Days I Haven't Died

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 ...

Prayer helped me more than anything today. Otherwise I would've lost my nerve. Imagine seeing this, this little girl, the only thing you felt you could truly cherish, and then being told you’d never speak to her again, be it out of exaggeratory spite or not. Or being told you’d been unfaithful when you’d bottled so many reasons to disagree. Knowing so many accounts of the contrary. Dear God, thank you, please. Help. Thou shall not judge. I wanted so badly to judge. Staying free of hate had to have been the hardest thing I'd done all week. Amelia looked so much happier with her mom. Gabe looked so much happier with Jackson, with Halley, or without me. My parents looked so much happier without me. Stefany looked so much happier without me. Everyone looked so much happier without me. And I felt pitiful every day without even seeing it for myself. Prayer was helping me now, too, because God didn't look any way with or without me, and I knew he didn'...

"Hey there, Trouble," it was the best way to greet her. She was your typical non-Christian fourteen year old girl. Not a virgin. Sold her Xanax for side money. No cares about anything; not lucky enough to be rich but wealthy enough to not give a fuck. She'd said she sold pharms, so I asked which. I loved bragging about how much I got. Of course she asked if I'd supply so she could sell more. "Not a fucking chance," I laughed at the girl. The drug was a fucking death wish. The idea of fourteen year olds accessing a benzo harder than roofies was ridiculous. I'd told Stefany about my mistake. Honestly, it was the hardest thing I'd done all day. I hated it. She seemed like she was warming up to me again, and I had to cut her with the cold truth: I was still just as bad if not worse than I'd always been. Either fucking way, I felt like trash. It bothered me, but life proceeded to waggle it's tremendous cock in my face. Lime Lounge w...

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...

Part of me warily feared the Xanax ever so slightly. GABA, being the main inhibitory compound in mature vertebrates, depended very heavily on the nurture of the patient, human or not, as to exactly what inhibitions, once cast away, would result in. Household pets like cats and dogs, vertebrates themselves, can also be prescribed Xanax. However, based on their nature, some are not recommended to the drug because it can lead to aggressive, violent outbursts as opposed to tranquility. I remembered cussing out my grandma that day on the side of the highway. Xanax. I forgot listening to all the music Merry had suggested. I really had liked most of it, really. I neglected to tell her, though, because I resented the idea of annoying her. As indifferent as I was, I resented how much the thought seemed to shimmer with a brilliance above all the others, sticking out and into my forethought like a pin. Resent was hate. Not a good Christian. DAMMIT! Cursing, no good again. I rese...