Prideful pride...Now tearful tears...
Then shameful shame...
Why?
Why?
Why?
The things I used to fantasize about seem far removed. You want to know what goes through my mind? What tickles my fancy?
Revenge. Saying fuck it and leaving everyone but my daughter. Then winning the Powerball. Going to see everyone who done did me wrizzong. Doing my song and dance, then waiting for them to beg me to take them back, or to love them, or to...
I've even had the murdering people I hate dream thang. I remember wishing people dead as a child. It is amazing the defense mechanisms we create to deal with all the bullshit in life we have to go through. Some of these never go away untreated.
I went to an A.A. meeting with my kid. Someone chose to pick on me, call me out. Uncover my hiding place...
Wrong tactics there, bub.
She was right, in the end. I will most likely be alone. I sacrificed so much to be with her, then when it fell through...
Who the fuck does she think she is, Dionne Warwick?!?!?
I'm left with nothing but the things I tried to shirk. Except for one person, the person I've done everything I could for.
I wish I could close my eyes and find myself back... back... back...
1990?
1987?
Clarksburg?
Marshall?
Eldon?
Martha?
Irma?
Lisa?
The womb?
There is no womb in the room. Or vice-versa...
I love how this blog, over time, has turned into a pity party. Love will do that to you.
Sometimes I wonder what strange emotions mein own child feels. I remember feeling burning love even in elementary school. Older girls...
My first nude girl at ten when she was 14, sans intercourse...
Then 6th grade, when I briefly had a girlfriend who was in the 8th grade. Then Lisa, who was in college whilst I was in high school. Then Irma, then that chick post Irma right before I got this jerb. She was the oldest chick I'd fucked for a long time. Thirty when I was twenty...
Sadly, I was actually semi proud of that.
Another woman taking advantage. I also remember a beautiful woman wanting me to whisk her away from an abusive boyfriend. Wanting to use me, wanting to suck me dry, then comes the discarding of the husk...
I wonder if, later, I will be able to decipher, years from now, just what the fuck I was saying here. I wonder if the words I put down are the words of a madman, or just that of the maimed...
The injured...
Mortally wounded?
Ample opportunities. Lack of gumption. The tools I need to fix my life are out of reach, or so it seems. I don't want to be lost, yet I stare off into space. I'm a walking, talking, motherfucking paradox.
Oh, how the mighty have fallen...
I'm sad for us all. Mostly sad for me, but what can you do?
My egocentrism. My masochism. The sadism that goes along with it. My need to control...
To be the conductor, I'm a one man show. I'm like Robin Williams only funny and still sometimes relevant. A revenant...
Am I trouble?
Do I lack a soul?
A.A.'s foundation, their "cornerstone", is GAWD. I cannot, and will not, pretend. I cannot pretend I believe in something so fucking far fetched. I hate life, I hate the feeling that I'm plummeting to my doom. Yet not only am I fascinated by it and drawn like a moth to the flame, it is akin to orgasm. Doom...
Dooooooom.
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