pain – Chewing On Glass

Be Anything You Want to Be

We all have something to distract us. For some t is things. Mountains and mountains of shit with no apparent meaning. For others it is sex. One if not the greatest distractions there is or could ever be. For those with this affliction, they have yet to experience one of many types of accidents. Whether it be STDs or even worse pregnancy. After either one of those horrific resolutions though sex becomes just becomes a meaningless distraction as what they were trying to avoid in the beginning. It isn’t the sex they crave it is everything that comes with it. The power, the chase, the distraction because is that the essence of life? To avoid actually living it. Anything to avoid having to go through life would be ideal.

Working nine to five, too much life. Taking the children to school, too much life. Killing oneself literally, figuratively is a sin. Whether you believe in a higher power or not. This distraction is a sin. Unless of course you do it in moderation and drag it out. Life has a purpose for you, not God. These ideas are radical in every sense of the word. Why though? Why must we have a purpose? How could everyone ever have an honest reason to live? These questions escape my brain. I have no answers only more questions about things that don’t matter. Am I lost? Sure, who isn’t anymore?

I have yet to find my purpose in this life. Though I have found more distractions to occupy a lifetime. Some of which have caused me more pain than pleasure at this point. Not sure how to go about erasing past sins, past regrets. I can only hope those affected by them forgive me as I look for my purpose.

A burden lifted off your chest
Placed in my heart
A space I called for you
Now nothing more than a rotten corpse
It will take time to understand
Understand how I feel about your betrayal
A denial I refuse to believe
Though we’ve all known it is true
Things will never be the same
We’ll try but we know
This is the end to all that we know
No going back, I’m done, caught up with you
Trust is something that should never be believed
Trust in no one because someone will let you down
Everything in the past has been our future all along

Waiting for the last piece of me to die…

Everything is not okay… but there is nothing that can be done that hasn’t already been tried… There is only so much we can do in life and trying is the biggest one… Nothing wrong with that… At least we can say that we tried…

Amazon… Threadless… Shit, I have to say can always be found right here… Hope all is well…

5 Words I Like and One I Hate… Faggot

Vicarious, kaleidoscope, duality, but, and nihilism. Well, that was easy and now for the one, I don’t.

No one can remember the very first time they hear a word. I thought I did and I was wrong. This was intended to be a one part story, but it quickly turned into a two-part story. One I will have to tell in reverse. As I was saying no one knows the first time they hear a word, but they can remember when the first time a word impacted them. Faggot is one of those words. The first time I heard it. The first time I felt its impact. I was walking home from school.

I was in the 6th grade so maybe all of twelve or possibly going on thirteen. There I was minding my own business walking home on the side of the road. At the time I lived in this tiny town in Illinois. A farming town not far from St Louis. This has nothing to do with anything. I’m just setting the location of the incident. Don’t be fooled ignorance can be found anywhere on this planet. Walking through the grass on the side of the road when a car of teenagers drove by. One of the assholes screams faggot at the top of their lungs.

The sound of his voice was enough to lock this memory in my brain for a lifetime. At the time I didn’t even know what the word meant. What he meant by it. But I didn’t need to. The word itself was enough for me to know it meant something awful. So vulgar in its delivery. Slammed into my face as though it had anything to do with who I was or what I was doing. I didn’t need to know that it had anything to do with being gay. I didn’t need to know that word’s meaning to know that I never wanted to use it.

Being young, being scared, being confused by this strange and awful word I began to cry. I ran the rest of the way home with tears down my face. My mom recognized something was wrong as soon as I entered the house. She went into to full-on mother mode. “What happened? Are you okay? Who do I need to kill?” It took a moment for me to get it out. I didn’t want to say it let alone hear it again.

“Some kids in a car called me faggot.”
“Well, are you?”
“No.”
“Then it doesn’t matter. Words don’t have meaning unless you give them one. So some assholes called you a faggot. They are assholes. You gave them the power to let them hurt you. All they were trying to do was hurt you and you let them. People are going to say horrible things. They might even say them about me. Doesn’t matter unless you let it matter.”
I stopped crying.

That’s the thing about words. They don’t really mean anything. Placeholders for a feeling, a thought to cut like a knife. But no one said you had to let them cut you. I carry that message with me every time someone tries to stab me with their vulgar, easy exit words. I hear their bullshit attempts to piss me off and I laugh. I’m the biggest faggot on planet earth. What else you got?

Part 2

Words have a way of haunting you even when you think that they don’t. I said and I thought the first time I heard the word faggot was when those kids drove by. Maybe that was the first time I thought it impacted me as a person, but during the writing, I realized it wasn’t. I thought about just forgetting the whole thing. Thought about pushing it back down like I had for most of my life, but why should I?

