People waiting for me to leave a closet that I never was in or Tell me why are you not Fucking...

*The following is a satirical view of things that have been said to me, a collection if you will. Names and identities have been removed to protect the identities of individuals as well-meaning as some are, really have to fucking business in what they are asking. Enjoy and if you see yourself here.....yea.....can you stop that shit. Just an idea*


Hmmm.....how to start this one. This one is going to be fun, but I realize you only have one introduction and as many ways as I can start this I can not help to think I have to choose one.

So here we go.

*coughs*

People are really interested in me fucking. They really want to know who I am fucking. I mean, they want to know details. They want to meet people who I have fucked. They want to know outside of graphic details for some, or at least I think they don't want to pry that much, on who I'm fucking. I mean, people fuck and they fuck at a suitable frequency that they want to know you are fucking. I mean, if I was fucking TOO MUCH or what I like to call My Twenties,  then that would be too much fucking. I mean, seriously....why so much fucking. Can you just hit the showers? Can you not fuck too much. I mean, if you are fucking too much then there is an issue, no. Too much fucking is bad as not fucking at all and there should be a reasonable frequency of fucking that will keep you under the radar and just no the talk of the moment.

So no, I'm not fucking at the moment. In fact, this will be my tenth year not fucking. I KNOW! How time flies while not fucking at the moment. I have been celibate, a fancy term for not fucking, for a decade now. And I know its confusing others that I'm not fucking and they must understand why I am not fucking.

Is it because no one will fuck you. No, I have had, have, will have plenty of offers.

Is it because you did something REALLY KINKY that prevents people from wanting to fuck you. No, contrary to popular belief, Im really vanilla, but I do like to please others. A lot, so usually with plenty of consent given and a long talk, Im usually, key word here, willing to give into the desires and needs of others.

Is it because those slutty womens will not fuck you and they embargoed you getting fucked so now you am the mads and have to teach these feminist womans to fuck you or they will all pay! See how stupid it sounds and no, not even close.

Is it because you are secretly hiding an affair or fucking on the sly and don't want people to know cause SCANDAL! No, and you should watch less tv. I've had moments where someone did offer and are in a relationship and I said no. Even a few in open relationships and I still said no. It has alot to do with my....

Is it because you are part of a secret fuck society....NO and stop. Jesus, I mean seriously, stop watching tv!

Then what can it be? Why are you not the fucking. Unless......OH!

I will support you. I believe in your gender choice and or life partner gay thing. Huh...

You know its ok to be the faggo....um...gay, right. Its ok and I will support you. Wait where are you going with this.

I know some cute guys who will fuck you. You like twinks. Bears. Daddies, like you. What do you like? As long as we know you like dick we can get you plenty of dick. No. No, thank you.

But I mean, if you are not fucking women, you must like men...or men who are the womens...or women who are men who are women or that thing I saw on FOX that......STOP! Seriously, stop and listen to me. I want you to listen to me once a fucking again to why Im not fucking!

Then you are gay. No.

But you support the LGBT and many more. Yes.

But you are not the gays. Come on, you really care about the gays too much. I also care about the homeless, runaway teens, the environment, bees, and just not being a piece of shit to others, but it doesn't mean I am any one of those in the community. I have gay friends. Trans friends. Asexual friends. I have Bi friends I care about many people, but I don't have to be one of them to care about them.

And you want to fuck them..No, are you not listening to me.

AH, you are an ashamed homo! No.

YOU ARE! *sighs* No. My first kiss was with a boy. I was 6. I didn't think too much of it. My first kiss with a girl was when I was 15ish. That was awesome to me and I knew I wanted more of that. I knew at an early age I was straight, but it didn't matter to me cause I was busy being a kid and figured if it did come up then I'll be ok with it and such. In fact, you can say I was a late bloomer.

So...wait...Im confused. Are you not gay. Never was, am, and as far as I can tell, not going to be.

So.....wait...never ...... do you find others attractive... No, I found men attractive as much as I found Transwomen attractive. Attraction is natural, but it doesn't mean desire. Im sexually attracted to a certain type of woman and oddly enough my taste have branched through the years, but that doesn't stop me from noticing a man is attractive as much as a woman is. I can pass by and look at something I would not eat at a buffet, but have no desire to eat it. It can be nicely prepared and even a thing of beauty, but it doesn't mean I want it on my plate or want it taken away from me and others because I might want it alot. I like what I like and what I don't I don't. Doesn't stop me from saying what is attractive or not.

Wait...Im confused...did you just say you are gay. Im not gay. Just going to have to believe me. And if I was Id still be celibate because my celibacy has nothing to do with what I find sexually attractive.

Ok, then why are you not fucking, Why...

And it took how fucking long to get here.....shit, man.

In truth, a decade ago my social life was....chaotic. It was abusive and unhealthy. It was really bad and I knew I need to do something about it. The easiest thing was to stop having sex and to remove it from the equation. It did make my life easier and I realize I had a problem. I assumed all relationships were as bad as mine were. In fact, I realized through some of you that your relationships were healthy and I knew mine were not and was not normal. So I stopped. I had a long series of abusive relationships and I didn't want to be abused or even become abusive. I didn't have boundaries and it caused me hell.

In the past decade, I have worked through a lot and even Crazy Doc understand why I am celibate and if there is anyone who wants me to start fucking, it would be her, but oddly enough for the right reason. In fact, she's not fixated on me not fucking. Shes fixated on my lack of trust with others and that I can not place myself in a vulnerable position with anyone even if I was in dire need of help. I don't see myself as a person. I don't see myself as a valued person. I don't see myself with needs as a person and if I do not work through that I will only return to the harmful effects that caused me to be celibate.

I fear any form of intimacy because intimacy was used against me.  I can not repeat this enough. I'll even make it simple my love was used against me to hurt me and others around me and Im unweary in doing that ever again. Because someone caused that cycle I have been used by others. I have been mistreated and even led to believe that this is what love is. It's something nice with a side of abuse and emotional scarring.

That's why I went celibate. I didn't want to continue that cycle and I wanted some control over my life and the easiest thing to do was to shut myself down as a sexual being and just eliminate that out of my life in order to get things on tracks. Its why my therapy is now poking this bear. I've worked and healed so much that now I have to face why I am celibate and attempt to believe that there are women, yes I am attracted to women, who are not abusive or manipulative. That I CAN have what you all have, a healthy relationship void of abuse.

So....can you understand why Im not fucking...

......Id fuck you....you know, if I didn't think you were gay. Unless if its a threesome, then I think I can get down with that....that would be hot...

*raises hands in the air and walks away*

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.

Aversion to Adjectives and Acceptance in Amending them to Adverbs

I always have some difficulty when starting these out. Not for the fact that I do not have much to say, but I always fight a constant and nagging feeling that no one really cares what I'm writing about. I guess this is why I usually wait for the most interesting of moments to share, the kind of moments where I'm given advice from sex workers, climbing through windows, and having to hold someone's hair while they expel all that demon hooch that they have ingested in a guise of being absolutely fine. Oddly enough, with this writing exercise of getting to a minimum of 1000 words and learning to write frequently I"ve come to the point of not spinning a story that pulls people to attention, but more of the random thoughts that I usually share in small confidences only to hear them declare I should share things such as this.

This week is only halfway there has been odd in some way. Once more I'm going to spout a given that should be known that I am odd when it comes to social interactions and cues. I don't understand anyone hitting one me, complimenting me, or even going out of their way to speak to me. Not only do I carry this belief that I'm not worth the trouble, but I honestly believe that it's better that I am left alone. Considering all the work with Crazy Doc I've learned that I have in some way walled myself off from such interactions that do not place me in a position where I offer a service. I'm all too familiar that I see people who I do not know as someone who wants something from me and I want to keep that as blunt as possible. Ha.....if you're thinking that this was the advice from the sex worker, no it isn't. I wish it was, but no.

Yet every now and then new people do squeeze their way into my life even if I do my best to keep them at bay. As antisocial as I can be I can not hide that I have a good cluster of people after more than 10 years had held on and made sure that I could not shake them off, much like a dog with fleas. These people are valuable to me, more than others and oddly enough some friends made their worth more in pulling in people of greater value than themselves, not lying, who I trust more than anyone else. I've always worked with an almost militaristic, mafioso form of loyalty with those who were closest to me, a loyalty that I had in the past had to end if only to survive. I'm not one to shy away from a me standoff for a greater principle of friendship, but I have a strong sense of dying stupidly that keeps me from making my last stand over things that I find so frivolous.

