When survivors maul the victims

I was vagabonding it on Saturday when NPR had a talk about suicide on the view of the survivors. I couldn't help getting a bit angry as I listen to an analogy given by a writer whose father took his life very young at her age and who resented his ....cough....choice....in not existing anymore. Even her analogy was a bit hostile in my case. Being from either Minnesota or some other frozen hellhole, she compared depression to being lost in the snow storm while suicide just the individual becoming tired of not being able to see clearly and decide to lay down in the snow to sleep their life away. Often times she remarked that they were just feet away from home or shelter or whatever example of safety they wanted to frame it and.....here it fucking comes.....if they ONLY had just A LITTLE MORE FAITH and given A LITTLE MORE EFFORT none of this would have happened.

This still pisses me off. I initially yelled back at the Well-Meaning White People that just fucking frustrate me each and everytime they fucking miss the bigger point, screaming out something in the range of Fucking daft bitch, they gave all their faith and all their effort and they still died, in heartbreak and horrific disappointment that they could not be saved! Hell, no one came out for them. No one lit torches. No one made any fucking attempt to save them if I use your fucking analogy. And yes, even though the end result of suicide is that the loved ones and those closest to the victim, Im going to use the word victim here, have no idea and its almost a betrayal to THEM that they took their own life and it's their fault that they did it, everything we honestly know from suicide is based on those who remain and not of those who take their lives simply because the dead tell no tales and what clues they leave behind are usually hidden to protect the privacy of the family.

That's some one-sided bullshit. I know because I was going to take my life. And I was trying to find a solution to my issues outside of taking my own life. And if it wasn't for a mentor taking his first I would have not reached my radicle assumption that I will always leave those who have no idea or are blatantly oblivious to reach conclusions without them know. And often time a note is not enough to express what happened and why this was the only viable method at conflict resolution.

It's almost an insult to many who have taken their lives and I know being someone who stood on both sides of the fence. I understand that I stand here no screaming at the radio at all the well-meaning insult of well deserving victims who had to continue and who are tainted with the view of if they only know how their selfish choice cost everyone one around them. 

With immense respect, fuck all of you and I hope there is a special place in your personal hell where your lost one gets to confront you and tell you of their pain and anguish for all eternity.

Just a week ago it hit me. The perfect analogy for suicide. It encompassed everything I faced and felt and how close I was to take my own life. People with depression or some other mental illness are in a high rise on fire and at first, there is no sign and no symptom. And more and more as the fire builds and gets worse the occupants are forced to go higher and higher, not because it's logical or the best thing to do, but because the fires are so immense that the pain of burning forces them to move away and up is the only way to go. All the while they hope and wish someone helps them somehow while not believing so. I mean, who can not see their building on fire. Maybe they see and it's not a big deal. Maybe everyone building is on fire and Im the only one who can not control the flames. Why are my sprinklers not working? Why am I going through this? What have I done for this to happen?  Why am I not getting help and why is no one coming for me. Am do I deserve this. I can get out, I'll just keep at it. And you logic your way through it all until you reach the top and there is no other place to go and you start contemplating the hard questions. Should I let the fires take me or should I jump? How painful is it going to be to not jump? Why didn't I run through the fire then when now there is no chance of getting help. What will I do?

This is why people make plans and continue with their lives until somehow they just die. I was supposed to have brunch with them the next day. I was going on a trip with them. I just booked time off for our visit or was just at their birthday. Why would they do this?

In the end, they may have jumped. The fire forced them to jump out of reaction. They were consumed by what causes them so much pain and they pass. These are the questions they ask but not how come we didn't see their building on fire. And in honesty its because its a shame to show your building on fire. Mental health is still taboo. No one wants to come out and say I distrust my senses and I need help because I can not think straight enough to not cause myself immense pain. I can not hide it any longer or worse.....everyone ignored me until I took my life. And in the end, they reaped the sympathy and help that someone else so direly needed.

Suicide is the inferno consuming your building and forcing you out of it, either by horrific reasoning or by instinct to not be consumed by it.

There.

Not poor me. More poor them. Awwww.....they would never know how great life is and they missed out....because they made a choice...Seriously, how fucking shitty are you. This has nothing to do with you. They took their life and out of your own need to protect yourself you place the blame on the dead. You feel better, but it doesn't prevent those who die. And it doesn't prevent others from dying.

Seriously, fuck you. Im sure your father would have loved not suffering and not taking his life. Duh. Everyone would have. I know I would have. And if it wasn't for someone else who took their own life before me, I would have not understood that those of us who suffer in silence will only make ourselves the villain of our own tragedy. Yodon'tnt win. You just stop feeling the pain. And much like Milton's Satan, you're already doing to be made the villain then why not end it all in style and go out screaming.

I did.

I said to my best friend, Im not doing well and I wanted to take my life if not for X doing so before me.

Regardless if he believed me or not, I said it. And then on I kept saying it. And I screamed it. And I yelled at anyone else who would listen that I am not well and I jump rather having it consume me.

And then, someone heard me. I got help. Those around me didn't or couldn't help because they and I don't know how to. Or how to deal with it. Our generation who sees condoms are normal and not as a way to not die, still has much to learn on what will keep us from not dying. Then it will be normal.

And yes, that path to normalcy will cost us more lives. That's the horror, much like condoms needed to be normal.

I don't know how to end this. I didn't even think I was going to write about this.

So...yea.....end.

The Moment When I Realized I was on My Way Out or Missing Out On the Wave of Mutilation

December 5th, 2016

I read this now with a bit of a chill.

I was planning why way out at this point and I wanted to understand if I left would the world go on. Long answer, yes it would, but not without tearing a few people apart.

