do. When your very effort works against you and doing nothing is death. I hear many people tell me they love me, they're behind me, that they are in any way willing to help me. I'm here trying not to pull anyone else in while trying to tread myself above. I more then understand that I have to reach a certain people in order to break free of mental shackles that hold be down, yet getting there is hard. I know what should be done. The practise is difficult, painful, and often times meaningless. 

It's why they say that the best support you can give someone depressed is to just sit there, maybe make them into a burrito and just sit there. It's nothing you can do to fix them. You presence can be damaging, but if you just sit and say you understand its the most amazing thing. The person does not need to hide it and they can simply be.

Saying this I have an amazing support network. I have great friends. I've been told that I can equate my value to that of the caliber of my friends. I would like to believe that. Then again I would love to be functional and not be in this situation to start. So I know, but often time I do not understand. 

It's like when I'm told that I've loved. I understand the words. I know the meaning. I more then believe that my closest friends mean the words, that they have meaning. I just don't feel anything. Was it because I've been in so many types of toxic relationships? Can it be that they loved me also and yet that love was painful, harmful, and destructive in their different ways. One person was physically abusive. Other mentally. One negated my own feelings and made me feel used. Others negated the word 'no' and others just took me along their own insanity. I have a type and its crazy, needy, hurtful. I didn't choose it. I didn't want it, but it's a clear pattern. Being celibate now for 9 years I can see that my life is a lot more livable when not in the trunk of a car or stalked.

So....therapy. I'm told people see changes. That I've made immense advancements in the 8 months I've been going. That I am more then willing to tear myself apart and pull whatever poisons me. That I know have a mindset that limits me, imposed by me, and that I will never be happy until I fully dismantle it. It sounds good. As if I can walk over to a pipe and just turn a valve and everything will be kudos. 

How I wish.

How I wish to be normal. I've a boring person really, yet I am a product of my environment. I do not trust easily. I consider my needs least if not important. I question myself more times then anyone else. I'm an introvert, pessimist, sarcastic, and yet I'm told I'm honestly not. I have a 'dark humor' that scares everyone off. I've lived horrors that only those who have cold eyes can recognize and normal people 'can't just even'.

ha ha ha....I was actually told I made someone go on antidepressants because I told them a part of my life.

Part. As in, "I was divorced by 21" part. 

Saying all of this, I try to be positive. I try to be functional. I balance my life and try to gain momentum as a child would learn to walk. I fall alot. I fail alot. I curl up into a ball alot. I don't cry. I don't know how to anymore. Yet, I get back up and try again. 

Why?

Because three years ago I should have taken my life. And yet, time shows that things change. Sometimes you just have to endure fucking hell as hard as it is, yet the moment you get your chance you will jump and run for it even if jump and run is really collapse and drag. Yet that fucking drag.....that pain.....pain is life....you have a fighting chance. Scream it. Yell it. Write it on the walls. Make as much noise as possible. Don't let it drag your down. It will and you should fight. You should make your escape the most explosive moment you can.......because if you don't you pass in silence. You pass in silence and mystery and no one around you will know what you suffered. 

So I screamed. I told everyone. I told those closest to me I was suicidal. I was fighting a fight that I was losing. And they pulled me in. They held me close and told me they loved me, even though I say now I can not feel it. It didn't matter. They came. They came.

I love my friends. One day I'll feel it, but I know I do. I guess I do.

My life is tough. I'm doing what I can to be functional. To be strong, confident, and progressive and proactive. I have my bad days. I have my worse days. I have days that I wonder how will I ever continue from that point. Oddly enough, my life has ended numerous times. And yet, there is tomorrow. Just the promise of tomorrow.....is enough. At least for now, it's more then enough. 

Shit today. Better tomorrow. 

If I have to go, let it take me. I refuse to do it's fucking work. If I'm not meant to wake in the morning then let it take me. I will not make it's job any easier. I refuse to. So today if hard. I'll eat my caloric need and workout. Work on cover letters and job opportunity. Write when I don't feel like it. Roll up into a ball. And start it all over again tomorrow.

Life is tough. My life is tough.

I'm tough too.

