Formerly named, "No, no, no, I hate poor people."
Earlier
Nope. Not convinced.
Convinced everyone can be saved if they want to be? Yeah. Convinced that not heeding advise is foolish? Yeah. Convinced that the way desired by man leads to death? Yeah. Convinced I should go to rehab?
Nope. Not convinced.
Especially because it isn't rehab. It's a fucking homeless shelter.
Also, convinced that to mock the poor is to insult their Maker? Yeah. I'm sinful. I'm wicked.
I'm not going to go be around a bunch of homeless dudes in a shelter and have an ass-load of free time on my hands to do absolutely nothing with. Literally, as soon as I found out how much free time I would have, and that it wasn't actually a rehab I was dead set on not going. Fuck that. I might hate everyone around me, rejoice in the idea of an actual rehabilitation center but the fucking homeless?
Nope.
Last night in Church the sermon was about praying to God out loud and being alone while you do it. I gave it a shot today. Worthwhile. 10/10, would do again. It's healthy, really is. Thing is healthy things don't make you feel joyful or peaceful or, at least for me, that's the case. Maybe its because, as the Bible would say, I'm exceptionally wrathful.
If I were to go it would mean I'm forgetting the key part of this whole issue-
besides drinking,
-is me having a huge disdain for everyone. Or not being wise. According to the Bible, its not being wise. It's being foolish.
I'm also foolish for saying so much, or being simple of the lips.
I remember watching Steven (not the fag) become lost in his emotions. Regret, anger, whatever it was.
That's exactly what I looked like now. My hair had grown thinner and my face gaunter like his from the constant walking, the lack of eating, and the excess of drinking.
Fuck this, I thought. I needed to learn how to meditate and process my emotions properly again instead of drinking. Drinking would leave me looking older, having less money, being ugly, being depressed, being hungry. Meditating and processing and prayer, thought of scathingly, would keep me pretty, wise, and bountiful in my harvest.
Life is a fucking trip, dude.
I'd spent all day on Reddit r/NowHowDrugsWork laughing my ass off. I walked all the way to the Law Firm reading it, discovered the firm was closed, and then walked back to the library. I think I read the entire subreddit.
At that point I realized that my type of humor and more dirty, wicked parts of my personality would only fester and lead to rot in a homeless shelter. Like really, no. I need to be surrounded by better people, not worse ones.
Thou shall not judge. Okay well we do and if you don't you're lying. A fool speaks only to express his opinion yeah he does.
I needed to clean up my fucking look, my fucking mouth or dialect, and my fucking act to fit the whole good Christian, good father, mentally stable & financially stable bandwagon. Fuck it. Now it was a goal.
Now I was the underdog. I would be taking it upon myself to let Christ come inside me and change me from within and not relying on a FUCKING HOMELESS SHELTER.
From Amelia and Stefany's standpoint, I thought about them telling their friends or whoever the fuck they were talking to about their dad or baby daddy.
"He's a recovering addict living in a homeless shelter downtown fixing himself with the help of Jesus."
"He's a wicked scumbag drug-addict man-whore who is fixing himself with the help of Jesus."
As if it would be a surprise as to which one I chose.
I was reinvigorated by my rage against God (which I now knew would be forgiven as long as I repented from sin and accepting Jesus Christ as my savior who died for my sins), my envy of the righteous, and my anger and permeating strength to prove to Stefany and Amelia and everyone fucking else that I was capable of whatever the fuck I wanted to be.
Because really, even though I coveted those songs like "Drown" and "Don't Go" or anything else that implied the assistance or reliance upon another I didn't fucking believe it for one minute to be true, especially for a fucking white 22-year old male living in the United States. I would rather die believing I had the resources and vigilance to do it myself than fall back on anyone else.
Unless that anyone were like a nice, vacation-like resort away from annoying people except for the ones I'd get to make fun of in group sessions, and even then, that wouldn't help at all with the not-being-wicked-be-a-good-Christian thing, so no, fuck it.
I'd hit the jackpot of cigarette butts this morning before tossing all of them along with my lighter into the creek that ran the length of the trail leading away from the police station.
Not healthy. Not attractive. Not pretty. Not conducive to life. Done.
Haven't smoked another cigarette since and it's been six whole hours. Typically, if I'm not at work, that isn't a thing that happens.