I almost wish I was there to let me know that this day would come. That as bad as things are I was not completely insignificant and that my moment to break out was coming.

Then again, I don't think it would have helped either. No, something else had to happen and that's what changed me a few months later. Sadly, something else had to happen. 

A dear friend would have to beat me to the punch and leave me where I would have left everyone else.

Chills.

I want to say more, but I think I'll just leave this here. That and know that things will get better. And if you think they're not, make noise. Scream, Yell, Do Not Go Willingly, but struggling and putting up a fight. 

That and I love you. Yes, you. You can beat this.

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline

Call 1-800-273-8255

Decemberr 5th, 2012

Shower Epiphany: Death is usually seen as the end and yet sometimes perspective is needed. I was not alive before 1970 and have not taken part in history that goes as far back as the planet forming into a habitable sphere many billions of years. I can be certain that I will not see 2100 and beyond the point when the last form of life expires and the universe either expands into nothingness or retract into an impact not seen since the Big Bang as theories go right now. And yet I have now.

A few days ago I've come to realize that not only are we made of stardust, but in a way we are the manifestation of the universe in the form of life. Something in the making for so long a time that we now have our moment in the universe as the dinosaurs before us and two other extinctions that have lead scientist to question is our strain of life have not originated on another planet such as Mars. So to say that life is rare is greatly understating.

My point is we see death as an end in a limited span of time. And yet, we were not before and we will not be in the future that in truth if we are lucky we will not be remembered when we do expire for this world. This is how special life is. It's a fluke. Death isn't taking us away, but in a way it's correcting an anomaly returning time back to homeostasis. In a way, our time aware now is not only a rarity, but we can only be certain of now. That is how rare and valuable life is.

I am in no way a friend of death, but I'm now understanding that I am not it's enemy as well. My time will come as it has for those I still hold close to me and I have no choice than to go willingly and so in a selfish need I seek a form of immortality. As many have before me. Some left monuments while others left memories wither lovingly molded or scarred into our collective psyche. And yet, I've have found what a selective few have discovered as the true form of immortality. Those who have gained it all have in common not a desire to prolong their life or to avoid the hardships that it brings, but have sought to bring meaning to them. They have in simple terms aged while never becoming old. Those successful enough have left an impression on us that we still hold on to.

And so, today I stop fearing death and instead will one day welcome it as a friend. When my time comes, I will leave willingly. Until then I will be proactive, productive and prosperous. I will be honest to those among me and those I come near. I will not waste a moment to make the memory and I will seek to chase the daylight until it outruns me and welcome the moon with open arms. I will also take the moment and revel in nothingness. Taking moments to sleep in the afternoons with lazy cats as well as laugh while reading frivolous volumes of collected thoughts that have in no way any point to advance my knowledge. I will blow bubbles in my coffee and make funny faces back at small children. I will waste no time in wasting time as long as it was time well wasted.

And so with some resolve, I will try to remember my dead this dreadful month and attempt to embrace my moment in the universe until I must leave. And if lucky I will inspire someone to also revel under their moment in time rather than despise our mutual end or to morn our loss instead of celebrating what time we have.

I shall savor every moment. Even the last one.

Election Eve....not knowing

*sigh*

Going to bed with Trump way ahead. So....yea.....

I have work tomorrow. I'm afraid what I'll wake up to. 

Even if Hillary wins, the fact we had to come to this point where Trump was ever taken seriously....The hate monger who was supported by hatemongers, the alleged rapist, the guy who thinks we're worse off. The guy who brought violence to the forefront.

I go to sleep broken. 

Tomorrow is another day. I'll survive this as always, but hell just when we were getting things nice.

Please Stand By

My dearest apologies, loyal and critical readers,

I had so much to share and contribute with so much happening last week. Overall, it was positive, magnificent, and challenging in every way. Those closest to me have a hunch of what I'm enduring at the moment and have all arrived at one statement:

You need a lawyer.

So, I'm trying to find one considering financial limits, gathering proof, and simply attempting to find one who knows if they can help me. So I'm in a bit of a mental hurricane.

Please have some patience with me and I shall give all. My most magnificent change a week ago, putting myself in the worst place for me in spite of what I had to gain, the fact that I actively looked over my shoulder and realized that the abyss was not to be seen and hardly felt.

And sadly, yes what happened Thursday at 9pm and why I need a lawyer.

Why not tell it now?

*sigh*

Ever lived an ordeal that simply telling it drained you of life, happiness, and drive to accomplish anything? Well, that has been the majority of my life without any....ANY....embellishment. In many ways, it's why I see the Crazy Doc and why he told me I needed to fight this. I needed to take this on as much as I have taken anything on and put this to it's grave. I would tell it, but not now. I need to time to process and time to gather my thoughts. I also want to touch on something happy, if only for myself and to give respite that I had worked so hard for.

......I was working hard, I was.

I need a lawyer.

Please, forgive me. I should have something a bit more cheery for you. It was an awesome week.

I'll see you on Wednesday.

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......

Existing with PTSD or how to prepare against everything that can happen to you at any point possible.

Yea.....little overwhelmed.

I mean, if I am to believe what I've been told I've been living like this all my life. It's almost as if you question fish on how they deal with water. I mean, it's what I know. It's my existence. It's the air I breathe and as close as heartbeats.

I don't know anything else.

I do not know anything else and what I can get from most people in my position they either learned to get out, they've been killed, or they've taken their own lives.

Kinda daunting, no?

It explains why I was planning my exit some years ago, my trust issues, feeling run down and losing my urge to fight. From what I've been told it explains my rash acts when younger and my meticulous actions against any risks and chance of losing anything slowly gained. It's hard thinking 7 steps ahead and it's what I do. It's hard to not calculate every contingency and worse case in my head because when shit happens I know that those few seconds matter the most.