The Worst of Betrayals Come from Good Intentions

This is going to be hard.  This is probably going to set me back a bit socially, but I'm told by my Crazy Doc, for now on known as Crazy Doc, that there are points in my life and mind I avoid because of difficulty and not processing from that point or even now have long lasting effects that can hinder and even hurt. So please tolerate me a bit. I'm going to try to cut to the bone, but as many of you know me well some things are actually worse cutting into the bone instead of taking one's time. 

Also I've realize I can only cut to the bone when I'm emotionally isolated and numb. Not a good thing for me, I'm told. So with that I'm going to try to get to the point.

I think if there's a constant in my life it's that I've disappointed alot of people. Throughout my existence I've have not lived according to the ideals of many and even though plenty of people have never stated what I should or should do somehow I was supposed to adhere to this. Mind you, I've had this talk many times with many of you on what you should do if your family demands some antiquated ritual of obedience only to tell you my advice is to disappoint them. If your family ignores your sexual preference and demands marriage of you since it will fix what never was broken, deny them. Not only deny them, but show up with your partner and show them what you are, even if you have to commit sexual public acts in front of the planning so that they get the point.

Disappoint those who have ideals that do not fit your own or you will exist to deny yourself. Mind you, I'm only speaking of the extreme cases of course, yet for some reasons I'm always approached with these situations. Proper families with open channels of expression and communication somehow doesn't deal with this. It's always families in name only that somehow demand acts that does not suit the collective mind or a patriarch/matriarch whim. And yet, the invisible fear of those involved in this type so situation is almost torturous. Seeing someone weighed down by mental shackles of another's creation is probably the worst thing to witness. Seeing them suffer an existence that can be solved by the word no which has no power in their eyes. It's heartbreaking. Realizing that this person has no ownership of their own fate is heartbreaking as much as watching a dog behave on a strap of leather or cloth.

I digressed some, but it serves benefit. The mental shackles must be explained in order to understand. Even when believed torn off they continue to linger and drag us back if we do not understand how to release them much as Jacob Marley understood his plight. Simply overthrowing one oppressive force without removing the deeply ingrained installations only makes it easier for another oppressive force to take reign. I can not state this enough. This is what I'm dealing with.

I'll continue. *takes breath*

There's honestly something mind fuckingly twisted about realizing that the reason you ended up joining a cult was because you wanted a better situation. I realize that now, especially this week. The fact that the only reason a person would willingly join a cult is that the person was already hurt or broken as much as I would like to think of it, but more accurately its because you've already have the means of submission implemented and a greater oppressive force overrides any "loyalty". It's the reason why those abused either continues the cycle by finding another to continue that abuse or they change roles and administer their form of abuse. 

Yea, this months theme has to be mind fucks. The kind of this that you realize was under your nose and you had no idea until you finally see it behind a veil of rage and shock. I've had a few this month and chances are I'm going to be in store for a ton more. 

*takes deeper breath*

I'm not big with betrayal. Probably the stupidest thing I've ever written. Either way I'll start from here considering that I've stared at the screen long enough. Leaving the cult was probably one of the hardest things I've done and yet realizing that I needed to look after my children still in I had to build up a persona of a father that could do no wrong even if I felt like a piece of shit. I've got a job that put me to work for 30 hours, I took classes at the CC nearest work and home, I spent my money on my children and child support, I've taken my children in for months at a time trying to show them what normal was and show them no matter what kind of hell hole they lived in they would always have dad. For that, the ex wife used any and every chance to defame, malign, slander and belittle me. She knew as many others that there would be a time when they would willingly want to live with me. Yet with enough guilt, abuse, and more mind fuckery they were twisted and turned to different ways that no child should live. If they mentioned a woman's name I would soon get a call about about letting my whore near her children. Usually being told that the kind woman is a friend in a committed relationship who treated her children to food or attention when I was not able to for some reason. 

So to say I had to walked on eggshells would be a bit mild. Even those days I had to carefully look over my shoulder and make certain that I didn't make things worse. Child custody and social workers visited, if only to see if the children had a suitable parent. People around me were told in much shame that I was a divorced father at the age of 21, working full time and attending classes whenever possible. I've never banked on the sympathy of others considering I had shit to do and things to accomplish, but many other would converse and much munchausen would be enjoyed. I mean, how else would you explain a failure of a child? How else could you explain such a family disappointment to everyone else? While others were graduating college or starting businesses what else did you have to declare of your own child? I was branded easily as a fuck up. Black sheep. Worthless. Stupid. Someone who betrayed the family and their ideals. Someone who chose "Others" over his own blood. So at the ripe age of 21 I was worthless failure. 