Yea, that's over.

And yet, I am amazed at people and the confidences they have with me. In this week, people close to me have puzzled me with things that I have difficulty in seeing myself. I don't have an image of what I am that I've been told is healthy. It's a mixture of a huge monster with a loud roar and bravado to make most cower, even when I'm simply trying to lay low. The other extreme I'm small and unseen. I'm hidden and I slip through crowds of people, even when surrounded by my companions. A survival reflex where large crowds are simply a dangerous thing if only an ingrained instinct gained from the One Time and people who see me as a threat in their mind built up by people who'd would shoot me on sight. Not healthy. It's why I"m always on the defense and move. I don't enjoy parties or festivities and if I do, someone has to make me comfortable enough that only alcohol has gotten me in the past.

I guess it's why I enjoy house sitting. I get to uproot what weak roots I have and pretend to be someone else. It can also be why I always give another name when asked for one that does not demand personal information, think coffee, although I'd sooner connect that I have issues with remembering names, numbers, and small important information that is not drilled into my head in practice. Yes, I have forgotten my own phone number and name. It's awkward, but then again I live in awkward, hence why I enjoy uprooting.

Being someone else, sitting in a cafe with the laptop out and simply trying to blending in, if not hide. I simply want to see if people will rally the townsfolk and light the torches to chase me out of town. Somehow I build up a persona with known places that may be attached to any legend and only with decades amount of time do people forget me. A small corner, warm coffee, and time alone to people watch helps me build up enough of an immunity to being outside and is needed, yet without it, I at times forget how to go outside and would rather remain in one place and stagnant.

And yet people close to me shock me at times. They want my time. With them. Sharing time and a moment, usually with food without asking me for some great task that I'm always used to. Sometimes they just want me near and I am almost bothered with this. I don't understand people not wanting me in a role, or in a position, or even doing something. To have people accept you as you is a hard idea for me. People who can put me at ease is already hard enough, but then asking for nothing in return can seriously fuck my head. It confuses me. I'm used to being used, but used for me where is not being used? Why? Because of me? Then who am I?

Why me and who am I to you? That's the question that hurts me.

I don't know what people see in me and it's confusing as hell. Every now and then I get snippets from people who think I'm this or that and the adjectives puzzle me because they are usually connected with people with enough confidence to take advantage of those adjectives. I've been called the following, "buff", "sexy", "engaging", "entertaining", "life of the party", and even "amazing", not for the actions that I do, but in reference to the noun and I am that noun.

"That's sexy."

Um.....it's a push-up.....I can see that, but it really focuses on your core.

"That's Amazing"

Oh....this.....took a long time to work on and I had to work at it, but you can do this too.

"Lifting that makes you look buff."

Oh......huh, really? I just lift to lift the things to lift.....you know....like your couch.

"You're so funny. I love hearing your stories."

Yea.....they're hilarious now, but hey if you can learn something from them.

I can deal with that. But I as the noun? "You are _______."? That one is as confusing to me as string theory.

In truth, my work has been trying to build up some sort of persona that isn't ENFORCER or MUSCLE. Even REPLACEMENT. I don't really know what I bring to the table in truth and usually know that if you give me enough time I will master something, but before then I look as if I spout chaos. So.....yea.....just something that I'm trying to understand. That concept of accepting the adjective as a noun instead of making it an adverb. I can be THIS if you give me some time, but I don't think I AM THIS.

.......does any of this make any sense......because it doesn't to me....*Sigh*

1,309 words in 45 minutes.

Things that I will never understand, but it's most likely that I am not human and have the social empathy of a potato.

1. People who want to own a piece of another person's clothing

I'm going to be blunt. I've slept with a good amount of women. I've shacked up with a smaller percentage of them. I've done laundry and I even broke up with......all of them and I have to say that I have never been drawn to their clothing. I have lost a great amount of clothing to women and if I ever get something of theirs I usually give it back or it gets tossed into the bonfire. As close to any of this, I enjoy waking up next to someone who I've been in a relationship and cuddling close and smelling them. I enjoy their smell. I've even enjoyed how each of them taste. Yet keeping something of theirs and smelling it, even when we are done? NOPE!

Even less when online models offer you certain pieces of clothing for a price. So....yea.....nope. You'll never find any "mementos". It also relieves me of any embarrassing moments if someone discovers a purple rhinestone bustier.

2. Love songs, especially R&B, sound either desperate and needy in a stalker sort of way or self-degrading. 

I know the chemistry of love. It's the worst drug to be on and the hardest to be clean when it takes so much time to finally feel yourself once more and you realize that relationship was a train wreck to begin with but you ignored it because body parts, infatuation, or you have been "pinning', read stalking, the other person so long that your shrine is taking one a bit of a serial killer feel to it. Sorry, I have felt affection and caring towards someone else, but they have never been my oxygen or my one and only because I had many ones and onlys. If anything I realize I stepping into love in the same manner that one steps in pet fecal matter, you always wonder why you were not paying attention more. Love songs never help afterward unless you're trying to find the most easiest way to end your life. 

Once again, I do not claim to be human in any way.

3. Children being perfect because they're my little blah blah blah

No. Stop it. This is why we have sociopaths and monsters. You are not raising a dolly or a small child or a [insert your own sickening mind rotting baby talk, because you either do it, you fucking, monster or you have heard it, alcohol helps]. You are going to raise a human being who has to carry on your family name and have to deal with other people. I say this because I attract the human version of garbage and when they get too close, usually stabbing distance.....not even fucking joking....I have the scars to prove it, I always wonder if they had parents. Yes, yes they did and they were shit not because they put out their cigarettes on them or used them for bowling balls, but because inserting them a concept of how perfect and amazing and incredible and individual and what other bullshit you tell them you also have to remind them that they are one fucking person among billions and to have some human empathy because if they had some then they would know not to be human garbage and maybe I would not be in therapy!

Seriously, fuck you. Raise your future human right or I'll start calling you out now. I won't name names because that will tip you off and give you a head start.

4. Saying hello is not flirting

I am a whore. I am a complete whore, tease, and I play hard to get. I have been seeing multiple people for the 30 years. I make people feel good about themselves and yet I have never at least offered to finger/handjob them because I am a whore. Do not believe me that I have only been polite enough to you to prevent you from realizing that I am just a trauma away from being emotionally dead. Never believe me that when I say, "lets get dinner" that I am not banking fuck points because why the fuck would I ever spend time with you unless it's to bend you over and fuck you hard or to tease the fuck out of you like the shitty whore I am, remember I started out saying it. I'm actually just teasing the fuck out of you and fucking everyone else. I mean, you seen me say "hello" to others. I'm fucking them. A lot. A good amount of fucking. And then we laugh at you and how I am teasing you and not fucking you. We laugh and we fuck some more until you realize you have to break up with me because going for three meals after work is way too much of a commitment and always lead to fucking, but I'm not fucking you, remember? So why invest in other people unless you are going to bend them over and fuck em so good......so good.....

There I said it. Now your hunches are confirmed. Leave me alone now. I just wanted to say good morning to let you know I need the nondairy creamer and you're in the way.

5. IPA's are the new shitty beers because we can't have something nice unless we saturate life with it and Coors decide to make their own.

I get it. It's bitter and has a bite. Nice. 

And yet it's fucking everywhere. Like Coors. It's to the point now you're flavoring it. Like Coors. And making interesting bottles. Like Coors. And if offered everywhere and all the time so that there are nothing else besides IPA's......and Coors. 

"Can I have something pleasingly red and warm with a hint of bite?" 
"No.....we don't have that, but we have 105 different IPA's......and Coors".
"Oh....can I have something dark, bitter, and thick with a thick foam?"
"Um......we don't have that, but they make a coffee IPA!"
*waiting for it*
"It's made by Coors!"
"Can I have a nice Hefeweizen with a slice of lemon, please?"
"Um.....ah......I don't think we have that IPA."

Stop it. Stop it before you ruin it all......like Coors.

The Conversation I DO Want to have with Some of You what Think I Need Someone.....

Some of you: Oh, you found someone! That's love and you finally have it! This girl with the stars in her eyes! This is how I found [insert their significant others name] and we'd been happy ever since! I'm so happy you met her! Your life is SO going to be better now that you have found someone!

Me:......

Some of you: You found someone, right? Going out?

Me:......

Some of you: You .....wait.....*reads post again* ......oh.....you haven't met.....wait.....um....I kind of jumped the gun.

Me: ......