I managed to smile at a few morning-walkers? (it sounded like a name for zombies) and joggers and croak out a couple attempts at hello or good morning (I honestly don't know which I was attempting) before praying to God out loud (before realizing a man walked not more than forty-feet behind me), "Dear God, who is in heaven, please help me with the whole hating-everyone-I-meet and the hating-everyone-I-meet-just-because-they're-walking-in-the-morning-along-the-same-path-I-am thing, I really need your help on that," and then cursing much quieter to myself that the man might've heard me.
Where the fuck was he going? He'd passed me walking the other direction, interrupting my prayer-sesh already once, and now he was coming back again? Fuck you, dude. It's fucking on, motherfucker.
Yes, that's how I thought. That's why I wasn't very out going. My smiles were the malicious bearing of teeth and my greetings were barked and shallow. I really was wicked, and I really had to change it.
Honestly, I kept thinking about Stefany. It kind of sucked, really, not as much as it did sometimes when I thought about her but It still really sucked because it was that feeling I'd had when people were slapping me into Stefany = no bueno mode or the like. Being a good Christian and a good dad to Amelia meant not hating her. That meant, by the definition of hate, Stefany = bueno.
At least I finally realized why everything had gone so wrong. I mean, even through everything I'd thought Stefany had done wrong, by the Bible's definition I was literally ten thousand times more dead, evil, wicked, welcome to Sheol, and in the rebellion against God than she was, and my life reflected that equally enough for me to at least feel,
As if I sat across from Jesus Christ at a game of Chess, and he'd just explained to me why he was kicking my ass so badly, and I had finally been able to look up and say, touche, you've got me, that makes sense.
I liked that feeling. I understood. Wise people understood. I wasn't very wise. I was contentious. Critical. Abusive and angry for the sake of being abusive and angry.
It was time for righteous change!\
Time to admit I was totally wrong in the majority of my opinions that weren't 100% objective/subjective (I don't know, unbiased?) or based off of the Bible, and to go read it, and come back wiser!
Now, 16:01 22 October 2017
15 minutes of Reddit, my guilty pleasure.
15 minutes of reading the Bible. Proverbs 19-22.
Okay, 15 more minutes of the Bible. Its relative. Proverbs 23-27.
Son of a bitch, the book is only four more chapters. Might as well finish the whole thing. 15 more minutes.
So yeah, I'm an awful person and everything I do leads to ruin. Also, I am a scoffer. I'm definitely going to have to come back to this book, especially all of it, because half of it was either too profound or too proverbial for me to comprehend on the first go around.
Whatever, back to me being me. I still can't smile without looking twacked out for some reason. The edges of lips twitch as they rise. I don't understand why. I still smell like amphetamines too. That probably isn't going to change for a while.
Kings don't drink, I took that from the last of the book of Proverbs. Because then they'd forget things and ruin everything.
Kind of like I drank, forgot everything, and ruined everything.
Badumtss...
I wondered if it was because my blood sugar was low. That would make sense. The no drinking definitely kicked a lot out of the wagon, too, because of the whole memory thing. In one way Adderall helped me remember things I'd typically blocked out but focused my thinking where Xanax allowed the thoughts and memories flow back and forth more freely.
Overdoing it on either end meant bouts of forgetting and space-out moments. Either way. No bueno.
Stefany didn't unblock me again until later that day. I can't blame her.
I felt bad for not picking a wife or picking her because of what I'd read in the Bible and just going off my own understanding. There was something about it is better to live on the corner of a housetop than in the house with a quarrelsome wife. I remembered living with her before and I felt guilty. A lot of those quarrelsome things were probably my fault, and I wish I'd have just gone to my corner of the roof instead of being contentious and wrath-some.
Beat me over the head with a two by four or a rod, Jesus. Go ahead, take a swing.
I wanted to ask J.C. for a suggestion of where to read for 'how to be a good person' or 'how to be a person in general' but I remembered the two bits I'd read about keeping your foot out of your neighbor's house lest he come to hate you and the scoffer is hasty with his words and is more hopeless than a fool in his folly so I just stuck to not saying anything.
At this point I decided I'd rather have peppermint extract in my eyes for the rest of my days than have to take the time dealing with this, but since the peppermint extract wasn't an option, here I am.
My dad had evil eyes or was stingy, or calculating in his soul. That's why he and my mom always had problems. To involve yourself in a neighbors quarrel is to grab a passing dog by the ears. My mom and dad were probably like neighbors. They forced my hands onto the dogs ears. Don't hate your mother in her old age; let her who bore you rejoice. Flunk and flunk.
I mean, at least I hadn't killed anyone, right? I promise that isn't foreshadowing. I remembered seeing a post on r/NotHowDrugsWork where someone said, "my homie wound up in a cell w someone who took 6 Xanax and woke up in jail with two murder charges and doesn't remember any of it I don't f w i fam".