It's living in a continual state of chaos. It's knowing that the few moments I can close my eyes and ......stop......will cost me something and are too far apart. It's why I stick to the shadows, work without having people notice, and leave before thanks are given. I take weeks to recover for moments of great charisma and social grace. I fight moments where I'm force to stand out and rather turn away anyone who blatantly seek me out for their own good rather than my own awkwardness.

I honestly do not know anything else. T.S Eliot called me, and others like me, The Hollow Men. I see myself more as Christophe from The Serpent and the Rainbow, constantly holding watch for those who are buried alive and forgotten. Connected by those with haunted looks paid by prices too costly and annoyed by privileged kinder who have no idea of horror.

This is my element. Like it or not, this is where I was conceived in the abyss of chaos. This is all I know, even if it reduces my life. I'm not like you all and my farce to mimic you have left me questioning what side of the abyss I belong on and why I must pretend to be one of you. My greatest achievement has been limiting my insanity from you all, even though it does spill out. And now, I'm supposed to look at all this and believe that I can exist out side. I can be....one of you. I can be....people.

I don't know. I don't believe. It's as if you told me I didn't need to breathe to exist. I don't know if I can do this.

And tomorrow, I go and see if it's possible of simply something to stagger off to before I can place my marker on one of the three categories previously mentioned.

I have not hope, really. I do not know the definition. All I have is a stubborn streak and a desire to die right. SO I'll stagger in a direction as I always have and see how I will end.

This is horror to you. This is life to me.

It's why we are never meant to live. Survive, yes. Live? No.

So....yea.....that.

Those who have crossed

With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom

Remember us-if at all-not as lost

Violent souls, but only

As the hollow men

The stuffed men.

T.S. Eliot~The Hollow Men

Shower Epiphany: Deranged Digital Dictation

Finally in the right mood to write. Sometimes it's not how you approach something is in what way you would think you would approach something. That and I'm getting kinda tired of all these heavy posts even though it might help me in the long run I can't stand any more sleepless night. I'm going to try to come in through the front way I'm going to try to actually commit resurrection I doubt I'll be able to do it , but hey I've done a lot more than most people give me credit for. that and every now and then I have to turn around to look at someone else and half of that I just pull that s*** off? I know I'm capable of some really cool things some breathtakingly awesome moments , but I usually don't see myself anything better than trash. I know it's very zen of me to think very little of myself but I think it's really tracking me down lower in two places where I really don't want to deal with things. I have to find happy middle where I'm not the greatest human being in the world, but at the same time I don't deserve to be spit on all the same. And truth I'm trying to find out what my real value is and if my real value is around a buck 25 then I can accept that. I just don't want to feel that I'm over hyped and at the same time treated like cheap material.

I don't know. I really don't. and yet I would have to agree with Iggy Pop that I'm worth a million in prizes, at least.

I know that some of you were asking why I'm writing such things and why I decided to clear out the closet and whatnot. In truth I'm going to say this as blunt as possible. When it came down to the races going down the street someone beat me to it. He not only beat me to it but he scared me for the fact that he was the one who won. In fact I could say now that he pissed me off because he stole my exit. and yet I honestly think he actually save my life. In truth, I'm no quitter and yet hard moments leave empty and weak sometimes. If anything I didn't want to end up leaving as a quitter. If I do leave this I wanted people to know that I went down swinging and kicking biting and scratching screaming and head butting all the way down. some of you with know, don't make things easy for anybody. It just not the way I do things.

So outside of my promise to take certain things to my grave, everything is going to be talked out. Hell if anything , it's my way of fighting back against the world actually try to crush me. Hmm.... I'm talking too much. I should be writing this down somewhere else instead of talking to you. That whole thing about milk being free and the cow and up becoming steak dinner. And so, I'll leave you all to go write.

Um.... By the way , all of this is being written down via voice thingy. So any odd oddities is due to the fact that yeah I kind of slur my words or mumble at times. Go fig? So anything written here that's kind of odd that I didn't do well... Enjoy!

Love's Naloxone Or Taking the Anti-love pill. Part Seventeen – Sopa de Cavalo Cansado or How Not to Tenderize your Dead Horse

There is a special place in Hell that is made for me and for me only.

A hell that seems to haunt me today, even now, as I relive the past for clues that never were and hunches that do not exist.

I'm getting ahead of myself here. I'll explain this once more even though it feels I've explained this so many times already......hence my hell.

I always feel that I've missed my calling at times, since I'm usually a marvel at the details. Things that help me wonder for hours that a small question can usually answer. For example, while running I reached a set of houses that had a giant riding mower cutting that grass. Most people would have not payed any mind, but automatically I told myself that that mower was very large and that it would make no sense to drag it around to site to site. It had to have some place to leave it when not working and by the look of the property it looked like that there was not suitable place unless they occupied one of the small garages to place this any any other landscaping equipment. Mind you, I questioned not because I wanted to find where it was or even ask the people what they did with it since it would automatically paint me as someone with an interest in the mower. It was a puzzle that I wanted to answer and it kept my mind sharp.

It wasn't until yesterday when I saw one of those giant pickups with the double tires in the rear with a massive incline in the alley. That answered my question and at the same time it fueled more. Not to ask or to investigate, but to simply assume on what information I can gather while running by for 15 seconds.

That is how my mind works. To some that would be exhausting and yes, there are moment in the darkness of predawn where I am up hunting down google wondering if Stephen King's monster in It was in any way Lovecraftian only to discover a few essays and vast information on youtube. I've been woken up from the slumber of a dead sleep only to drag myself in front of a computer to find out a random thought here and there only to look up and realize dawn had arrived and left.