Some of you: Um....gee....your.....your life means something......your life has worth and value even without being in love.....

Me:......*still looking at you*

Some of you: ....so you won't change your profile photo to a couple's photos.......and you um......hmmmm......this is awkward....

Me:........*not letting you off the hook*

Some of you: .........I'm sorry......it's ok to be an individual.....

Me: *makes that hand motion that tells you to keep going*

Some of you: .....and your life isn't meaningless if you're single.......

Me: .*motions*

Some of you: ........and you are not an incomplete person......

Me: *motions* 

Some of you: .......and not everyone needs to be in a relationship.....and that just because my definition of joy does not mean that I have to impose that on everyone.....

Me:*motions*

Some of you: .....because that's bad.......and insulting......and it's also not realistic........

Me: *smiles and rings a bell. Picks up a small cracker and tosses it to you as a reward*

Some of you:.......can......can I go now........please?

Me: *nods*

Moral: Don't assume I'm not happy. Don't assume I need someone to complete me. Don't assume your happy is mind. Also realize I just shared a glance, not a future, but a glance.

Transforming a Stumble to a Running Start or Get Off Your Asses and Get Back to Work!

Tried to write. 

I got nothing. Not only because I have nothing to say because I said it, but because I have nothing at the moment. I am at a loss of anything creative. I'm in Damage Control mode.

I'm busy thinking, questioning, listening and trying to take it all in so that we can make a plan rather than blame one group, unfounded fears, or just moving in the wrong direction. 

I don't have much to express. I'm a bit lost at least in my head. They say there were two types of Samurai. The one who mastered combat on the battlefield and were drenched in the blood of war and the other who studied Zen, wrote poetry, practice methods of combat, refining what they know and trying to understand the working of politics. 

The change from Jitsu to Do. The change from Action to Practice. The killing to sparring. The change from War to Peace.

Well, I'm not very poetic at the moment. I'm not in the mood to project thought to reach, inspire, and cause reflection. I'm not that person anymore. I'm not the one who can relax. I'm not the one to be positive, optimistic, or nieve. 

Life has already beat that shit out of me.

I'm being proactive. I'm rallying moral. I'm reaching out to those from losing hope. I'm speaking with Kids who will vote in two and four years for the next set of elections. I'm demanding people who are busy bitching into becoming diligent, not lethargic. Reminding people that politics is not a chachki that you can just set and forget, but something you have to diligently monitor and speak out constantly. Just because you like Bernie doesn't mean you can let him handle it. You have to keep in contact with the people you sent. 

I'm not interested in poetry. I'm not going to paint. I'm not going to write wax philosophically. This is not the time to lay down and give up but to start mobilizing and minimize the damage.

This is not the time we give up. We must remember the train wreck of the Electorial College and know when we have the upper hand we must change it. There are not only better systems of voting, but they've been modified to prevent such disasters such as our. And much realize if the table were turned people would be speaking up for the Electorial College. Damn it, it cost democratic two elections in 20 years! Get on that shit!

Vote for people who we want. You love Bernie? Why? What was it? Can we multiply that? Can we speak louder? A third party isn't needed in presidential elections, but smaller ones to grow the base. You can't just jump into it, but foster it and grow it from the grassroots. 

We have two years!

I'm going to hold you, us, all of us to that. We have two years to change things and we need to step up our game. It's easy to blame, but damn it we must not. We must analyze and keep planning our next step. IF we win, we plan our next step. IF we lose, we plan our next step. IF things go well, we plan our next step. IF we won and have nothing else to do, we plan our next step. This isn't fucking Disney. There are no happy endings you did not work towards. Even with our work we will fail. That means we push harder until there is no chance to defeat and we push harder until we always win and then we push harder until it's a humiliation and WE REMAIN DILIGENT!

Fucking hell, people. Wake the fuck up, take responsibility and let's get to work.

We have two years and I don't know if that's enough time.

11/9 or the morning after...I'm not in the mood to make puckish titles.

I woke up around midnight to the sound of helicopters. 

Considering that I have to now adult and get up at 5 am to hit my commute as many of you know I must got to sleep by 9 to be functional. Yet, I was awaken by helicopters and also a realized need for patience. Returning from the bathroom I woke up my laptop and silenced the youtube rain vid that I use to sleep and calculate my time asleep. Insomnia can creep up on me at any point and I more than know I need to be diligent no matter what. 

Always diligent. 

It almost felt as a roar from the outside as if everyone in Lynwood was reacting as I opened up my browser and was notified immediately that Trump won. On a distant tv, I heard him walk over to a podium and announce to the world how this moment has come, we must all unite, and we must bury all hatchets. He offered words of reconciliation and of moving on as people cheered. 

Meanwhile, media exploded.

*coughs from nervous reflex*

Burners cheered and blamed the DNC. Anyone not cis recoiled into the fear, shock, and awe of the moment as many of their loved ones announced that Trump is a good thing and they are happy they voted for him and they'll see, it will be all right. One friend responded by asking, "You voted against my rights?"

You can almost feel the heartbreak in her words. 

I was too busy. I was already there. Already prepared.

welcome back

I continued and prepared. In fact, I've been preparing since before Trump mentioned his bid to run. 

I continued on as my messenger exploded with so many people wondering. So many of them fearful and anxious, trying to get hold of what was going on. What can they do? Some already declaring that they were done with this nation who shows no love for them and only the back of their hand. Others pleading with me, pleading as if I can do something, anything to make this right. 

I haven't heard from my children yet, but I'm guessing they're already prepared for this. They have my eyes. Cold, dead eyes of something that most people have not experienced and have not seen. A knowing that hell exists and it is tangible and it comes from the hand of man using scapegoats to avoid responsibility. I'll hear from them soon, but we are already working. On it. We move while most remain stunned.

Always on, you're always on.....that was our agreement, no?

My motions were automatic, yet there was a new system involved: a body clock telling me I have a half hour at best and then I must sleep. I have to adult, I have to get legit, I have to at least go through the motions to redeem what many believe is my potential and path. I notice the clock and agree and continue to read, look up, and by the end of it all, I know enough. I know what I can do now, what needs to be done soon, what needs to be completed continually. 

I don't pray. I've seen too much. I don't scream, I've done too much. I don't plead, I experienced enough. I don't hide or cry, I know it won't make things better. I move while returning to where I once belonged. Where I live now. Where I am the best at what I do best.

You see me.

I take note who needs the most support and tell them I love them. they need to hear that. Many are close to falling apart. Their chances to be normal almost being released by their own will rather than having them tugged at. I tell them I love them, as I tell them now, as I tell you. 

I love you and we will get through this. I will be on the Front with you in mind. I refuse to go easy and I will fight for our lives. I will not let them win reluctantly. If need so I will make their win bitter. We will get through and we will fight.

I try to believe my words. I try. 

I see you. 

I say try because I have to put in work. X always said you have to put in work and you have to put it in now. DMX of course, not the cult. You have to put in work. When we hope for the best it's because we hope we don't have to get our hands dirty and work. We hope we don't have to. We almost plead with this concept of humanity that allows us to continue on. This spirit of kindness and greater good in which afterschool specials are made of. 

Don't be a bitch, get to work.

I write this now with time in mind. I have to adult. October has been kind and magnificent to me. I've accomplished much. I pulled myself out of any safe space to challenge myself to reach out to you, to humanity instead of prepping for continual Damage Control. I've lived in this state since the 90's. It's my second nature. It keeps me on my toes, looking over my shoulder, always sleeping light for that hard knock on the door. 

We see together, outside and on the same side, where you belong. 

I'm used to Damage Control. I lived through Pete Wilson. I lived through Reagan. I lived through W and regressed so much because so many of you were not prepared. I have no choice. I have had a target on me since I realized I was never included. I had decades of enduring. I've scars that I'd never explain and memories that only a bottle can numb. I'm going to therapy and I'm trying to live, not survive and that in short only makes me want to work more.

I've come too far to stop now. And if I have to drag you bastards to protests, I will. If I have to lecture you to be vigilant, I will. If I have a few more scars by the end of this my only option is to hope they mean something from them, but reactive, but proactive. I'm not going to remind you of what is in risk, who is endangering it, and what we are fighting for. 

You should now that by now. That and no one will care if you give it up. They'll take it from you regardless. You either fight for what you love or you give it up and live with that. Either way, we will live with our actions, as I've been stating before I will rather live with the ones with me on the Front rather than standing by or hiding. 

Fuck that.

I've already paid my price. 

Yes, yes you have.