Smoking weed wasn't an option. I don't know why it occurred to me to be an option in the first place but also until this morning and last night killing myself still seemed like a very rational thing to do. I remembered earlier in the day when I had to tell myself Jesus wouldn't want you to kill yourself. Not good. God wouldn't want you to kill yourself. Not honorable. Not commendable. Lazy. No bueno. Stop thinking that way. Stop that thought. Stop that. Stop.
Even when I was reading Proverbs a line hit me about ridding the earth of the wicked because when the wicked died more righteous ones rose and I was like BAM! Right there. There's my ticket out. I'm doing this for the righteous. Then, stop that thought. Stop that. Stop.
It wasn't easy last time, either. Almost three whole years ago, convincing myself every day to stop that thought and to think positively and excitedly for the future! I've been down this road before. It was the year before I met Stefany. So yeah, even though I was living off of my prescriptions, maybe a McDouble and some Sechuan Beef, plus a half bottle of Malibu every day, I was still a pretty positive guy, so I felt really bad when the whole not so positive guy in me came out.
I remember the start of the relationship. Be happy. Your girlfriend. You're on a date. You like her. You like being with her. Smile! Enjoy this moment. No existential dread. No thinking about tomorrow. No thinking about anything but this-moment-right-here.
I really was happy,
back then,
at that moment,
even though when I grew negative I felt like it had been too much effort or unnatural or not worth it, I see now through the Bible that nothing is too much effort and nothing natural is good and nothing isn't worth it and I felt like an enlightened idiot.
LOL. Enlightened idiot. That's going on my Facebook bio.
I thought I was clever, but I wasn't. I just got a cheap thrill from hastily stating the obvious.
Autism. Fucking autism. I heard a voice in the back of my head that I always joked with, where will you be when the autism strikes?
No offense to anyone with autism, most of them had better methods of dealing with whatever that retarded notion I'd get was. The words aren't meant to offend. I'm pretty sure there's nothing in the Bible that says 'don't offend people' so, technically I hadn't been all that wicked too start out with when the worst things I'd done were attempt to compliment someone by stating that they'd lost a lot of weight and looked fabulous or the like.
I thought about checking out a DVD from downstairs.
Guess which TV series?
Lucifer.
Earlier
Nope. Not convinced.
Convinced everyone can be saved if they want to be? Yeah. Convinced that not heeding advise is foolish? Yeah. Convinced that the way desired by man leads to death? Yeah. Convinced I should go to rehab?
Nope. Not convinced.
Especially because it isn't rehab. It's a fucking homeless shelter.
Also, convinced that to mock the poor is to insult their Maker? Yeah. I'm sinful. I'm wicked.
I'm not going to go be around a bunch of homeless dudes in a shelter and have an ass-load of free time on my hands to do absolutely nothing with. Literally, as soon as I found out how much free time I would have, and that it wasn't actually a rehab I was dead set on not going. Fuck that. I might hate everyone around me, rejoice in the idea of an actual rehabilitation center but the fucking homeless?
Nope.
Last night in Church the sermon was about praying to God out loud and being alone while you do it. I gave it a shot today. Worthwhile. 10/10, would do again. It's healthy, really is. Thing is healthy things don't make you feel joyful or peaceful or, at least for me, that's the case. Maybe its because, as the Bible would say, I'm exceptionally wrathful.
If I were to go it would mean I'm forgetting the key part of this whole issue-
besides drinking,
-is me having a huge disdain for everyone. Or not being wise. According to the Bible, its not being wise. It's being foolish.
I'm also foolish for saying so much, or being simple of the lips.
I remember watching Steven (not the fag) become lost in his emotions. Regret, anger, whatever it was.
That's exactly what I looked like now. My hair had grown thinner and my face gaunter like his from the constant walking, the lack of eating, and the excess of drinking.
Fuck this, I thought. I needed to learn how to meditate and process my emotions properly again instead of drinking. Drinking would leave me looking older, having less money, being ugly, being depressed, being hungry. Meditating and processing and prayer, thought of scathingly, would keep me pretty, wise, and bountiful in my harvest.
Life is a fucking trip, dude.
I'd spent all day on Reddit r/NowHowDrugsWork laughing my ass off. I walked all the way to the Law Firm reading it, discovered the firm was closed, and then walked back to the library. I think I read the entire subreddit.
At that point I realized that my type of humor and more dirty, wicked parts of my personality would only fester and lead to rot in a homeless shelter. Like really, no. I need to be surrounded by better people, not worse ones.