Digging deep into the back of my mind. The first time that the word took something away from me was when I was a child. No idea what age I was. I could ask my mom, but we don’t talk about that time of our lives. It was during the reign of my mom’s second husband. The dark times of my life. The times I try to forget, but the memories always come back up. Stories for another time possibly.

As a child, I was really into gymnastics. No idea why, but I was. Maybe I saw it on the Olympics or something. My mom signed me up for classes and away I went. Every Thursday I got to learn something new for my new passion in life. Until one Thursday my mom couldn’t drop me off for my class. So my stepfather had to. Had to take some precious time out of his busy schedule of being an asshole to drop me off. Looking back after all the shit he put us through it doesn’t surprise me what he said when he picked me up and an hour later. “Did the little faggot enjoy his gymnastic class?”

I cried. He hit me like he always did. “Toughen up.” I don’t remember much after that. I know that I didn’t go to any more classes. I know that my mom always wondered why I lost interest in it and I’m sure I wondered, just like I do today, why I didn’t say anything.

If you see something… say something… If something is happening… say something… I know the hardest thing we can do in this world is ask for help… I’ve lived through it myself… My mom got it the worst… I don’t blame her for what happened during that period.. but I do wish she had asked sooner… No one deserves to be abused verbally or physically… it is not normal and it is not okay…

Get Help

Anymore

The nights grow darker and the years get longer. The longer my nightmare stretches the more I know that I am not alive. Everything is the start of something else. I can’t think of a worse place to live. Yet I have to stay. The heat it lingers throughout the night. The nights have become my life in more ways than one. The isolating darkness takes a hold of my soul, of my life. My will is dictated by a sunless sky. The stars they shine bright but I don’t care for the moon or the stars. A backdrop to my existence.

I don’t miss the sun. The more I think about it. I don’t know what I miss about my life before. I don’t know anything anymore. A vampire in a vampireless world. The impending joy of anyone who talks to me annoys me more than I care to explain. I wish things were different, but if they were I would miss how they were. My I don’t care attitude is all I have become. It has consumed me beyond anything I recognize anymore. Consumed me body and soul. I no longer care as I embrace what I am becoming. The blood flows and the heart pumps, and that is all anyone cares about.

Feelings only make this harder than it needs to be. I do this to myself. I do this by choice. Things could always be worse. Things could always be better. I could live a normal life even at night. Laziness is all this is. Self-loathing is all I have left. Some part of me still exists in here. In my head. I try to strangle it. Put it down, but it only comes back once again. My life is my will and my choice. Do I really believe this or am I just trying to justify the circumstances? I’m not sure what I believe in anymore. Is there a God?

I am no longer sure of that either. I’m not sure if I ever believed in such things. I guess by now you could say I am an atheist, but what do titles every really mean? We give titles and labels to things that don’t matter or need them. Above all things I am human. What that means anymore is lost on me. The days are nights and the nights are days, and I am more backward than when I began this path. Anymore everything is not what it means. Happiness is nothing more than an idea, a trick of the brain, and I can’t fathom happiness on the happiest day. I can barely hang on to an idea for longer than I need it. I use each thought to get to the next one and before I know it I have forgotten what it was all about.

The idea is to be myself but I have forgotten who I am. A name, a person, alive in less ways than one. How much longer until none of this matters? How much longer until I become an idea long forgotten? I once cared but I don’t care anymore.

Update on last month… So I never got around to my proposed piece of 5 Words I like and One I Hate… Well, I started it and then I realized something about the word I chose… So that opened more wounds than intended… I will be writing more about that, but needless to say, it changed the whole piece I was working on in my head… Hopefully, I can get to it this month…

I’ve entered some stories and poems to a few literary magazines and publications… Inspired by my friend Eric… Couldn’t let him hog all the rejections… so hopefully, that pans out… Probably won’t know for another six months, but I will keep you posted if it actually happens… More so if it doesn’t… haha… Which means that there will be some Friday story reposts… Deal with it Fox… : )

Still peddling my wares over at Amazon and Threadless… click the links for more info…

Dictated but not read…
Ambrose 4/4/18

Too Big To Fit With The Rest

This was supposed to be with the very first post for Lemonade and Glass… Then it grew too large to shove in there… so I was going to cut it down… Then the shooting happened and well that didn’t pan out… two months too late…

Cruci-fiction In Space by Marilyn Manson (Glass)