I ask you to put in work so that you don't have to pay yours. 

I'll see you on the front. We will not go quietly.

Peace and Love
Continue to be good to each other. 

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.

Understanding the Biological and Physchological Remifications of Therapy with Consideration to After-Effect Deviant Sexual Arousal or Everything about my own lust that I was afraid to admit and even recognize

*sits silently and tries to find a way to cut to the bone and get to the point while sipping creamy java. Take a deep breath and breathes it out*

Ok....follow me a bit, because this is kind of hard to speak about for me and it's even worse considering all the innuendos and double entendres. I'm going to be an adult and those of you who know me well know that I'm not one to act like an adult so...yea.....this is...har......difficult. This is difficult for me. 

*deep breath*

There among us are certain people who you can't help to be extremely comfortable with. These are the individuals who for the lack of ceremony and pompous tactfulness for its own sake make you as comfortable. You right now have friends who you will speak to at times of difficulty and others who you simply want to enjoy their time with. There are friends who have seen you at your worse, moments when you wish time was reversible and you could have done something to change it all. They are the ones who find you, pull you up by your love, as Cindi would say, and hold all the broken pieces inside of you until you feel that there is a bit of reality left in your life. We might even ignore people who are trying to help us as our legs tremble under us as we try to take on another onslaught alone. They embrace us, becoming our new spine and whisper in our ears that we are fools to do it alone and that they do care and they will not let us go. 

I love these people and for a better understanding, they are important to me in more ways than I can say at the moment. I will sing their praises and exclaim how their love and time, including 9 months of Crazy Doc, allowed me to do the most difficult of things imaginable to me: Depend on another person. I can rant all day on this and I won't since this is not the topic set to mind. I want to speak about something a bit more......personal to me.....

*takes another deep breath*

I have this friend that I love immensely. I can not begin to say how much I love them. I adore every bit of her and meeting her has greatly helped me in many ways. This person is so amazing to me that she not only embrace my brand of insanity and mirth, but she revels in it. I do have friends who dip into my insanity and many do even submerge themselves in it, yet there are those who choose to take a soak into something they plan to get out of once their time of enjoyment is over, much like a hot tub, and others strip themselves of all restraints and clothing for that matter and jump in fully. 

These individuals who I have been so lucky in my time to find not only one, but a whole line of time to time. Sadly, many if lucky find them and drop instantly to knee and offer their lives to these people. I instead give freely and take freely and see no need to restraints. It frees us to find others who best will fit our lives in those moments, leaving each other in special categories that almost transcend family bonds and not so quite as intimate as lovers. It's almost like finding yourself in a crowd and realizing that they are your missing piece and you hold up your own odd piece that never fit you, but fit them so perfectly.

So I mention all of this because I know some of you will find insult to what I'm going to say or that you also will are willing to sit with me on these difficult moments. Mind you, I did not share with you either because I'M not comfortable, nothing to do with you, but a limiting factor in my own mind where I need outsiders to freely cast judgment and tear apart any part of my thoughts that is incorrect and I will allow it. My ability to make so many changes were not hindered because I didn't have you to help me, but for the fact that I didn't trust you to help me for fear of somehow tainting you with my burden and madness. I had to find an outsider to tell me what many of you have said and even screamed and lecture me on. So I hope you understand. It's not that you are not valuable to me, but that I could not trust myself to accept your assistance. I'm working on it. I'm in therapy. 

Yet, this individual is an outsider. I trust her with this because in my head it can not affect her. You'll see in a minute. 

I've spent the whole day with them last week and not only did she make me comfortable in approaching her about this, but she almost made it enjoyable and ok. It was as easy as it ever was going to be to mention this to another person even before I mention this new can of worms to the Crazy Doc and I haven't either because there were bigger fish to fry (remember October was HUGE for me) or I somehow kind of denied it until I've seen enough evidence that this IS an issue with me. I simply floated it to her since in a matter of going to have a meal I was asked about the health of my prostate, told to stay back since they farted and were rancid, our favorite sexual innuendos when referring to food, and how we both deal when someone BLATANTLY hits on us (She "Pretty Girl" it and assumes everyone is as nice and kind as she is while I immediately deny that it's happening and even help them realize that they're making a great mistake)

And while driving back, it hit me.......a rush of endorphins hit me, not in the adrenaline sort of way where I'm going to have to vault over, punch or throw something, but in a lustful sort of urge. Some of you have seen me have these lately. It's unnerving and even a bit scary to me. I get quiet, a memory usually comes up, I smile and my heart races, and worse of all I get that stupid feeling....the one where I am more than willing to do something stupid, not for the fun of it or to make others laugh at the moment, but a needy, carnal sort of feeling. 

I'll be honest, I've never had these. Ever. 

But you say, "Auggie, you Magnificent Beast and Specimen of Grandeur and Awe, you have an almost vast sexual background. You have been part of situations that many would not only envy, but simply one would be a cherry on top of the sundae that is their existence! What you have not participated in is either inhumane, illegal, or the last abomination unto our Lord!"

To which I have to stare at you and kind of nod my head, almost reluctantly. True, my first kiss was at 6 and my first kiss with a girl was at 13. I was married at 16, divorced at 21, and basically experienced hedonism until my late 20's. I've been several roles and even remembered a few. I have more stories of "Oh Shit, NO" than most people. That and I always adhere to rule of "Nothing before Previous Discussion" and I have to say I'm pretty much accommodating to anyone who I'm intimate with. 

That said, at least more than half of the "interesting stuff" was surprised on me, often time while in restraints. It's the reason why I despise Cosmo and not having a discussion. I've have been in many parts an unwilling participant in a lot of this. Other times, I now realize that my lack of boundaries has been used by individuals who were more than willing to make me into a "plaything". Some of it.....I kind of still repress just for the fact that there was no trust. There was no consideration for me. It's something I'm still trying to come to terms with. It's part being in a cult that has an almost extreme puritanical view of sex that is immensely harmful. Another is the fact that sometimes I trust people to be what they say they are and before I know it the conditions and terms changed. 

Then there was the last time.....that.....that was painful. That fucking broke me. That just was the last coffin nail to just deaden me inside. The entire 9 months of work with Crazy Doc is basically trying to reach what I boxed in inside. To do so, I needed to learn what boundaries are and to create them. Most importantly it's a method of learning to trust again. I honestly don't trust. I don't trust anyone even if they are beyond worthy. I don't put that trust in them because I had trusted many and they took advantage of that for their own purpose. It's the kind of thing that I end up questioning how someone could do such a thing while trying to ignore the obvious answer of "because they wanted this". 

It still fucks with me. That someone would use me. Not the USE part, but the idea that one WOULD CHOOSE TO. I mean, I don't sleep well at night if I was short with anyone or if I gave them the idea that I was anything but kind and happy with them. It still fucks with me that people would treat others that way. If it is anyone else, I will get furious and want to slam people through walls. If it's me....it's....a shock.....I mean...why me? What have I done to you? How do you know I would not have helped you willingly if asked?

*deep breath*

So, yea. I have trust issues. I've always had them. I've always repressed feelings and the such. I've embraced going numb the past 10 years and even working myself into a smaller and smaller box away from even those who I care about for fear of harming them and worst fear of them harming me. I can deal with the shit of the world, I just can't deal with the malice of those closest to me. Even the concept of sharing a bed with someone who has the potential of tearing me apart frightens me. It's why I watch couples, regardless of what they look like, gender, socio-economic background. They have something in which I have either broken in me or simply missing. I can not get around that anymore. It does fuck with me. 

Ok....enough background. This is not my topic.....and I should not try to get away from it. 

So, yea.....I've confided in my delicious friend what I've been recently been dealing with. That out of fucking nowhere I get these....lustful moments. These waves of arousal that just "takes me hostage", as a friend might say. It could be a memory of a moment, a woman walking by, an ad, just anything that reminds me that I have been celibate for almost a decade. And somehow I don't have the ability to shut is off, down, or out. It takes me and I have to use every bit of my will to just not focus on it. I'm not talking about personal moments or behind closed doors. Kind of difficult when shopping for potatoes in a busy market. Two days ago, it was a woman's vanilla perfume in the elevator. It was difficult to focus and to say enough, difficult to walk. 

Is this puberty? I don't think I've ever had these puberty moments. I mean, is any of this normal? I'm not talking about grabbing people or being blinded by lust, but just the "all systems go" command that has me realize that even though time has passed that my equipment is beyond ready, willing, and able to rise to the occasion. No, seriously. This is awkward when walking in exercise clothes, but business casual? 