Thou shall not judge. Okay well we do and if you don't you're lying. A fool speaks only to express his opinion yeah he does.
I needed to clean up my fucking look, my fucking mouth or dialect, and my fucking act to fit the whole good Christian, good father, mentally stable & financially stable bandwagon. Fuck it. Now it was a goal.
Now I was the underdog. I would be taking it upon myself to let Christ come inside me and change me from within and not relying on a FUCKING HOMELESS SHELTER.
From Amelia and Stefany's standpoint, I thought about them telling their friends or whoever the fuck they were talking to about their dad or baby daddy.
"He's a recovering addict living in a homeless shelter downtown fixing himself with the help of Jesus."
"He's a wicked scumbag drug-addict man-whore who is fixing himself with the help of Jesus."
As if it would be a surprise as to which one I chose.
I was reinvigorated by my rage against God (which I now knew would be forgiven as long as I repented from sin and accepting Jesus Christ as my savior who died for my sins), my envy of the righteous, and my anger and permeating strength to prove to Stefany and Amelia and everyone fucking else that I was capable of whatever the fuck I wanted to be.
Because really, even though I coveted those songs like "Drown" and "Don't Go" or anything else that implied the assistance or reliance upon another I didn't fucking believe it for one minute to be true, especially for a fucking white 22-year old male living in the United States. I would rather die believing I had the resources and vigilance to do it myself than fall back on anyone else.
Unless that anyone were like a nice, vacation-like resort away from annoying people except for the ones I'd get to make fun of in group sessions, and even then, that wouldn't help at all with the not-being-wicked-be-a-good-Christian thing, so no, fuck it.
I'd hit the jackpot of cigarette butts this morning before tossing all of them along with my lighter into the creek that ran the length of the trail leading away from the police station.
Not healthy. Not attractive. Not pretty. Not conducive to life. Done.
Haven't smoked another cigarette since and it's been six whole hours. Typically, if I'm not at work, that isn't a thing that happens.
I managed to smile at a few morning-walkers? (it sounded like a name for zombies) and joggers and croak out a couple attempts at hello or good morning (I honestly don't know which I was attempting) before praying to God out loud (before realizing a man walked not more than forty-feet behind me), "Dear God, who is in heaven, please help me with the whole hating-everyone-I-meet and the hating-everyone-I-meet-just-because-they're-walking-in-the-morning-along-the-same-path-I-am thing, I really need your help on that," and then cursing much quieter to myself that the man might've heard me.
Where the fuck was he going? He'd passed me walking the other direction, interrupting my prayer-sesh already once, and now he was coming back again? Fuck you, dude. It's fucking on, motherfucker.
Yes, that's how I thought. That's why I wasn't very out going. My smiles were the malicious bearing of teeth and my greetings were barked and shallow. I really was wicked, and I really had to change it.
Honestly, I kept thinking about Stefany. It kind of sucked, really, not as much as it did sometimes when I thought about her but It still really sucked because it was that feeling I'd had when people were slapping me into Stefany = no bueno mode or the like. Being a good Christian and a good dad to Amelia meant not hating her. That meant, by the definition of hate, Stefany = bueno.
At least I finally realized why everything had gone so wrong. I mean, even through everything I'd thought Stefany had done wrong, by the Bible's definition I was literally ten thousand times more dead, evil, wicked, welcome to Sheol, and in the rebellion against God than she was, and my life reflected that equally enough for me to at least feel,
As if I sat across from Jesus Christ at a game of Chess, and he'd just explained to me why he was kicking my ass so badly, and I had finally been able to look up and say, touche, you've got me, that makes sense.
I liked that feeling. I understood. Wise people understood. I wasn't very wise. I was contentious. Critical. Abusive and angry for the sake of being abusive and angry.
It was time for righteous change!\
Time to admit I was totally wrong in the majority of my opinions that weren't 100% objective/subjective (I don't know, unbiased?) or based off of the Bible, and to go read it, and come back wiser!
Now, 16:01 22 October 2017
15 minutes of Reddit, my guilty pleasure.
15 minutes of reading the Bible. Proverbs 19-22.
Okay, 15 more minutes of the Bible. Its relative. Proverbs 23-27.
Son of a bitch, the book is only four more chapters. Might as well finish the whole thing. 15 more minutes.
So yeah, I'm an awful person and everything I do leads to ruin. Also, I am a scoffer. I'm definitely going to have to come back to this book, especially all of it, because half of it was either too profound or too proverbial for me to comprehend on the first go around.