Holywood was a pretty amazing album as a whole… just about any song on there is one of my favorite… I chose this particular track because of the haunting and spacey music… I also think that this track blends the overall concept of the three album concept that Manson was working on… I think Manson takes on a lot of shit for his image and music… I had the benefit of not being subjected or shown a lot of what Mason was doing until after the fact… Told Manson was the most god-awful thing… the devil… made it something I had to check out when I was finally able to get my hands on it… It became for me a forbidden secret that I was a Manson fan… Which in retrospect was pretty fucking hilarious considering my parents had no problem with me listening to Cradle of Filth… who literally have a whole concept album about Lucifer… nor did they have a problem with me watching violent horror films… or playing violent video games… What can I say the late nineties and early 00’s… music was the evil of the day…

Manson I think was something else… and what that was, was exactly what he wanted to be… Manson tricked America into giving him power… If you really look at what he did… he didn’t do anything… that was what was so crazy about Manson to me… tearing up a bible?.. Any rational Christians should be smart enough to know that the message of Christ is in your heart not in a book… I mean if you want something to be angry about… Who prints and sells the bible for a profit?.. Then there was the media and political lead crucifixion of Manson over Columbine… Again America put him up on the cross… Not the actions that took place that day… still having issues with gun control… school violence… bullying… in America today…

If you actually listen to or know of the concept of his three biggest albums… It tells the story of a rock star transcending to the point of something more… an Anti-Christ Christ figure… Told in reverse no less… The concept to me was the most interesting thing about Manson… his whole narrative of how America creates celebrity… creates a monster… was fascinating… to not only listen to but to watch play out….

Since I have attempted to write this post yet another school shooting has taken place… Yet again the media is to blame… Not the actions of the shooter, but the media that drove him to do it… It’s been over a week since the latest tragedy and I have yet to hear anything from the shooter… One interview where he is like I did this because of this or I was influenced to do this because… However, We have had a rather interesting escape goat worth of responses as to why this all happened…

We have all this blame on mental illness… We have a problem with mental illness in America and maybe the world I’m not sure, but mental illness is a very vague term… again we want to go on the defense against something rather than the issue itself… guns were the problem here yet again… mental illness may have played a part and probably did… but having a mental illness doesn’t mean you are going to shot up a school… in fact, all it means is that you have a mental illness… guns shouldn’t be available to anyone with or without a mental illness… Check out Falling Down… a movie about a normal man pushed to the edge of his mental limits… a movie about a man who can’t take any more… completely normal yesterday… lost his damn mind the next… how do we stop him?…

How do we use these new proposals to end gun violence against someone who hasn’t been broken yet?… It is not as though you check the guns out and return them when you are done… again we let children die and again we will fail to act… Really hope John Wick 3 is bloody enough to justify the next school shooting or we might just have to start getting rid of teenagers because we sure as shit aren’t going to get rid of guns..(Lemons here… yep… I will be crossing my fingers for gun control from down under… )

a lifetime for it to make no sense… we bleed the martyrs dry and wait for the next one… we say we care but have we ever?…

Felling Sorry For Myself Once Again

Hoarder-home

I’m a collector of many things. Things I like, things I don’t need. Legos, toys, pens, pencils, notebooks, trash, books, thoughts, words, and the list goes on. I don’t do anything with this shit. Stare at it as it mocks me. Stare at it as it reminds me of why I have to what it is I have to do. Remind myself when there is time. There is never any time. I can’t sit still long enough to make time. A million things going on at once and not a damn thing done.

A process I’ve cultivated for no reason at all. My hands can barely get out the words. Broken and hurting from all the work. A thousand cases in three days wasn’t enough. A thousand reasons to not give a shit flooding into my mind. What am I here for? Why do I waste my time? I’m here to serve and I do it just fine.

Two days off and all I can think about is work. It doesn’t think about me. So why can’t I stop? None of it matters. Every day I step into this place. None of it matters. If I just said fuck it. They’d hire someone else and move on. Maybe it is time I do the same? Never wanted anything they are offering. The money sure we all need some form of it. Health insurance? I’m there so much the only thing kill me is them or myself.

Could be worse. Could have to hunt and kill my own food. Make my own clothes. Build my own shelter. Invent my own vices. It could be worse. I could have to learn how to live.

For those of you paying attention… I didn’t get to my post 5 Words I like and One That I Hate this month… I have a draft, but it is shit… I was going to post the draft… Release it from my mind… But the story I want to tell is a story I want to tell… So next month… give it some more time… Ran out of time this month… Work is dragging me under once again… hints the post today… If I can’t give you the post I wanted… at least I can give you the excuse… It seems as of late that I am full of them…