If you know me. If you honestly know who I am, you know I'm a fucking stubborn person. I don't do things if I don't want to and I do things despite of who says not to. This is not natural. This had to be attained. I had to sit down one day realizing how close to suicidal I was for fucking up my life to realize that my death would serve the benefit of so many. Worthless child killed himself? How much pity would you give someone? Enough for a life time? Ex husband dead? Good. Now you can use him as the Goldstein to your Big Bother. How great of a boogyman would I have been to scare off the rest of the family from doing what ever the fuck you wanted? You go ahead, but when you become a failure like that child you will remember and you will cry.

How great is it when your death would benefit everyone else?

How worthless do you have to be that your death would benefit more?

So.....I did the only thing I can do. Tell everyone to fuck off and do things on my own. On my own I worked 30 hours and spent every moment loving my children who was told their father was a traitor to god, them, and the great ones. I took classes on Saturdays and late nights to rebuild my education. I started in remedial math and worked up to Calculus. I started in general elective science and became a tutor to those who could not understand and who didn't want to be insulted by those that somehow have it easier. I've got into Cal State on my own. I worked out my 125lb tuberculosis frame of a body into a decent 190 lbs by going to the gym from 2 am to 4 am. I've tried to rebuild friendships while enduring the fears of society, the end of the world, and everything sinister and evil that the cult said. I slowly used science to counteract my beliefs. I questioned my sexuality, identity, and being and realized every one must even if they identify as I do. I've endured the insults, slings, back talk of others until I could out debate, reason, and analyze others. 

I built my weak frame up via martial arts so that my words could not be negated by threat or bullying. I could already take a hit, but I would learn to take it, defend against it, prevent it, negate it, and counter. I would no longer be hit or beaten. I would build my body up to be a preventive measure. I would be the one who made others walk across the street or made other move aside on the sidewalk. I pounded and struck stone, wood, flesh, bone learning to break others. I would focus my rage into my own masochistic measures. I would endure the physical hell as well as the mental. I would take the hits so others would not. I would be kind above all, yet install fear into the eyes of whoever I wished. 

In all this I wanted only one thing; a better life for my children. I was not a factor. My happiness was not important and no matter how difficult it was I always tried to make their lives better. Make their hurt less. Offer sanctuary to them despite of what hell they lived. I would do so to many others. I would offer a kind word, inspiration, love to everyone I met. I would listen and offer advice gained from blood and work. I would offer aid and support whenever needed. If I was going to cross the finish line, I would drag other with me. We will all make it. We will all endure and make right what wrong has been given to us. That is what I wanted. I wanted people not to suffer what I endured. Ever. I would not allow it. I have the scars to prove it.

And yet in my time, I had learned that just because you help someone they do not help you. Just because they cheer you does not mean they want you to succeed. Simply because they resemble you, think as you do, or share your blood does not account them to be as or even close to near supportive. Being everyone's hero leaves you open to their hell. People often need something and see you as the best means. Their ails become your barbs. I can say that most of the people I've met never meant to tear me apart, but an apology, if any, has no worth is the damage has been done. 

I'm not big with betrayal. I can say this now without it being stupid. I've endured enough to become smart enough to recognize an abusive relationship. I've cut more ties then some have ever made. I've pulled from numerous places how to see someone coming and know what they want. I've cut myself off from people, endured their form of wrath and moved on. Always moving on. I can say that at this point outside of family, I've cut every bit of abusive people known. I say known since I'm never sure. Yet I can almost see it now. There's always going to be someone throwing stones. And you can endure it with grace and love and let it not change you or you can let it change you.

Guess which one I am?

After a point it doesn't matter. An act of kindness on your part is a come on. A pleasant conversation is a guilt trip. A good morning have double entendre. A smile means so much except for what you want it to mean. So you stop. You continue on and cut people. I don't smile because I don't want to or need to. It's something I might do involuntary, but not a habit I endure unless I lose myself with those I trust. A handful really. Even that I have means of cutting them out. My closet friend now have been in my life for 16 years and I know there is something in me that will cut him out. Something ingrained. The only reason we are still friends is that he know better. Not I, he.