Mind you, all of this is quite brilliant and it often times fuel amazing conversations with people who out of rudeness and a lack of "hallo" I've simply continued our last conversation with a few more thoughts and analysis that I've had the chance to reflect on. To say I'm a spur of the moment thinker is to say that turtles are excellent sprinters. I may take actions in a heart beat and some may even complain that I move faster than most, but within my head I often am reliving conversations had and moments that simply baffle me.

What's my point?

Getting there.

I'm going to start showing the links to this chained thought, so please hold on and remember that I'm working to the end even though you may feel that I am simply waxing on poetically or painting a scene. I'm working hard at completing the thought so that it can be put to rest and allow my mind to clear if only for a moment.

Try to follow along.

I can't recall from where or want to really, seeing that I will investigate why I focus on one link and not the whole chain or at least that is what I will say now, there is a mystique about the idea of a mix tape. I know I am dating myself a wee bit, but there was a time when music was hard to get hold of and getting music was an amazing thing even if you could just drop a few songs on a CD and burn them. So in my time on this planet and about, I've made a few if only for my enjoyment and since the creation of the MP3 we can say that this have mutated to the playlist and some sort of cloud, is it? Either way it was meaningful to get a CD from someone. To discover new music or a band that was just starting to bud. Music is a personal expression and sometimes just getting a batch of music means so much.

And yet, I have never equated it to getting flowers or candy. Not only due to my gender, but I've always been someone to share things I've always felt were great. I'm the person who offers everyone in the room a bite of what is tasty even if I only got a bite from the experience. I'm one to promote the qualities of others and to boast the greatness of all things not me. I've always been a giver and connect the act of giving with good feelings and even joy. And yet, I'm not one to see others giving to me and see it as anything. I'm usually one to say 'no thank you' or 'I'm good, thanks' and yet I've been told that sometimes you have to accept things if only to offer the person joy and appreciation. I understand that but something sick and twisted in my life had me equate keeping things with loosing them or watching them become destroyed so if I ever get something of value I either give it away in order to allow it a chance to survive or even protect it with my life, but only for things that I'm able to carry out of a fire in an undaunted hand while dragging someone with the other. I don't put importance to things because when someone can that something you find joy in and destroy it in front of you to see you suffer you wither learn not to place joy in things or to hide that joy from the world in fear of someone finding it and destroying it.

I know. Sick and twisted, no?

So I try not to accept things and offer much thanks and kindness. That kind of shit sticks to you.

And yet......mix tape.

.........

There are few people in my life that had honestly either changed me or tried to make that attempt to a better person or who loved me in some sort of way that was not completely destructive to either of us. I'm one to say that in the mix of psychopaths and narcissists who have wrecked my life in their ways, I'm met people....women who have fostered some hope and kindness in my heart. Their leaving for one reason or another has in many ways inspired me to take more steps in life and at the same time caused an ache in my heart that only strong bourbon and the blues can relieve. I used to cut them out of my mind in the past and deal with moments that they would show up time to time in my dreams and thoughts. They haunt my mind and inspire my imagination as Muses lost and desires unrelieved. I use them as a bar at times when wondering who is worth my time and other times they are the vexing torment that has me shake my enraged fist at a world who had taken them away from me,even if I can understand why. When someone arrives that this place I can not remember their flaws nor recall what difficulties they may have offered. They become more myth than human at times and yet I know that I have to detach myself from this in order to have any future at all.

So when I hear that some people give these items as a show of affection and even desire I panic. I remember and look back and I even pull apart my things to that I can hold them or in this case the CD. Holding it now in my hand it baffles me now on how stupid or oblivious I can be to someone. Looking at the writing on each song, times, titles and artist as well as a small bit on how I should think of this just hurts me now in the same way a Blues Man would relive a moment of pain to inspire numerous songs that still do not reach bottom the well of despair in their heart. To hear B.B. King moan or John Lee Hooker literally weep out words that convey so much agony only those who live such a moment can look up and realize someone else feels what I can not set to words or music.

Beware of Artists for they blend with all of us.

Ha.....sorry....I'm feeling this now.

So to say that I loved this girl is saying so little. So little to the point that I've told myself no matter what I must keep my distance if only to save the the trouble of my chaotic life. I still see myself as a source of chaos now and carefully limit my time with people I care most now if fear that I may cause them some sort of anguish. I would rather cause myself pain that any one else. So you can see why I'm apprehensive on why I spend time with others and who.

Speaking to a friend, who I shall call The Philosophical Punk, I've always remarked that she had a harem, or to say a collection of men who follow her about in with puppy dog eyes and unsettling photos of their genitalia on hand. We've traded horror stories and laugh at the blatant actions of those who would gather her attention even though much of the time they are either seeking an ideal she can/won't supply or are simply sub par to her, i.e. 'as soon as I get out of this ankle bracelet I'll move near you'. Something not to be enjoyed even if it provides suitable laughs. And yet, she has on quite amount of times shown that I have a 'sidekick'  of sort. Not a harem in comparison of her minion count, but a female sidekick that may change actresses but usually is an active role. At some point I can usually shrug it off, saying that sometimes you get paired with someone from work or is just someone to pass the time here and there and to go for a meal, but to say that this has no merit is to lie, even if there is nothing I may want from them than a meal mate and someone to hold an intelligent conversation.

