WTF is Wrong with Middle Aged White Men?

Now that's a title, isn't it? Got your attention? Well let's go then. 

When did we get so perfect? So exquisite? So pristine? So infallible? So devoid co compassion? So lacking of understanding? So lacking of empathy? So uneducated? So lazy? So unable to take any responsibility for our own lives? So fucking lame? 

And I'm speaking in general. In a very generic sense about middle aged, white males in America. 

I hear it day in and day out. Since Trump got elected they have gotten bold. Very bold. There have been times I just sit here and put both my ear buds in and crank the music up to drown them out. My recent favorite is Watch the World Burn by Falling in Reverse. That's what's going on here. America the dumpster fire. 

What is it I'm talking about? Let's start with the current conversation in the next cubicle. They want to wipe the Jews out of existence. They are 90% of what's wrong in the whole world. Now I don't even pretend to know a lot about the Jewish people, but I am pretty sure most of them are good people.

How about the conversation before that from the office management? And I shall quote, "Women are like birds. Beautiful on the outside, but nasty as fuck on the inside. They just shit and piss on everything and then smear it on everything. The only thing they are good for is sex and having babies." And keep in mind these are all married men. I bet they treat their wives quite well. Now I know for a fact most of these men couldn't organize their way out of a wet paper sack. Much less plan and live their daily lives, without their wives help. Without them who would feed them, run their bath water and lay out their clean clothes?

Let's talk about the group of white men that got together the morning after the Presidential election of 2024, "The last time you'll ever need to vote again," according to Trump. They were going from black man to black man asking them when they were moving out of the country, because they lost. Lost what I said? Some of them fucking voted for Trump. How quickly they turned on them. Keep in mind most of them have lived here for 4 to 5 generations. They are just as "American" as anyone else is.

Someone I once really looked up to. One of the best custom/production  knifemakers in America. He said "We should have wiped them all out when we had the chance," when referring to the Native American Indian population. During their fight to save their water, land and way of life from pollution by who? The white businessman. 

Let's talk about the sheer hatred towards Latinos in America. How about the guys in the shop telling them they are fixing to all be rounded up and put in camps until they can prove their citizenship? They are all getting deported. "Operation Wetback" round two. If you don't know what that is you should look it up. I know for a fact we do not hire anyone that is not legal to work in the USA. But you can't tell the white guys that.

What about those Asians? They are trying to seize control of the whole US. Ruining the value of the dollar. They also caused Covid and every strain of the flu. And for some reason we are overly concerned they are spying on us online. FUCK. Who isn't spying on us online? People can see EVERYTHING you post online. If it's electronic, someone saw it and you have no clue who.

And now there is a movement to revoke peoples naturalized citizenship and deport them too. I know many of those people. Some worked for years in this corrupt, broken immigration system and have EARNED their citizenship. Now you just want to take it away?

Here is a conversation that I literally left the office for a while over. "All these queers. We need to round them up and give them a gender reassignment, with our fists. That's how Trump supporters do it. Beat the shit out of them until they don't know if they are a man or woman." And then there were several "Yeah! That's how you do it! We'll show them!" That's a hate crime for one. It's a lot of things. Like it shows me your sick in the fucking head. Therapy can't even help with that.

Oh God. Let's not forget the younger white guys that are full of hate and testosterone. The "Your body is my choice" crew. They are spreading white nationalism and sexism at an alarming rate. Enough to make women fear for their safety all day, everyday. You see the comments like "Consensual or not it doesn't matter anymore." Well bud, that's called rape and it's still illegal, for now. I love that there is a men's movement starting to combat this atrocious behavior. We need to stand up and let these fools know it's not ok.

And all these people online spreading this hatred. It's on the news. All over the social media platforms. Emboldened by this surge of "AMERICA FIRST" movement, the "Make America Great Again" movement, and this white, Christian Nationalist agenda.

People on the right keep saying this is "irrational fear."  And you can't let the words of a few extremist worry you." But I see it coming from every direction. It's all over the country. It's in our government. In our learnning institutions. In our financial institutions. The new President is surrounding himself with these people. Loyalists he calls them. Like when he said he really wished he could have generals like Hitler. Willing to do anything without question for their leader. And lastly, It's created one hell of a hostile work environment here as well.

What Good is Happiness Anyway?

Happiness.    The state of being happy.  So what the hell does that even mean?  

