Days I Haven't Died

3rd November 2017 I had no idea who would be calling from the community worried about me. My probation officer let me know he'd received multiple calls from the community concerning me. In other words, people had been worried and called about it. I didn't ask who'd called or what they might've said because I didn't want to know. It angered me to know anyone would think to go over my head and I thought that anger was better left directionless. The probation office meeting was a quick quarter hour followed by the quarter hour drive back home. I caught up on the newest episode of Lucifer with the roommate. Lucifer told the woman whose body his mother had inhabited that he'd missed his mother; it was touching. During the episode that he cast his mother out of earth, she cried to him for how much she would miss him and he backed away in silence. I thought about my own mother and father, but not for more than a moment. I imagined them or my brothers calling, ...

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 ...

It occurred to me that I may be, in fact, losing my mind. Life seemed all too fast to slow down, but there was no one around who could understand. Fearless. It was once a word I used to describe myself. Now, walking the same sidewalk on the same street I’d walked hundreds of times before, I felt fear. I felt fear because things were too nice. Besides myself, nothing seemed out of place. I kept looking up from my phone, as if someone were going to be running towards me with a knife, or driving at 60 miles per hour off road at 5 PM. I felt like I was going to die. I was afraid I was going to die, but not afraid because I trusted I’d rest in Jesus’ arms. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the one thing that I feared more than anything. Peaceful acceptance of the fact that I am in fact human, mortal, dying, not a God, and now dead, in the Son of God’s outstretched arms. I feared for my daughter. But at the same time, the calm was so promising that I knew everything would ...

Amelia meant everything to me. Unfortunately, for someone who found meaningless meaning in nothing and everything all at once, knowing what to do with that ‘meaning everything to me’ put forth a very difficult predicament. I’d wound up missing therapy because I’d felt too sick to move. Luckily I made it to the toilet before I exploded upon myself; after that I laid on the living room floor, contemplating whether I’d call into work as well and risk the meager amount of money I’d make but certainly needed or simply go in and risk having to leave. I chose the latter, luckily, because I woke up to Emily coming home from errands with more than I expected or even deserved. She’d gotten me tee shirts, pants, even socks (which I’m sure were to the benefit of everyone in the household, as my feet had begun to smell like rot), and I couldn’t express my gratitude enough. Hell, I felt so happy because of what she’d done for me that when she came by my job later to drop off something else ...

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...

Over, dead, gone. I hope you carry on. I know I'm wrong for all I've done. I hope you find someone. Over, (Over) Dead, (Dead) Gone! (Gone-on-oh!) I wish you'd sing this song (this song) but, Don't fret; I'll carry on (on and on) No matter how long, long, long! (You've been gone) Over, (Over) Dead, (Dead) Gone! (Gone-on-oh!) I know it's wrong (it's so wrong) but, You said, "I can't lead (I'll leave) you on," (your own); I know you're strong (stay calm) through all (with God) the storm- But what if God is wrong? (Over! Dead! Gone!) Stuck inside contemplating: (My own head) If I stepped into your world- (I'm terrified!) would you do me justice? (When I can't escape) I can't stand seeing you hurt, but (I suffocate!) It seems I make things worse, and It's  (Inducing paranoia) like ice inside my veins, babe, and (I know you hate) when I call you names, I mean it (Singing to me)...

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...