I've never had those moments when you just had an erection "just because" as a teen. Then again, I was sexually active at 15 and I don't think I've ever wasted one. Now....yea....I'd have to say that my celibacy is on shaky grounds. 

"Well then, Auggie, you viral and conditioned stallion, why don't you take all that pent-up vitality and start having sex!", you declare quite loudly enough to frighten children and swoon the more delicate of individuals. Yea......about that. Not only do I have reservations about just being active for its own sake, but I have this odd quirk that no one would believe me in having. As much as I would love to "cry havoc and let loose the dogs of war", I just can't have anonymous sex. Like as in physically can't. As in, I don't work that way. Oddly enough, after much reflection, I've come to realize that the moments that I have intercourse I'm either taking things slow, after the initial conversation of what is and isn't allowed and such, where it's ......*needs a moment*.....fucking capital.....I'm trying to expand my vocabulary here so that my blood flow continues to go in the right direction, since I've more than understand that writing with lust very much hinders the thought process I need to make sense......

*deep breath* ....ok....

And the other situation has been when the conditions have changed. These are the moments when I'm hanging out with women (yea, sorry. Still CIS here. My first kiss might have been stolen by a boy, but it didn't do a thing for me...why yes, I'm a one on the Kinsey scale) and we're "friends" on a couch, watching tv usually or laughing with a drink and somehow things blank out for a second. One moment I'm watching Battlestar Galactica and the next I'm in an odd place....what changed....wait...what's this again....tongue.....whose.....wait...what....how....what's happening....that was my shirt....what's happening again....huh....wait what......oh...OH....OH! Wait....are we still friends?

So....yea.....that happens. I can honestly say that these moments usually don't end well in the end. Usually, I get an "it was a moment thing" or "I was drunk" or even "it was a mistake". 

*sigh*

Yea, I built enough of a defense system to make sure this doesn't happen, but fuck doesn't it just take a little bit out of you. 

So...yea....that's the issue in the whole and as cleaned up as I can manage. Am I horny as a toad? Immensely. Should I start having relations? Indubitably! Am I? That's a whole lot of NOPE! As much as I'd like to I'm going to have to be a bit more celibate until I can keep up these boundaries and know what is healthy and what is not. To say that I don't trust myself is an understatement. I've been making immense progress and the last thing I need is to make a mistake. Or get into a relationship that is just going to be another train wreck. So I'll just find my way of letting off steam once again by sneaking exercise until I'm exhausted (come on, why DID you think I worked out that much.....duh) and maybe Crazy Doc can help with something or can work his magic in pulling the crazy out of me and such. 

I'm making great progress. I am. Yet.....yea......you know what I mean. So...yea....new experience....very awkward....much blush....

So...yea....

Oh, you're probably asking why my delicious friend is an outsider in this situation? Yea......well, she's in a very magnificent relationship with someone very dear to both of us, different scaling of course. And thankfully we have similar tastes in women with some differences to make our conversations lively and hilarious. So yea, who else to trust than a friend you can check out someone immensly attractive and fist bump afterwards. I know, objectifying women and such and that's none of this. As much as I love to embrace my 15% and realize that a woman's outfit is spot on and gorgeous with her, I can also embrace the 85% by stating that said woman is stunningly radiant and worthy on taking a chance on speaking to with the great chance of reprisal and disappointment. Also, those rare 100% moments where I switch from "wow, she beautiful" and "her shoes are to die for". 

Never disrespectful. Never without consent. Never what Trump said. Fuck that guy, he's rapey.

So...yea.....there....that wasn't as difficult as I thought it would be....still.... I need to buy better slacks.....for the hiding.....of me....so....yea.

Apathy or I don't have an alternate title, just meh.....

Waking up from the couch I reach over to the chrome book and turn off the youtube vid. The entire house is pitch black and I have no idea when it is. I still feel the pull from sleep and I just want to know enough if I can close my eyes and keep sleeping till 8 am. The pressure in my bladder convinces me that I shouldn't go back to sleep and I should evacuate my bladder. I once dreamed that I was in the bathroom and could not urinate. Thankfully I woke up before anything bad can happen and a bit annoyed that my dream would even get me to attempt to let go my bladder. 

After regaining my patience, I walked over to the kitchen table and found The Matron curled up in my usual spot on sleep and at peace. There was a time before the dog when she would at least attempt to sleep near me wherever she could, yet the dog being yappy and a bit of a dick always tried to go for her tail despite knowing that she would slash four across his eyes in any attempt. I still think he thinks it's a stupid game in which he has no idea how close the cat is to teaching him a very serious lesson. 

I feel a bit of remorse when I turn on the light overhead and place my chrome book next to her. She utters a small protest in which I mimic and sit in front of her. I used to study in this same stop for 9 hours straight for the majority of the week. At times being the only person at home, she would seek my nearness and lack of effort to constantly pet her even if she was far more adorable than she probably deserves to me. She rises and does that funky stretch that always makes them look as if they're going to launch themselves into space and our dance of salutations. She rubs against my face as I also seek her side. It leaves a lot of fur on your face and yet I always do so considering I'm always counting her days and have lost many a feline friend in the most stupidest and cruelest fashion. 

Always give love when you can, even if you can't collect. The act of giving is often more than enough. 

We get into our positions. She with her rear pressed against my machine and I tapping away with this at the moment. It's only 8 pm and I feel that I should have been much more productive even though I'm suffering a bout of stuff in my throat and apathy. Much like the pre-cold, it sticks to me until I can gather enough warmth to loosen it once more and chances are I'm not doing anything productive, much less pro-active to pull myself out of it. These are the moments I feel anything close to loneliness. When I'm feeling a bit less than what I'm constantly told that I should feel and there is no one around to pull me out. There are small moments when I do break down with a text to someone asking them to lie to me and tell em things will be alright. Almost immediately they respond in cheery manner and ask if they have to come pick me up. I already feel bad about asking for affirmance, I'd hate to make them come get me even if I don't need it. I know if something does happen I can have a small squadron moving towards me and there have been times when I refused to participate and simply sat outside to see them arrive. Somehow I gathered a magnificent collection of people who would do this, even if I'm the last person to ever say they need it.

I pulled a bit of sweet potato from a steamer used and start eating it without desire. I know it has to be something since I have no sense of joy. I can not understand if it's physical or mental and at times I don't bother questioning it despite how I DO question everything. The Matron demands a bit more attention as she  rubs me close and almost begins to lecture me on my appearance. She immediately begins to bathe me, with muttered meows of how I should have done thins myself. She continues to apply affection on my arm halting it from writing and even gets me to rub her a bit more. Funny, is there any other animal besides cats and dogs who find joy with you rubbing their face? It's all odd and I pull away to get to work as she utters more complaints and how I should not put myself through a few more hours of tappy tappy grr grr or what I call trying to write. 

When I tell people now, I'm really trying it gains me some new pause. They can actually see I'm trying and at the moment I'm trying to fail upwards rather than away. Right now I realize that I actually had plans to visit a close friend. I think it would have been enough of a break through to even want this rather than try to not go because MEH. Yea, once again therapy has pulled down walls I used to protect and hold me in and now I realize much to my surprise I want to see people. I want to spend time with them even if MEH has me by a death grip. I limit my time, sure, but I want to go. I want to be around these people I can't fucking get rid of this point.

*looks towards the fucking elephant in the room and lifts his arms in to declare defeat, walks over to it, and punches it on the fucking trunk again. That's how high I can punch it, it's a fucking elephant*

I'm going to make myself look even more fucking alien than before. I'm going to make you wonder what the fuck is wrong with me because I have to get this off my chest and if I don't it's only going to weigh me down and drag me back to old places and depressing thoughts. I'm through with that shit. My new goal is to fuck myself up in new places and make more of a fucking fool on how much I honestly don't know how things are. 

I'm in my fucking 40's, something I never thought would happen or arrive. I'm in my fucking 40's and I honestly know fucking nothing of worth. I don't know if it was because I was never taught, ever understood or even realized I'm part of. It almost feels as if I'm coming out of my cave of isolation only to discover a good friend waiting at the mouth of the cave waiting to give me a piece of their mind on ho much of an asshole I am for being in there in the first place. I get it, but I just realized there was an exit. Can I get that much? I know, everyone else knew, but I didn't. And if I had ANY ability to lie I would have come up with a better option then "I didn't know" because it's that sad. It's almost sad enough to go back in and close the fucking cave.

