Days I Haven't Died

I signed the dismissal for my petition for modification of my daughter's custody today. I wrote a poem today about something like winter, appearing first as pretty fallen stars and leaving you with nothing but cold, loneliness, and hopelessness. You can read that  here. I know on the page of contents I wrote that I'd at least do my best, or promised, to post everyday, and I'm sorry, because I've failed you. Maybe that can be taken as a subliminal, because I don't always keep my word. I don't always hold my promises. Even if I do keep my word, sometimes, you'll find I've found the whole and hole in my words to leave you disappointed nonetheless. I'm trying to fix that, but how long have I been trying? It feels like eternity sometimes. I wondered why my sweat still smelled like drugs, why my feet still smelled like rot, why I was still paranoid about things that happened yesterday. It had been months since my last bout of any drug, I...

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 ...

Proverbs 3: 3-7  Let not steadfast love and faithfulness forsake you; bind them on the tablet of your heart. So you will find favor and good success in the sight of God and man. Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths. Be not wise in your own eyes; fear the Lord, and turn away from evil. I feel awful. Why am I all mixed up in this mess anyways? I didn't want to die. Why did I feel like death was so constantly inevitably close? I wanted to feel that warm everything-is-alright feeling, that everyone-is-here feeling. I didn't know if I'd ever really feel it. It was like a cup of coffee in the morning but better, and I felt so uncertain of things. I knew I kept sabotaging myself and I wanted so badly to stop. How does something fix itself? My friends were suggesting rehab. Amy Winehouse's song "Rehab" played in my head in the most distasteful ...

Whatever the fuck I'd said yesterday I didn't want to remember. I still remembered it anyways. It felt disgusting. I couldn't tell whether it was that or just the rest of all the things I regret that made my throat taste like constant bile. I didn't mean most of it, but there had been truth in all of the words. Had it been a Saturday? Yeah. It had. Oh yeah, I hadn't gone to Church. That had blown me the wrong direction. As if it wasn't my fault. I could've drug myself somewhere else, but instead I did nothing. I kept fighting the urge to vomit and I had no idea why. One Xanax helped a little bit, but I still had to lie down. The second got me back into a chair, and the third made me feel okay enough to not THINK about how sick I felt. I finished watching God's Not Dead. Nice. I liked how he proved 'God Wasn't Dead'. I found it weird though, how the priests reacted to the guy getting hit by a car. Like, it reminded me of ho...

Zero. Houston, we have liftoff. You haven't done this before. Ask, using my name, and you will receive, and you will have abundant joy. John 16:24 NLT Gabe had been familiar with my behavior when I would depersonalize, although he didn't call it that. To him, I had just learned to not take anything seriously- to a fault. Right now, I was right fucking there.  Last night I'd thought that God had turned up the volume on the difficulty. Today, I'd realized he was only beginning to turn up the volume. It was like he was setting up that fucking noise from the THX ad you'd see at the beginning of movies.  Since I couldn't picture God, I pictured Frat-boy Jesus doing it.  Jesus seemed like a pretty loving guy. The Church Gang had said that it was ' Cool to be rude by God ' but they'd said I'd probably better not word it that way. If it was cool though, I imagined Jesus smiling as he blew out my eardrums with this noise.  You kno...

Hopelessness . Somehow the word fled my mind whenever anyone asked the questions it could answer. It had a ring to it; a tonality I'd recognized and craved for its familiarity. That must've been why I'd forget it so often. I always found that the things I craved, the things I longed for, whatever I cherished; all had the common attribute that I'd find myself at a loss for words to describe. Sure, I could search for the words but I didn't want to. A moment is lost once it is remarked upon. Not my words, but all of the things I couldn't immediately describe made me happy. I didn't want words for them because I didn't want to spoil the moment. As for hopelessness, I craved the empathy. Like someone felt like I did, too. Bible study. Okay. Game plan: no favoritism. Treat everyone the same. Stop saying 'heck yes'. Stay away from the women. 2 Samuel 11:12-13. King David and Uriah. I nearly know the story by heart. Moral of the story: men sho...

Six.  The verse of the day was, "Hitherto have ye asked nothing in my name; ask, and ye shall receive, that your joy may be full." John 16:24 KJV. I must say, the prayer I'd prayed, Dear God, please help shelter me from the promiscuous, (which I'd really wanted to phrase 'Dear God, save me from all these hoes,') and Dear God, please protect me from the sins of extramarital sex and all the desires of the flesh relating to lust, had worked pretty  fucking  well. I'm sorry, God. Please, God, Christ Jesus, Holy Spirit, forgive me for the cursing. My jeans hadn't been loose enough around my legs. Skinny fit, straight leg cuts  had  to feel  somewhat loose  or I'd spend the days feeling repulsive. I hadn't realized at the time how wrong that was under God. Not only was vanity a sin, but to feel  disgust  towards even one's self was  hate,  and a sin in itself. I remembered again how my wickedness had gone unpunished and unn...

Mad: to be very enthusiastic about someone or something. Exciting. Great; remarkable. If you cared enough as I did to dig deeper into the many different definitions of the word 'mad', these are what you would've found. I was quite mad indeed. Maybe today would go alright, I thought. Mondays always seemed to go fifty-fifty. You're going to be the one who decides how today goes,  I tell myself.  You're the one who is in charge if anything gets to you or not. I kept thinking about what Manny and Mo had told me about my "kryptonite".  It was funny, yeah, but because it was true... Scratch that. That's exactly why it was funny. I just didn't like it. The whole forever-alone idea dawned on me and my self esteem dropped a couple notches. Before it had been just 'ratchet women', deemed by Hailey and Hannah to be terrible influences. They were right about that, those girls I hung around would be spitroasted by a couple of college basketbal...

Realizing (or learning) that my inhibitions were what had kept me from smiling, conversing, and even saying, “Hello,” must’ve been a memory of truth I’d blocked out for as long as I could.  It left me with this question: Have you ever wondered what could possibly make a child feel as if they must stop smiling or speaking for as long as the they possibly could? I’d ran the numbers thousands of times but hadn’t yet found the answer.  It looked like I had found another mission for my Therapist.  Temptation grew exponentially harder to resist.  Ever since three years old I'd been humping everything that provided a steady base.  Aside from the inhaling nail polish remover and rubbing alcohol, another vice cured my ails that arose from not only aches and pains but boredom as well.  This vice was rubbing, touching, fondling, myself until I had gotten bored of it, sore, or in my later years, bled. Anyways, after work I headed hom...