And yet, there is always a sidekick. If not one there is usually someone who I can confide enough to have a moment respite in my chaotic life. Someone who I can have coffee with, talk about the thoughts of the day or even laugh with. So there is a need, even if I do not look for these people. I can even think if I placed a call and gathered them together I can. They are not minions or people who would do something for me, but individuals who I in some part adore and care about as one would a sister. I've even told some that I would never want to sleep with them if only to tell them that I'm pulling myself out of any race that others may stubble over others in desire for their attention. I'm not one to fight for someone's time and have always seen it as what little I can get is more than enough. So I'm not collecting people in the traditional sense especially my strays are something all together different.

But that's for another day.

So spending my time with someone .....anyone is not a huge thing for me. It's a treat and I enjoy it, even if we are too busy chewing to talk. It's just someone to take my mind off my life. Someone to share a kind moment. Someone who I don't expect to be there in my life. If anything it's Me featuring Them. Just something that I'm not concerned with outside of just a moment. Are they unattractive? No. Do they not have qualities that I would find attractive or even desirable? Sure they do. I truth I just don't see myself as anyone/thing worth the time of others. Yes, I know. Sick and twisted, but this is what I'm dealing with. I'm at the point where I figure out that people like me enough to get near me, but I'm not aware that I am worth their time in the long run. Especially when I've look back and see my relationships never made it past the two year mark. There is something faulty in this and I'm now at the point that it has to be me. So I am not one to chance at losing a friend for a chance of a bed mate anymore.

I've already lost too many brilliant people I could have had as friends who I lost as a lover. In the end, I have to say it's me somehow. And that is what my mind had been doing. Something that the Philosopher Punk, calls something between masochistic and hateful circular thought where I am to blame no matter what. I call it regathering the evidence and trying to figure out what was. Mentally returning to Cold Cases and trying to see if new thoughts and views offer any new insight that I may have missed. Reliving history long gone for the sake of never having to relive it again. Mentally pulling and searching the wreckage of  the downed moments, searching through fields and crevices for what is missing and what never was to rebuild it over and over and over again only to realize it is never enough. I can find an answer but it is never enough nor is it the answer I've been looking for.

The last one who had left my hear was just 5 years ago. I still think about her still and wonder, but never one question. No matter how I put it out of mind, I somehow rush back and rebuild it all even though I am more than tired of this, I still obsessively look thought it to realize what was.

But never .......

And I see it all and think that I could have done something different and could have somehow salvaged or even made it better. That I for some reason ended up overlooking something and this something is the mix tape. Perhaps, mayhaps I could have changed things I could have made things better for both of us. I could have somehow salvaged enough of us so that I would not be haunted by her or her absence. That I could have only made things better and maybe even find that one thing in me tha is of fault and that I can repair so that I do not feel that I am at at fault and I am to blame. If I only listened to that mix tape more or studied it longer or even....

Stop it.....

If I can not solve this puzzle how am I going to live with myself and allow myself to sleep and rest and move on. It's my fault somehow and unless I find out how or why......

Yes......ask it.....ask it the right way.....

.....why it's my fault....

No, but you are close....a little more.

Why it's my fault?

Come on, one more time.....

Why is it .....

No....don't run from it. Face it.

......my fault.......

Come on. Say it all.

......why is it my fault? Why is it my fault?

There you go.....answer that one. Answer the one that you always turn blind eyes to.

........ok.

.....I'm doing all of this to find a solution. I want to know why I screwed it up, but in truth I'm just .....hurting myself. I'm tearing myself apart in hopes that I can make amends for making someone feel unloved.

Keep going.

To make them feel that I've hurt someone. So cause someone to feel unwanted and unneeded. To make them feel like I was made to feel. Unwanted, unneeded, a hindrance and someone to blame. I would even love them if I didn't because it's a horrible feeling that I can....

No, not you.....stop it....you didn't do it and you never done it.


.....I'm afraid of making anyone feel like how I felt. That feeling of hurt and worthlessness. That abusive feeling of nothingness that equates all the problems to.......

Come on. Say it.

.....to me. That it's my fault. That I somehow made things worse and believe that I am to blame for everything. That I am so willing to accept blame and swallow all the blame to make things right. And that is my problem. I automatically blame myself...because...

....watch it......don't do that.....

....it's my fau...

STOP IT.

......I'm afraid it may be me?

All of it.

I'm afraid that I'm to blame no matter what. That in truth I'm only responsible for my actions and in truth I can only be responsible for my actions.

There.

.....but if I can somehow....

WHAT? You can control the actions of others over what you have done? NO, it does not work that way. You are making your self worse than you ever were. It's not your fault. And if it was, so what? That does not make anyone else less responsible. You did everything right and you even try harder than anyone else. If no one can see that than what good are they?

......but I.....

Feel better if its your fault? Really? How is that? Where is the math attached to that?

.....

You are only digging in an area that has been dug and nothing may come out of it. There is no answers there. You know this.THINK. What do you tell others. Use that now.

.......*sigh* Yea......I tell others that if someone wants your attention they will cross Hell and back if only to see you for 5 minutes. And when someone does not want anything to do with you they will disappear off the face of the world.

Yea...

Yea. Yeah. In the end I'm beating up a dead horse and I'm the horse. There is no use and there is nothing wrong with me outside that I think there is something wrong with me. I mean, there has been people I could not get rid of nor could I even shake. Some people hunt me down today and I do what ever I can not make sure they can't get to me. At the same time I know others who are able to walk off. And .....that's ok. It's ok if I was never worth the time. I'm not worth their time as much as in truth they were never worth mine.

If somethings fall apart it's not just me. I try to make things better, but it's not all on me.

It's not.