I mean, I just discovered how boundaries work and yes, Crazy Doc says I'm really doing well because I'm using that shit like it had an expiration date. I know people see me being difficult and believe I'm being so just because, but no. I'm really tearing up old shit that I was told years ago by some really fucked up people who needed a host to parasite to. I'm reviewing everything everyone has taught me about love and friends and I'm not doing it right. I have people who I'm friends with over 10 years minimum of trying to get rid of them somehow and each and every fucking time they pull me out of my funk and try to have me be people. That's shit is annoying and I've learned to live with it and they even learned to let me hide out, be quiet, and just be a miserable fuck if it meant that I would only go the fuck outside and chance getting shit on. Well, that just starting to change. I'm starting to feel I want to be outside. That I always felt being outside was never an option, but I might want to give it a try at least until someone yells at me to go back in. I don't understand it, but I am different. I'm more human as if that ever meant anything. It's not like I ever wanted to be less, but I want more. I want what's due and what I don't understand. That's what's driving me now, what is it that I don't understand that a person in a sunny bright room overlooking the graveyard can have so much immense patience with me and say, "no....no, someone misinformed you. You don't have to do that. You just have to do this."

I mean, I'm past feeling awkward at realizing I know nothing.

*looks right over to the same fucking elephant, now rubbing its stupid fucking trunk and smacks it another, leaving a very nasty bruise and wince. Mind you, it's imaginary and I would never do this to a living creature, ever, but for the analogy, you better be getting used to this shit from now on because I'm tearing all this shit down*

The very concept of love has been taught to me by people who should have been fucking committed. People who should have been committed as psychopaths who taught me that I need to give everything to people and that I had no value outside of a certain group of people being happy due to my actions. That my only purpose what to be the monkey wrench to certain type of people so that they can continue to tear themselves apart only to have them build them up again. To not try anything different and to remain hidden for fear of people discovering what I am as if there is anything wrong with it. That I should hold my tongue, take a hit, and know I am nothing. That I'm valued for the same attributes that make them want to punch me in the face for. That I should be their appendage, their piece of sanity in people form and holding them broken down should be a privilege and honor even if they had to get rough with me. In my really fucked up and naive start as someone who cares, I have endured shit that if I ever told anyone about they would recoil in horror, not only because shit like that happens but from now discovering my monotone ability to recite said horrific memories often has always chilled people into realizing I'm not really all there. That such a thing happening to anyone should tear them apart and my existence proves that some things can be survived, but the cost is a terrible monument to the uncanny valley of which I am a regular in.

So I'm always trying to relive interactions and moments that I could not understand. Now with this realization, I'm in shock that I don't fall into my own beautiful mind hell where I count the holes in the tiles, realize that I will never fit in as human and that my own action cause me my own injuries. The fact that I know this shit is real is just....surreal. I now see things that could have been said and done to prevent any of this. If I was ever able to walk over to little boy me, I realize that a long hour hug would have been a great start. Teaching him boundaries and what friends can ask for and what they can not. What love interest I should remain a distant acquaintance due to any red flag, that my own mind was my own and I had all rights to feel any way I could even if I could not understand it. That I didn't need to place the world on my shoulders, people are not all cruel or in need of something you have. That I can trust people and if they stick with my stubborn and goofy ass after 10 years they are family. That my family is the result of the twisted and sick effect of selfishness of others and the cruelty of no one standing up to them. That I would probably should keep certain people I've been to bed with as friends instead of lovers, that some people can not be made happy by my means and I must walk away before their self-inflicted misery infect me. Just because she has blue hair is not a reason to go along with her. That I should always keep a sense of humor because it will stop people from shooting me. That it's ok to hug your friends a little longer instead of pushing them off. That it's going to be ok once they understand what each scar had to teach me in my long train wreck of a life. 

That people will never understand and those who try to make any attempt to should be humored, but not given free reign to me. That it's ok to walk way. That it's fine to realize you need someone to stand with you only to help you say the hard things that hurt so much to say. That it's ok to call the squadron in when you are past your limit and let them take care of you. There there are good people in the world and you are not alone. That's its ok to cry even if you think you ran out of tears. 

*sigh*

Apathy is realizing no one cares you have just been knocked down. That your life is a bit harder than theirs. That sometimes you can't lift your arms to fight back because it's all you do and you'd rather get the beating because it will be over soon, just close your eyes and it will be over. That the Warm Jets never come. The calvary will arrive at your end. That even if you overcome the hardest thing you have even endured, tomorrow is another day and you have to do it again. It's knowing your scream will never be heard because no one has ever heard it and you just don't have it in your to scream anymore. It's crawling toward the impossible with the heavy boot of doubt pressed upon you. It's opening the yogurt that says, "Sorry, please try again" and noticing the yogurt is cheese. 

That's apathy. 

It's what I'm fighting now. There was a brief moment where I looked over my shoulder, more reflex than anything and noticed that the Abyss was no seen. Remembering moments where I stared into it when first opening my eyes for the day and knowing it was the last sight endured before sleep would take me. There were times I seen life within it and moments realizing I was looking at the world from the inside of it and not caring if I sink lower into it to forget it's maw all together. For a small moment in my existence, I was out and much like John Cusack, I scream now that I was out. I was for a moment of time out and it did not exist. Now, I see it near. I see it and I actually have the nerve to try to fight it again. Even if apathy whispers seductive and comfortable narratives to let go.........let it happen......I never had the chance......just give......up.....let ......go.......forget......being......free.....just.......walk in......and......give up.....

That how it gets you. You walk through willingly. You are never dragged through or deceived. You willingly walk in and sit. As close as you can get to suicide without killing yourself. Then it's just a matter or time and you just.....don't........care......

*sighs and feels eyes burn with new tears*

I just started doing that, you know. Crying. I just relearned to cry and not laugh. It's so fucking rare and I don't do it because it's so hard to stop, but it does happen even when I don't want it to. Yet that's there, I actually care somehow to realize this is just fucked up. That I was happy. That I could actually enjoy an accomplishment without any challenge or difficulty. That there no hoops to jump through and they're not on fire. You actually get comfortable and drop defenses that numb you so that you can feel again. And you know you're going to be hit badly if it happens, but you just want to stop being numb and you feel, for a few moments in fucking time you just feel and you don't care what it is as long as you can feel and you don't have to keep use so much energy and effort to protect yourself from things that never....

BAM!

...you stagger and you get that rush of adrenaline and fear. Your actions go into damage control mode and you realize that it happened again. You try to take understand of all of it and you just try not to let the fear paralyze you. You need to get moving and get as much momentum as you can before it can set in and you realize that this is not new and it comes back again and again. 

And yet, I'm trying to fight it. I'm trying to fight apathy. I'm trying to not regret that I got hit again, but that I don't want to be on the defensive. I'm trying to do something different. I'm trying to fight apathy and I don't know if I can, but I have to try. 

And that's where I am now. I'm just trying to fight apathy and see if I can go back to something else. Not this. I too used to this. I want to know something else, but not this. 

No ending. I really don't have one. 

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.

Running through the Dead City of Angels, Limping Pondering those, IF THEY WERE THERE

It was only just recently that the temperature has dropped at least 20 degrees below the humidity, that he decided not to soak his work out shirt before heading out. He wasn't too certain on how bad it was going to be and wanted some insurance that the humidity would not shut him down this run. He learned years ago that a humidity greater then the temperature was a most welcome boon when it came to running since the moisture would keep him regularly cool and he was not going to run longer than a half hour. Yet the past three summers have been unbearable in regards to running as to now force him to run 12 hours later at midnight rather than toughening it out at noon with traffic. Not only has his run times shortened immensely, but he soon realized that he didn't need to make his workouts hard on himself in order to feel as if he accomplished something.

That last part has been the result of 8 months of therapy with the only person he could trust fully considering that he had not horse in the race. Once he realized that he was punishing himself for his attempts at making himself a better person to appease hidden jackals who would just pounce upon him as much as they would breathe. As a result, he changed his regiment from running under the hot summer sun to running on empty streets occupied by the primordial roaches the size of shoes and an actual raving man muttering secret alphabet that would make Philip Lovecraft's xenophobic hearts melt.

He wet his yellow bandanna, the only thing he wore that was not black and tied it around his head, still wondering if he's going to regret not soaking himself.  At first, the bandanna helped keep his braided hair in place as she worked out, or at least it tried. Yet now with running at night and the need of cooling off with the humidity being a bother now being worse off than years ago it offered some cooling respite and often times he had removed it only to feel the once cold water turn steaming hot. Now with his night runs it helps to offer some visualization to prevent any harm. Even though he ran at midnight and cars were scarce he didn't want to find some rogue car running into him while he crossed streets that now traffic resembled places where the skyline did not blind the stars out.