Whatever, back to me being me. I still can't smile without looking twacked out for some reason. The edges of lips twitch as they rise. I don't understand why. I still smell like amphetamines too. That probably isn't going to change for a while.
Kings don't drink, I took that from the last of the book of Proverbs. Because then they'd forget things and ruin everything.
Kind of like I drank, forgot everything, and ruined everything.
Badumtss...
I wondered if it was because my blood sugar was low. That would make sense. The no drinking definitely kicked a lot out of the wagon, too, because of the whole memory thing. In one way Adderall helped me remember things I'd typically blocked out but focused my thinking where Xanax allowed the thoughts and memories flow back and forth more freely.
Overdoing it on either end meant bouts of forgetting and space-out moments. Either way. No bueno.
Stefany didn't unblock me again until later that day. I can't blame her.
I felt bad for not picking a wife or picking her because of what I'd read in the Bible and just going off my own understanding. There was something about it is better to live on the corner of a housetop than in the house with a quarrelsome wife. I remembered living with her before and I felt guilty. A lot of those quarrelsome things were probably my fault, and I wish I'd have just gone to my corner of the roof instead of being contentious and wrath-some.
Beat me over the head with a two by four or a rod, Jesus. Go ahead, take a swing.
I wanted to ask J.C. for a suggestion of where to read for 'how to be a good person' or 'how to be a person in general' but I remembered the two bits I'd read about keeping your foot out of your neighbor's house lest he come to hate you and the scoffer is hasty with his words and is more hopeless than a fool in his folly so I just stuck to not saying anything.
At this point I decided I'd rather have peppermint extract in my eyes for the rest of my days than have to take the time dealing with this, but since the peppermint extract wasn't an option, here I am.
My dad had evil eyes or was stingy, or calculating in his soul. That's why he and my mom always had problems. To involve yourself in a neighbors quarrel is to grab a passing dog by the ears. My mom and dad were probably like neighbors. They forced my hands onto the dogs ears. Don't hate your mother in her old age; let her who bore you rejoice. Flunk and flunk.
I mean, at least I hadn't killed anyone, right? I promise that isn't foreshadowing. I remembered seeing a post on r/NotHowDrugsWork where someone said, "my homie wound up in a cell w someone who took 6 Xanax and woke up in jail with two murder charges and doesn't remember any of it I don't f w i fam".
Smoking weed wasn't an option. I don't know why it occurred to me to be an option in the first place but also until this morning and last night killing myself still seemed like a very rational thing to do. I remembered earlier in the day when I had to tell myself Jesus wouldn't want you to kill yourself. Not good. God wouldn't want you to kill yourself. Not honorable. Not commendable. Lazy. No bueno. Stop thinking that way. Stop that thought. Stop that. Stop.
Even when I was reading Proverbs a line hit me about ridding the earth of the wicked because when the wicked died more righteous ones rose and I was like BAM! Right there. There's my ticket out. I'm doing this for the righteous. Then, stop that thought. Stop that. Stop.
It wasn't easy last time, either. Almost three whole years ago, convincing myself every day to stop that thought and to think positively and excitedly for the future! I've been down this road before. It was the year before I met Stefany. So yeah, even though I was living off of my prescriptions, maybe a McDouble and some Sechuan Beef, plus a half bottle of Malibu every day, I was still a pretty positive guy, so I felt really bad when the whole not so positive guy in me came out.
I remember the start of the relationship. Be happy. Your girlfriend. You're on a date. You like her. You like being with her. Smile! Enjoy this moment. No existential dread. No thinking about tomorrow. No thinking about anything but this-moment-right-here.
I really was happy,
back then,
at that moment,
even though when I grew negative I felt like it had been too much effort or unnatural or not worth it, I see now through the Bible that nothing is too much effort and nothing natural is good and nothing isn't worth it and I felt like an enlightened idiot.
LOL. Enlightened idiot. That's going on my Facebook bio.
I thought I was clever, but I wasn't. I just got a cheap thrill from hastily stating the obvious.
Autism. Fucking autism. I heard a voice in the back of my head that I always joked with, where will you be when the autism strikes?
No offense to anyone with autism, most of them had better methods of dealing with whatever that retarded notion I'd get was. The words aren't meant to offend. I'm pretty sure there's nothing in the Bible that says 'don't offend people' so, technically I hadn't been all that wicked too start out with when the worst things I'd done were attempt to compliment someone by stating that they'd lost a lot of weight and looked fabulous or the like.
I thought about checking out a DVD from downstairs.
Guess which TV series?
Lucifer.
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