And here is where I stop trying. Because I'm just finding new ways of kicking myself down when others just run off and keep going. Some just to cause the same shit over and over again. So.....no. Just no. I'm not going to do it anymore. I'm just not going to kick myself down for something I had no control over and could not do alone. In truth, every one has to share in the blame as well as in the rewards.

So why dish out double the hell just to give up on any reward? Do I honestly deserve any? Am I not allowed to pat my own back even if I deserve more? I know others can't step on my throat if I'm not doing the yogi miracle and doing it myself, but damn......really?

Really? I know I'm mess up and twisted, but I'm not even doing this for something I want outside of hating myself more?

Really....what the fuck?

*throws CD into trash and moves on*

There you go. Good for you.

Shower Epiphany: the horror.....the horror.....

I've realize something that chilled me to my bones.

I've never said I wanted to write fiction. Even young I never told people that I wanted to be a great writer. A writer of stories and epic novels that would have people clinging to every word from my imagination. Or even I wanted to write to fans of millions who would crowd a bookstore one day for a glimpse of me and even have a small bit of talk while I sign their books.

I said I wanted one thing only.

I said, I want to write horror.

....

How to be an Ass in a Nightmare

I had a long dream that consisted of three nightmares and I'm going to discuss them so if you don't want to be disturbed, move along.



Go on.





Ok, First one I was being driven into this desert there every now and then you would see the remains of someone hanging. Kind of disturbing, yes, but I could not understand why I was being taken there or why my companions where brutish and silent. One I've reached a hill I was told to get out when a woman from my past walks out.

The ultimatum was this. Forced marriage or I will end up hanging from some sort of cactus tree which would puncture me as I slowly strangled to death. Before hand papers would be "signed" to endure I still got married and my possessions would  just be transferred over and that would be that.

Well, good people it seems I'm an asshole in my dreams as well. I've had my share of Nightmares and I know that if I'm not being chased or completely horrified, then I can reason my way out. I started to laugh, and then said that this tree is too short and I wanted something in a curved spike like the one across the way. The thuggish men pulled out rifles and I laughed even harder. It was so sad that "she", and she will only be known as she, tried everything to convince me even kissing some of the brutish men to insight jealousy.

Laughed even harder as I started to fit the noose around the neck and readjust it to just make me strangle and not pop my neck. All the while stating that last time I checked that I'm worth nothing, I'm looking for legitimate work and last time I checked she left for someone like this brutish thug who showed his adoration by pummeling her. At which she threw a tantrum and they all got into a car so that they can just strand me in the desert. I kept laughing as I said that I could not hang myself.

They left with her screaming I ruined everything, this was supposed to be romantic, and I was an ass and she would call me.

Yea.....walk back to civilization from there to arrive at the end of the world. I mean, earthquakes, zombies walking about, Glen Beak leading an army of glue sniffers (hey, I never said my nightmares where not funny). I arrive at a torn down building as certain people wanted me to start planning for graduation. I looked at them and said, um....we been through this. I don't want to and that I think the world has a bit more on it's hands than me planning a dinner, getting photos and getting tons of like on Facebook (boom! Facebook slam). They stared at me wondering what I meant as I was continually bashing in a zombie's head with a shovel. And yet, I get tossed on a gown and cap and they start taking photos of me as I wonder, am I the only one realizing there is a bigger picture. Well, a huge atom bomb drops in the remains of the room as I smile and run off with a mushroom cloud behind me.

Now for some reason I'm in a fancy kitchen being instructed by some huge Asian cook who spoke and automatically had a voice over. I was instructed to take a small suckling piglet and prepare it for a delicious meal. It was already buttered, and stuffed, and with a tiny apple in it's mouth, as I asked why do I need to prep it since it looked done. He was translated into this long speech of ultimate flavor and how life is the ultimate spice as I slowly and horrified realized that it was still alive.

And crying.

I was to slit it's throat and toss it into the oven. This little buttered covered pig was crying and so abused as I was instructed to do this horrible thing. I was ensured that the piglet was already half dead from the forced stuffing and it would be merciful to end it's life now since the people wanted it cooked longer than prescribed. Well, I simply ran off into the distance with a crying buttered piglet in arms as the bombs fell.

Yea.....bloody moon. Don't worry too much. I can see little signs of my day yesterday in these dreams so I doubt that this is the kind of nightmare that is to frighten me, but more of my jerk subconscious trying to tell me things that I am not ready to listen to.

Just wanted to share and get it off my molested chest.

Love's Naloxone Or Taking the Anti-love pill. Part Fifteen – Instrumental

I think this is a post that has a long time to be written, especially now that I'm feeling a bit stronger than before. The act that I'm not writing this in the third person or trying to mask this in the veil of fiction is saying alot. I'm kind of proud of the bounds made so far in an astonished and disbelieving sort of mind. Being so long under a rain cloud that after a few days of sunshine I'm quite frighten at the fact that it's not there, not in any way saying that I would love to return to my mind filled with difficulty and a constant state of misery, but that if you remove anything/anyone from their natural state and place them in a complete and different environment you will have them marvel and often time recoil in some sort of minor horror that their existence can be different.

Don't believe? Feed a stray animal some moist chicken or beef from your own plate and they will enter a kind of epiphany where all their suffering has been worth that one moment and you will never be alone since they will stand by your side as companion and confidant. In fact, don't do so unless you are ready to look after them and take them in since that little sliver of hope and gratitude can crush their little heart quickly if you are not ready to have them into your life.

Huh.....that's what this is all about, isn't it? That sliver of hope that can crush us if it's unfed. Not like the first embers of what can be life giving fire it does not punish you for not being unless you count that lost opportunity to have it as grave. BBQ not so much, but in the wilderness with nothing else on your side you will understand that there is nothing more devastating that lost hope.