Mind fuck.......things are mind fucks. The moment when you get a glance of something you've always seen in an angle you may have glanced over and it hits you. Or that story where evidence has been in the room, you are the cause of the ruin of multiple lives, you were the medic, you opened the box, your enemy is your father, everything is a manifestation of your guilt and shameful lust, you were always dead. Mind fucks. 

It was always me. I was always trying to push on. I was always moving forward even if I had to crawl or bide my time until I could run. I could trust no one at times and those moments I had to cheer myself on. It's funny when you were considered worthless. It's only your voice leading you on. It's you late at night reminding you why you're doing any of this. Why to keep driving forward even at a death march pace. Why you're doing things. You keep telling yourself to keep going if only to deafen the voices of others. You have to push forward. You have to endure. You have to commit the greater good. If you work hard enough people will file in and help. If you ever pushed a car down the street you know that people will help you if only to see you work less or just to say that they helped someone pushing something bigger then themselves. 

Betrayal happens. It naturally happens when others do not have a control over you or want to make you endure some hell they seem justified. Sometimes it's not even because of you. Just as some will help to say they helped some simply need to pull others down for the sake of pulling them down. Their reasons are usually sad in nature and yet cruel in implementation and usually best addressed as "shitty people are made of shit", the betrayal that hurts the most is always from someone you hold close to. Some one you protect and care for only to have them lash out at you. Sometimes out of pain or fear, but when the lashings are frequent if you have any instinct for survival you'd remove them from you. Once again, betrayal does not care if it was deliberate nor accidental. Damage is damage and any redemption comes from enthusiastic correction and penance on their part. Sometimes you see it coming and know the best is to let them strike and make them think they hurt you. Other times you cut ties and look over shoulders to ensure they do not find you. Other moments their acts are well hidden and can continue to harm you year after they have been removed.

As I mentioned, I've removed the remnants of those who slings were aimed at me outside of family. This week I had a close look at those who remain. Those who cut the deepest and cruelest that still remains. And it angered me. I could not understand why their voices were always the loudest. Why they cut deepest. I saw them as they are, flawed individuals who have difficulty stating their emotions in a healthy manner. They may care for me and they may not. They may know what they are doing or do so out of reaction or folly. As I said before, it doesn't matter until it's mended. Yet seeing them as they are angered me. How are flawed people in control over my well being. How can they affect me.

Crazy Doc: They can only affect you because you allow them.
Me: How is that? I don't want them to. If I don't want them to then they can't. Why isn't this working?
CD: They can because you allow them. You are not only allowing them, but you helping them.
Me: No, how the hell can I help those I do not want to hurt me?
CD: You're the one echoing their them. You're the one who tell yourself that it matters. You have taken up their argument as your own.
Me: No, that's not true. If anything I've against them. Their criticisms. I've used it as a goal to work against.
CD: You may have don't that, but you are echoing it all the same. You give it merit. You make it true instead of negating it. You made them real. You give them worth and you gave it power to lord over you even if you work against them. You made them stronger. You're working against yourself even if you're working against them.
Me: ......no.......wait....no......I ......no
CD: You are working against yourself by making their arguments real. You never had to make them valid, but you have and they're forcing you to push on.
Me:.........but I'm tired......I'm so tired trying to not be....why am I doing this then?
CD: You said it yourself. You work against opposition. You've always have. If anything it proves how resilient you are. How you endure. Now you're fighting against yourself and you know your weaknesses all too well. It's an unfair advantage you've given yourself to fight yourself so that you have opposition to fight against.

"He who fights with monsters should be careful lest he thereby become a monster. And if thou gaze long into the abyss, the abyss will also gaze into thee." ~Nietzsche 

Me: ....wait.....no....that's not right....I....

*silent for 10 minutes*

CD: Are you ok?
Me: *mixture of rage and hurt* I should be on my team......I have no one.....I had no one.....I should at least be on my team....why am I fighting myself.....I'm hell on things...I'm losing to myself.....
CD: You have great friends who are your family support. You have numerous people who care for you....
Me: It's not that......it was just me in the beginning.....just me.....everyone was against me or said I was a failure.....I only had me and I was not enough. I had to grow into everything....I had to be my own shield ....I had to against it all.....no one believed in me......I only had me and now......I'm .....fighting me?
CD: I know......but know you know. Know you know and you're able to change all that. 
Me: I'm hell on things......I am.....stubborn....and hard.....and I fight like hell.....I know what I've done and what I can do....and I'm ....the one.....WHY AM I FUCKING FIGHTING ME? I've been against me even when I wasn't.......fuck me....I have no one.
CD: What do you feel?
*five minutes before I could answer, most of it in silence*
Me:.......betrayal. I feel betrayed. 