Running in South LA, think Compton, Lynwood, South Gate areas, you have to resemble as much as what you want to resemble. Meaning that people usually expect runners at dawn or even mid day in parks and green areas, wearing all the paraphilia that would associate them with their past time so that most onlookers can understand that they are simply running, as in this case. Sadly living through LA in the 80's and early 90's, you honestly have to overdo it when it comes to skin color and area. In those years, he learned that sport jerseys were associated with colors despite how much you love the team. Even Raider gear in LA held an almost neutral color for Latino bangers and even if you have a mind of stats and records willing to share with others, it was best to not dress and be considered a person of interest. Sadly, doing so had changed from being unseen by the rougher element of your neighborhood to police. There had been an increase of black men and a few black women harmed by police and a few Latinos that the media are busy ignoring. So there were no taking chances. he will look his part, run on the street whenever possible while not distracting imaginary traffic, and even wave at them in mid huffing breath while approaching them slowly yet carefully.

Oddly enough, they had waved back numerous times already accepting that there is some sort of a lunatic running at midnight through South LA. It has always been a plan to out weird others into leaving him alone, and, as usual, if you can stun someone with confusion and awe before they can act it may buy you some time to survive any potential altercation. So he learned not to behave the same as others, but to stand out as simply being odd. That one guy that you seem to focus on for a moment before realizing there was no point. There lied safety.

Once certain with the prerun prep, he walked outside into a nearly slumbering night as he walked towards the main street. The majority of the people here worked long days and hard hours and would be awake once dawn became evident so there was no revealer walking about in drunken stupor or child birthday party that later on morphed into loud music with accordions, drinking from multipacks, or dj lighting. Everything was dead on the main street also, with shops here shutting down at 8 the latest and markets at 11. What remained of traffic were people arriving home from long days or even from class. Even the bustling coffee place on the corner that seemed to swallow up the street with idiot drivers making the most foolish of choices in order to order a coffee with chocolate in it and a reminder of life beyond "la Frontera". 

He waited at the light waiting for it to turn allowing him to cross as he noticed it kept cycling past him, ignoring his plea to cross and allowing the dwindling traffic to just speed by. He didn't want to cross the empty street out of some sort of respect of the rules, yet waiting two minutes for the light to change on an empty street seemed silly to him and began to cross, midway the light began to register his need for change as he arrived on the sidewalk with it finally approving his request of a safe crossing. 

Facing the now closed clothing shop, he began to stretch in front of it using his reflection as a reference. They just remodeled these shops here to have more visibility and view while running out previous business with a barber shop and this very trendy clothing shop that catered to one digit dress sizes with bulimia issues. The majority of the mannequins in front wore something ghastly and almost trampish, if he could still use the word in not shaming anyone's sexuality needs. Yet the clothing was awful and he wondered who chose to wear something so blatantly explicit without any coyness or even fashion sense. Mesh and even lace, as Madonna and Cindi proved can be a great boon to offer a tempting look of cleavage and thighs, but mesh boob window is a bit too blatant. Even Powergirl would question its purpose. So he nodded and would remark a good outfit on a tiny mannequin as a rarity while making sure limbs were in line with stretches and range of motion. 

He took a minute to find a song he could start out to as a cyclist whizzed by towards their destination. Once found, he raised his watch to read the heart monitor strapped to his chest to get a clear signal to begin. In a choreographed movement of years of running, he hits the mp3's start button as soon as his watch registered his heart rate all the while starting off his run. Tonight would be 4 miles. Since integrating these longer runs into his running he had seen an increase of stamina and strength. There was a time where half a mile would have him winded and even a time when TB took too much of his ability to even maintain enough stride to catch a bus. Knowing that running would always be his weak point, he militantly pushed himself to it while taking in data in order to analyze each run and the collective behavior. It helped keep his weight in check even before learning how to count calories and eat enough to support his daily efforts. No matter how bad it was to restart or how he felt each run was a waste he had enough data to understand that each effort, no matter how clumsy or pointless had a cumulative effect that always pushed him towards better. That his best run was an acclimation of numerous bad ones. 

Some runs were hard and taxing where he was forced to stop at several points to regain his breath and other where he involuntarily evacuated his stomach contents into a bush or curb. Some had him so exhausted that he had to shuffle the rest of the distance home. Yet with enough trust in his calculations, he always relied on his watch to let him know if his heart rate was too high or if he could push himself a bit more to max. Three years of this labor and he could trust how much he could endure and when he needed to take it slow. He knew when his heart rate would reach a false high and would drop back down before steadily reaching his max. Most importantly, he knew when things were wrong and when to stop even if he had to fight the urge to keep going. His obsessive data crunching and practice came to benefit him.

This was the start of a good run, even for a 4 mile. There were three main goals to each run: his first checkpoint, the 1.5-mile mark, and his sprint mark. The first was at the first corner turn and early into his run. Yet it determined how much progress he had made. If over 4 minutes, he was out of practice and would need to keep going, if less he was not only in stride with his conditioning, but it was a great predictor that he would cut his time by a few more seconds if lucky. The second was almost past midway after the first checkpoint and was use to determine his VO2max. He was aiming to at least 40 ml*kg/min as it was before, if not higher and a great assurance that he was in great cardiovascular health. The last was the last corner he would turn that left him with less then a 1/4 of a mile left to his run and was ran if there was anything left within him. Some days there wasn't and other days he pushed just a bit more. It was his way of making sure he gave everything for that moment. This was usually when he needed to evacuate his stomach. 

The first checkpoint was at 3:35 and was instantly amazed. He hasn't hit that time since three years ago and 20 lbs lighter. He kicked in slowly to make sure he continued his progress, holding back just enough not to burn himself out. If he was simply going for the 1.5-mile point he would have burned it, but 3 miles and tonight's 4 demanded pacing. This run had a light that normally would stop him for 30 seconds to allow traffic access to City Hall and the shopping center and library, but at this time there were no cars and he could simply pass it by or at least lessen the 30 second time. Afterward, his 1.5-mile point would be in visual proximity after the 7-11 and rounding the curb. It was exactly in front of the door to a convalescent hospital across from a catholic hospital his grandmother stayed before her health took a turn for the worse. They kept her too long and only released her when the infection took place and have her return days later. he advised his family to investigate and to speak to a lawyer, yet his family was too distraught to take his words seriously. 

He hated that hospital. He had his reasons and he hated that hospital. He notified friends and family to never take him there nor should they ever go. They left a bad taste in his mouth and every time he ran by if he only hoped the people there were being treated correctly rather than to let "god sort it out". His grandmother was healthy and even regaining her strength to walk once more when they took her in for an unneeded surgery that led to the end of it. They even begged for her children to "let her go" stating that she suffered enough, even though she would interupt the doctors and tell them to fuck off. Way to go, grandma, way to go.

Crossing the long light that shone green in the empty street it hit him. There was a small pop in his left thigh, almost as if someone threw a small pebble at him. Immediately every warning and alarm rose in his head as he knew he pulled a muscle. It was a ham muscle, not a hamstring exactly as he somewhat recovered from the awkward slowing and imbalance. He pushed on carefully to at least make the 1.5-mile point, but his thigh registered silently among the heightened amount of hormones and cortisol within him. He knew he could probably push beyond the pain and instead of a 4 mile he would do a 3 and it .....might be a good time. His thigh contested that assumption. His speed slowed by half as he took a few more steps to hit 1.5-milemile point and came to an abrupt halt. Stopping his watch and slowly trying to move his thigh in order to understand how bad it was and how much worse it to push that bit more. It wasn't great, but it ended his run. It would probably take him four days until Monday to run again. With that he found a suitable range to walk back and hoped that the endorphins would be enough to take him home. 

It was a shuffle at best. More than a zombie, but less than a teenager crossing the street while eying you to try and run him over. Passing by the 7-11 he noticed the Sheriff's car parked and even wondered if he should chance at asking if he could get a ride. They're supposed to protect and serve, no? Yet, the week had been marred with two more deaths at police "fear" and assumption that he simply decided to continue to shuffle towards home. He didn't have money to make a call and there were no phones on the street to make said phone call from. Even then, everyone had their personal phones now and they didn't have a LAN line for 8 years now and he could not remember a number if his life depended on him, which this was pretty much as close to possible. So he shuffled towards home down MLK. 