So yes, I'm here to plead my case, tell my tale and to offer confession to all who watch me now. I do not kneel to any deity but to the universe that spawned me and made me cry out into the coldness of the world. Ha.....no....no I can't blame people for what is done, no matter how much I may want to nor am I going to begin now. Sometimes shit just happens and we can choose to see it as it is or as it could have been. And yet, in my odd case I never had taken time to look at it, but simply force another step forward to this figurative place where I could finally arrive and lose my burdens.

Well, this is it. I'm there. To be honest, I never really believed I would get here. That eye of the storm or  the safe harbor where I can find enough solitude to feel.....safe. In fact, the idea of feeling safe has never occurred to me. I can not tell you how safe I finally feel and that work has been done not by my reluctant hands and numb hands, but the work of individuals who I love more than anything in the world. They have done much to offer me some sort of anchor to moor myself to and to finally feel that I am no on the run. Even nomads much know where home lies to travel away from it. And yet with my vagrant soul I had fond no peace or shelter. The last time I've held a concept of 'HOME' that was not chaotic, poisonous or heavy was in the years where I was young. At least early double digits.

Abuse spawns abuse which spawns abuse.

So I'm flying blind right now. I haven't found a song to accompany this or even a direction. I just know I have to say certain things that prose, verse or meter will not allow. I'm quite certain that words may fail me as it had failed me at times when I needed them most. In fact, the only thing I can say that I have intact in my very being is my name. I've been stripped from every bit of human need that can be and after a point, every thing left over, whole or tattered, was cut off by myself to ensure that nothing will ever hold me back again. I must move on. I must arrive to that mythical promise land that never is, was, or will be. And yet, I am here. Almost as if the lie I told myself to keep me from buckling and falling down for the last time has came true in some sort of cruel act.

If I can help you understand what I'm going through it would be that scene in Shawshank when the Older Man and Red get out of prison. Anyone would say that it's a good thing to leave, specially if prison is as horrible as it is said. You can even imagine that the freed individual  may even laugh and celebrate until something happens and they are sent back. Sometimes, sometimes you realize that your life has been molded by the horror you had endured for so long and not suffering leaves you alien and not understanding what is next. I've knew this day would come when I realized that I'm close. I never believed it, but I am not one to refuse research. I've looked into much and realized that I am, for the lack of a better word, institutionalized in a mind frame that can be dangerous. The natural thing to do is to run out from a situation where the pressure has been consistent only to fall down and die. Just like returning from the depths of the ocean you have to decompress so that you are able to survive without that constant pressure.

This in fact is my constant theme in everything I've written really. Lovecraft is haunted by the insanity of his parents. King by the lack of a father and the need to feel whole. I have lived a lifetimes worth of trauma and in many times continued to run back in to pull others out, even when they pull me back in, only to realize that I've never decompressed. I have not dealt with many things and it all hit one single nerve that is almost so prevalent that I've worn it upon my breast as my letter and raised it as a banner. My biggest weakness and the whole reason I've built enough defenses and protection and layers and inner circle and the ability to leave anything behind as a man would cut a finger off to survive gangrene. The ability to pile on suffering, hatred, mockery, and ridicule as a defense is that it is also my greatest weakness.

If you strip everything from someone. Anything and everything that they find value and joy, not just figuratively but physically, what do you have left?

Me.

You end up with me.

Except the only thing I had left in the worst moment of my life was my name and that was being torn apart as I sat with nothing left. I realized that this was the moment when most people would take their lives and simply be remembered as a sad story. A moral to scare insolent children from venturing out too far. The "you don't want to be like them/their child/him". I was my own after school special. Ha......if you asked me then if death was a mercy I would tell you it wasn't. And yet with nothing left but my name and that being sullied I had not choice but to take a step forward. It didn't even matter the direction. Just that I was moving forward in circles proved to many that I was still swinging. Back then you physically seen me as how I feel then and sometimes today. As someone said that there are moments when I'm beside myself. This is why.

In time, I've realize that I because the joke of the cosmos although my religious self called it God's Joke. And yet there is something in me that I still have today. Something that will strengthen me, push me, drive me, and make me move forward and give me patience if that movement was only inches: Rage. An anger took me. An insolent, disgruntled, and dismayed feeling that some would equate to tossing me off the mountain to see if I would claw up in survival. Well, I survived. I survived when only my rage fed me. I move forward when my anger was the only thing that kept me warm, safe, and in some sick sense positive. In the matter of over a decade I've finally arrived at the point when the act of me breathing is a huge "fuck you". I've made it and I've sacrificed anything and everything to get to this point to prove to others who have abandoned me in worse and have consoled me in mockery that I can do it.

And sadly, I am still angry. I'm angry to the point that it's killing me. I'm angry to the point that it's my primary feeling. I'm angry to the point that every other emotion is derived from anger. This is why I could not keep friends long. This is why I have a shelf life of two years as a lover and even as a father I could not console out of tenderness, but another manifestation of anger. I have done things with my hands that I have nightmares still and yet I can tell you that I done it out of survival, not as an excuse, but as explanation of my sickness. I am angry to the point that every breath in and is chaotic fuel for some change and entropy. It am the embodiment of what Rage can do for you.

And yet, I am very alone and I accept it fully. I know that swinging this weapon takes as much or not more from me than anyone else. That my anger kills me more than you would know. That my introverted ways comes from my own fear of hurting those around me if left too long around them. Like nuclear fuel, I feel spent and need to go away, even now, from those who make me happy because I feel I will in some way harm them. That my very being would bring chaos. It's not something that I take lightly because I've seen it time and time again. It's easier to pull away from others than to rick hurting them. I do what ever possible to make sure that, even if it means leaving them for some times when I'm the most happiest. I fear losing what little I've somehow managed to gather in this life.