"To fight and conquer in all our battles is not supreme excellence; supreme excellence consists in breaking the enemy's resistance without fighting." ~Sun Tzu

CD: I know. Yet you understand now?
Me: *nods*
CD: Now that you see yourself against yourself, you can stop.
Me: I'm already double thinking what I do and say. How long.....how must I....can I not fight myself.....because I'll never win.
CD: I'm happy you see that.
Me: I know better. I'm hell on anything......I'm the only thing stopping me.....I'm the only thing stopping me.....I'm stopping me.....I'm.....stopping me.....fuck me.....I'm literally stopping me.
CD: Better?
Me: No.....I want to hurt myself.......I want to tear myself into pieces and I know that's the last thing I should ever do.....it's maddening......it's....insane...am I insane? I think I'm insane....
CD: No. The only insanity was that you endured this for so long.
Me:.......yea.....I have.....
CD: Better? 
Me: No, but I'll get there......
CD: Good. We'll start that next week.

"Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win." ~ King

Fuck me.

The only way I've ever lost was because I took myself down.

Mind                 Fuck..............

How do you continue after that?

How do you live knowing you were against yourself in the first place and you were winning.

I mean....how.......I'm asking you......how?

..........because I don't know.........

.......I don't know. I don't know where to go from here......

Taking tally on the tremendous travesty I call trivial.

I have no idea why it looks this way, nor do I care.

Woke up an hour till noon. Slept a total of 9 hours for once. This honestly helps since I've been passing out at 4 am for the last week. I'm going to sneak a nap after a walk with the Short Blonde.

Not really all the way here. I'm not myself and I think that's good.

Realized several things in the last three sessions. Just going to machine gun then then look at them later.

*I'm my own worst enemy. No one else stacks since I'm the hardest on myself and I need to get "out of my head" before I can accomplish anything. It's a great filter considering what does pass is magnificent, but it's fuck all on my mind.

*I'm never dedicated to my own cause. Yours? Sure. A cause? I'll lift all banners. Me? Not ever worth the trouble. I honestly believe that I'm never worth the trouble.

*I'm carrying alot of other peoples' crazy. I'm dumping it as fast as I can, but it amazes me why I had it in the first place.

*Not only would I rather eat molten glass then talk about my pasts, but I would rather be shit faced drunk or numb then to speak about anything about it. Considering that I'm already emotionally numb when speaking or dealing with myself, I know that this is more then needed. I need to be because what little I shared had made people to run. Yea......I lived it and it scares you? Huh, wonder if this has something to do with my difficulty in finding true horror in my writing.

*I still hate orangutans. Always will.

*I'm starting to question my connections. Why are we friends? Are you just tolerating me? Am I worth the effort? Can I just disappear? Would it be better if I ration myself rather then be this open......I know, but I still think I'm wide open.

*The hard question in staring into the abyss is that I'm more it then it is me and I feel more at home with chaos considering it's my oxygen, I mean even to the point where my body does not know how to let go....I'm always on.....then, why am I trying to people when in truth I never was? I'm not people. I know that now. I still don't know what keeps me to go the full way or why I'm not a monster. Just don't want to be. I know it would be justified if I was that person and I know that chance of being one is always there, but.....no. I mean if I hold on to this small concept of my own humanity for some unknown reason, but I can't let it go even if it's as shredded as it was.

Why am I trying to people when people are the cause of everything?

*I don't trust you. Ever. You'd have to work so fucking hard to even have me consider you on my level, much less trusting.

Right?

I'm entertaining worse case scenarios. Going away. Starting a new life. Disappearing. Cutting myself off.

And knowing myself, I need to do the opposite as much as my feet dig in the dragging motion. I want to disappear, so I need to be social....yay......ick.......I'm forcing myself because I'm honestly too open right now and even now I'm only writing this because I need to make a record. I need to document this. I need this said so no one can say they never knew.

No, you need to know that much of only to realize no one cares, including me.