Well, it was a colder night. He was happy that he didn't soak his clothing for this run since walking slowly in this weather proved that his sweat was more than enough to drop his body temperature. If he was running this would be a great boon. Since he wasn't it started to chill him and knew he needed to hot shower soon. There were the moments he hated. There were the times when the imaginary Jackels would pounce from the trees and tear him apart. He was hurt and there was not much he could do, but shuffle. He always had this dread of being helpless. This feeling would only allow those who could not reach him before to set eyes on him now. It's why he originally would have kept running and been home earlier than this point while tearing enough damage to ensure he could not run for three weeks. He stopped only after much conditioning and experience that 4 days were better than a cane and 21 days to use it and still he wanted to take that chance despite of what he knew. 

In his experience, when you were hurt you were tossed aside. The lame animal trying to keep up with the pack with elitests prancing ahead. Sometimes they would slow down and mimicked concern and even pull it off if it wasn't for their plastic smiles and annoyed tones wanting you to "go faster" instead of realizing that this individual was already pushing themselves injured. He always stayed in back, called himself the tail and spent time with those who struggled with what seemed easy to others. He gained their confidence and trust and even told the same plastic smiles to fuck off and let them be. IF they need to run ahead do so, but they will not run faster because they can not. Few understood. Most make feign hurt and run off with their ilk. Tonight, no one would run back for him. No one will notice he is hurt and shuffling in sweat soaked clothing towards a warm house. No one will stop and he was more then used to this. 

This was his normal. 

He pondered on the comments of some articles, despite what people say about never reading the comments. He read them from areas such as Toronto and places in Minnesota and even armpit Texas which claimed the dead men this week deserved their execution simply because they could not find that ability of submission. That they died as the thug they seemed and not as the parts of society that depended on them. Blanket justification on how people with more melanin simply did not have the intellect to understand that their actions caused their death and everyone who faces off with Blue deserves their outcome. Some would respond in manner short of insulting them as what they are: bigots who have never ventured into areas where they have never been dominant in numbers. Places where anyone of color dread being stranded simply because the people of the area are the threat. These people simply laugh at any logic that questioned their behavior and simply stated "IF THEY WERE THERE" to every answer.

IF THEY WERE THERE they would have shot them down immediately. IF THEY WERE THERE they would have taught these thugs a lessons and respect. IF THEY WERE THERE they would have put some fear of god into them and teach them how 9 mm will reduce animals to nothing. IF THEY WERE THERE they would uphold the law and the right given to them by the 2nd Amendment that they will always side with Blue. IF THEY WERE THERE they would have challenged their Black Lives Matter thugs with the fact that Blue kills more WHITE lives then black ones. IF THEY WERE THERE they would teach these animals not to contest the WHITE MANS LAW and that they better get used to it because ONCE TRUMP IS president.....

...and about there is where one can not read any more. At that point, it's just a hair too close before someone calls them a racist and them feign more insult being that they are 'Merican and they this or that and you can almost see the post bleed in confederacy and only need Pepe to show his green smile in nazi brown. ONCE TRUMP IS always comes up. As if it gives people free reign to bring back the lynchings as they were before or the concept that somehow they had lost rights or even want it to go back where the nigras didn't kneel but did their little soft shoe dances that Paula Dean so loved. 

IF THEY WERE THERE weren't when the gang wars hit in the 80's. I was. IF THEY WERE THERE were not present to how congress condemned the people caught in the middle as almost savages instead of their own citizens whom needed help, who needed Blue the most. A decade had to have passed before people would not bother calling for Blue because they would not arrive or they would and the wrong people pulled aside. Blue increased their arms and aggressiveness as they stopped you, and questioned you not to ensure you were safe but to contest that they were the biggest gang about. Crips and Bloods and any other subsided only to have Blue as dominant. It's saddening that the "Stop the Killing" movement did not stop, but simply become "Black lives Matter" or any other group who realize that the majority of their youth were either killed or sent to prison rather than college or any other form of social advancement. Prison boomed. Military hardware boomed. Was it Blue or SWAT? It didn't matter since the streets became safer for Blue, yet worse for people. Maybe everything began soon after 2000 when the first camera phones hit the line. Perhaps it took photo resolution to improve for people to realize that Blue has a heavy hand. Rodney King didn't get assistance with VHS tape so perhaps Samsung or Apple are to blame?

 IF THEY WERE THERE never lived these streets, but boy, do they like to visit the area in order to get to Disney or Universal Studios. IF THEY WERE THERE have an idea of Baywatch and The Fresh Prince if there is a need for a more acceptable nigra, but people trying to make a hustle in Compton or Watts are no a blip. THEY, always THEY instead of the residents of or our citizens or even people, THEY need a better work ethic! THEY need to do this or that and act like this or that, never realizing that this community has been abandoned when the first dark people moved from across the river to these nice neighbourhoods. There historic neighborhoods regressed into Crenshaw or McArther Park or The Jungle rather than their worth. It would take a new generation of people to move back in and make downtown livable again. To make these historic places worth going once you priced everyone out. 

IF THEY WERE THERE people like their guns. They enjoy their insurance of safety and masculinity when people over here were shot many decided they didn't want them IF THEY WERE THERE people know that life is better with their gun because at any moment they realize something is not to their liking they can change everything with a trigger squeeze. You can stand your ground and state you had to. IF THEY WERE THERE would only take out their caliber freedom machine and pump rounds into the problem until the problem stopped moving. And if more comes they will continue to defend their idea of what freedom is.

All of this made him laugh as he shuffled the dead streets. He still had 6 blocks to go and it was already close to one in the morning. The irony of if he only continued to run he would have gotten home sooner weighted on him heavy. Yet he continued to shuffle without increasing the harm. He did feel defenseless, yet you could not talk him into holding a gun. He's been on the wrong end numerous times. Some by haughty fools believing it's instant power and others by terrified hands who simply want answers too scared to ask. Instead, he worked out, ran and looked menacing. It was more than enough back them. No one messed with you if you looked like you can deliver some damage. Yet, even when he was at his 128 lbs stature he walked some of the roughest streets through some of the hardest people and they moved or he moved. It didn't stop him and it didn't scare him. Outside of being at the wrong place at the wrong time during a drive by, he never feared the streets that were supposedly dangerous because they were his. He didn't feel the need to be badass because these were his friends. He was never one of the IF THEY WERE THERE people because he was here. Mind you, if he was stuck in the area of IF THEY WERE THERE people, he'd have something great to fear, but the streets were people too old to work who picked up cans for money and small children walk to school never put him in a negative light. 

He knew they were bad elements to people. And sadly they either got their worst in a pool of their own selves or in a prison. When they returned it soon because rare for those down with a cause to return to the life. They had kids. They had bills and they needed any prospect not negated to them to find work to make things better. Sometimes you see the old OG's and it's sad when they relive glory days much like Viet Nam vets did. They need a therapist not Blue on them. We focus on punishment rather than redemption and it made us to who we are now. People having to live with the IF THEY WERE THERE people waiting for ONCE TRUMP IS.

Once he was close enough he was able to see the seafood restaurant was closed for the night. It was more than a year ago when two large men walked in demanding protection money and leaving with the owner's life. Blue came when it did and nothing was seen of it. Why would it? People came out and mourned when I never been. It's mentioned now considering he would have ended his run in front of their doors. Now the closed building offer no sign of life. Even with the death of the owner it continued and it flourished despite of some act of monstrous selfishness. That's life here. Caught between a horrible act and Blue. Tomorrow they will make ends meet and hope for less of days where lives are taken. As for Blue? Why not pay for security instead of having the worse to come at a time they think it best. I have friends that are Blue. I find it sad. I don't know if they find it sad or if they are allowed to. Either way, this is how life is. No gang wars. No narcos or bald ethnic men shooting machines of murder onto the streets. Boring enough to confuse IF THEY WERE THERE people. 

Then again, darker shade of skin might just be all they need.

So sad.  So sad.

It was 1:35 am when he finally arrived and walked over to the kitchen. He swallowed two painkillers and sat in a hot shower until he was feeling warm enough to get out and flexible enough to see how bad it was. He slapped some ointment on the area and went fast to sleep. Tomorrow would be a new day and he needed to heal in a world where people made certain assertions towards places they have no idea and people they can comfortably state is not them so therefore not good.

He survived the mean streets with no weapon, injured and in need of warmth and sleep.

A wall.......people want a wall.