And living many times in solitude I have the strength now to say I need others.

If you watch closely as some of you with keen eyes have already seen this anger does make me self sufficient, but there is a deep sorrow that dwells in me. A sorrow that proved the hardest moments that no one is going to help. No one is going to save you. The Calvary does not exist.Superman will not turn the planet back for you. You are nothing but a shrug in time. You are worthless. If someone dropped you as some spare change, they would not bother picking you back up.

I am not worth the trouble.

That is the feeling I wear all the time. I am not worth the trouble and no matter how you show me, tell me, or prove it to me, from what I've seen the majority of life I, as a human being and as someone who is trying to make life a bit more ....I don't know....I constantly feel that I do not have any value in this life, place, moment. I know my blood is valuable and can save lives. Take it. I know that my hair can help small children hide their sickness and offer some chance to normalcy. Take it. I know my body can do good while I'm here and that I can change the tide for others who may need someone to help them. I'm there. I have always been there. I stalk the human dumping grounds and pull people up and move them forward in hopes that they never need me or anyone else again, not using anger, but the belief that they are valuable. It's why I love you, you reading this now....I love you.....I love you so much that I would give what I have to make you feel loved.....so that no one else can feel what I feel, even if my love comes from my anger......or hurt....or sadness that I am not worth anything. Just because I paid a deep price, why must I leave others to suffer the same if I can just give a little bit more.

And that is who I am. Disposable. Unimportant. Worth a shot and then tossed aside. No one has ever came after me when I leave and I don't expect that they will, even if I look back stupidly. I'm used to it really, damn me to what ever hell you can find I'm used to it. I lift these banners high, with what pride I can muster if only to say I have some pride, as worthless as it is. I do not make attachments, because something disposable do not have that privilege. I do not make future plans because I've had moments, razor at hand and then smiling in the sun. I can not make many promises that I can not deliver under a small amount of time, because I am not promised tomorrow. I know that something may happen. I may fall somehow, and as happy as I am now I know real horror and despair that I know that I am more than capable to take my life and know that this works against me just as using anger to exist. I know I do not have a future and not only feel guilt for living this long when others I've lost could have had another day, but I know I'm in overtime. I know when I should have died. I know the moment and the second when I should have not been here to write this. I write this now not to justify my exit, but to let people understand why I struggle now and will probably struggle forever. I do not want to leave you with questions and I do not want any image of myself that is not true.

The truth must be exposed regardless of how it may paint us. And I say now that I am greatly flawed.

I didn't want to leave you thinking it was ever you. Any of you. I just struggle at times with something so much more greater than myself that I do not take our small times together for granted. I cherish it as the starved eat every grain of rice. Small sittings with nothing said may seem dull to you, but I savor them as my last taste ever. I love our meaningless moments and yes, even our misunderstandings and arguments. I'm sorry and I want to make amends quickly because I don't want to leave you in this state.

And so, with all of this I actually realize that my greatest windmill is not just existing or reaching some milestone, but to be happy.

Can you imagine me happy? Well, I have been happy on and off for  the past 5 months. It's in a way my last revenge: to actually live well. I know. It's backwards. I'm saying this because if something .....horrible.....happens, it's not because I was "sad" or "depressed' but struggling with surviving. I don't want people to cry that I am gone or that put a sad label on me that I was just hellbent or "lost". I want all of you to understand that I'm fighting to be happy. I'm trying my best to sustain myself not on sadness, worthlessness, or ever rage, but joy. I want you to remember me as someone who did everything in his ability to be happy. Even if I fail miserably. I want you to know that I'm happy now and I'm growing this little ember of hope as if my life depends on it, because it does. I'm gambling everything to make this work and if I fall to far I know I won't be able to get back up. I'm treating this as serious as it feels.

I've actually worked on my smiling muscles to hold a smile for a minute straight.

Really.

You should be proud of me, not sad because I'm going to hold it for two minutes next and then one day I'll forget that I ever had a problem with my face hurting when I finally smiled and then I won't look like I'm having a stroke.

Do you know how sad it is not being able to smile? That actually made me cry.

Well, fuck that. I may feel worthless, but I'm going to make my smile priceless.

Someone made me realize that.
It helped alot.
Alot.

.....

*smiles for a minute*

So yea.....see why I couldn't find a song to go with this?

So, yes. Even if I'm smiling at you, I feel worthless. I feel my anger at a low simmer that can boil over in times. I have the strongest feeling that if someone has to go I will vote myself off before giving others the idea that they should vote someone off. I am disposable and can withstand hell and suffering like no one you meet. And with that damnation I seek a kind of salvation that my weaknesses and fears can only offer me. I help those who need it, without thanks. I give what I can and will go hungry if possible. I rally others forward because I have no inner strength for myself, but all for those who even think about faltering. I cheer the loudest for you because I know what it's like to not only be cheerless, but also boo'ed.I know what it's like to be despised, hated, and feared. I'm a sacrifice that keeps on living and giving. What's not to love?!?!

ha ha....yea.....that's topic for another day. Not today. I don't want to hamper my happy too much. Just enough to let you on, but not today.

Ok.....I'm actually tired. I'm going to nap. Please don't commit me or have another fucking intervention. Spend time with me. Do what you always do and that will keep me happy. Do not do anything out of the ordinary or you will make me feel funny.


I'll leave you with this because.....why not? Hope and all.

"The antidote for 50 enemies is one friend" ~Aristotle 

You know who you are.

Thanks.

*goes outside and sit in the sun to fall asleep*