Happy.    Feeling or showing pleasure or contentment...  Nope.

                Having a sense of confidence in or satisfaction...  Nope

                Satisfied with the quality or standard of...  Nope

Maybe I am just stuck in a midlife crisis or pandemical depression, but I have lost sight of anything that I really enjoy.  I don't know what makes me happy anymore.  Even the things that I used to enjoy have lost all their excitement.  Things I used to love, doing things with my family, children, concerts, vacations, hiking, biking, carpentry, yard work, automotive repair, tv shows, movies, football games, soccer games, video games, and even music, have become mundane and disappointing.  I never have enough time to do all the stuff and things. 

Everything seems to revolve around bills and debt.  I just go to work and make money to pay bills, to buy more things, get more in debt, so I have to work more to pay more bills.  Repeat.  Repeat.  Repeat.  There is no real enjoyment in it anymore.  There is no goal I am trying to achieve.  Nothing to look forward to.  No pot full of gold at the end of the rainbow.  Capitalism.  It is another form of control by it's very nature.  Consumerism.  Being raised in a society that is fixated by constantly upgrading everything to bigger and better, means you will never truly be satisfied.  If you get caught in that loop.  I am serial # 17595623. I am a paycheck.  A cog in the GDP production machine.

I look back now and see everything differently.  I had to be institutionalized to mold me, and make good grades, so I could go to college and get good grades.  That was the promise made to my generation.  A college degree will equal a good job and a good job will equal a good income and a good income will equal a good family life and THAT my friends, will equal happiness. Right up until we hit the real world and were smacked in the face with the reality of that lie.  I was told I needed to do many extracurricular activities.  Not because I liked any of them, but because it would look good on my resume.  The things I really enjoyed, like soccer and skateboarding, were constantly pushed away from me because there was no "future" in it.  Meaning income.  

But I digress... I just feel stuck.  Like... I have made my own cage and I can't get out of it.  I guess I have went into a survival mode.  There is just enough of whatever it is to keep me going.  No light at the end of the tunnel.  Just another, longer tunnel.  And I stand tall and carry everyone I can along with me.  But, the older I get, the heavier it feels.  The more I hurt.  Emotionally and physically.  Maybe it's just my stubborn nature.  I don't know what giving up is, but there has to be more to life than survival... If there isn't, then what's the point?

This will pass.  I am down.  So down right now.  Maybe I am just having trouble coping with yet another wave of Covid infections and lockdowns coming on.  Maybe I am just about to have a breakdown from being everyone else's emotional support.  2021 is almost over.  These last two years of pandemic have been heavy.  People ask what it is like and all I can think is heavy.  Everything in life has become more complicated, farther away, and more expensive.  I stand tall and try to carry everyone along.  Constantly searching for that spark I lost.

  

Question Love

Sometimes, I question love.  I wonder how it is possible to love multiple people all in different ways.  I guess I should be more specific.  To love and truly care about more than one woman for the different qualities they possess.

Growing up in a military family I moved quite a bit.  So there are little bits and pieces of my heart spread out across the country.  Relationships that were ended due to the next set of orders my father received.  Some with no closure whatsoever.  Sometimes it feels like a gaping hole there in my heart.  The lifelong question of what if?  To be compounded a million times over when finding out they may still have those exact feelings too, even decades after the fact.  There was never a "Ah Ha, she is the one for me" moment.

Meeting so many people can be really educational.  You learn so much about yourself, your wants and needs. You also learn about them, their wants and needs.  All the different qualities that make us who we are.  No two people are ever the same.  In fact, no one person is the same as the were before.  To quote Alice “I knew who I was this morning, but I've changed a few times since then.”  I often think people come and go throughout our lives when we need them, not necessarily when we want them.  And I think we are all in a constant state of flux.

Here in seems to lie the issue to me.  Can any one partner really fill all our wants and needs?  I have never met "the one" in my 47 years.  I know I am lacking in many ways as well.  I really don't believe they exist.  I fell like that is more of a societal construct.  You have to choose one, get married, procreate and pay taxes for the continued good of our society.  You get some aspects of what makes you happy, as do they.  All while both missing out on other things you desire.  We have opportunity cost drilled into our heads in economics.  For every decision you make you have to give up something else, right.  So in America, loving a woman means you have to marry her in a very traditional sense and are no longer allowed to be close to any other women. 

 

I see so many married people trying to make it work.  There are all the fairy tales we grew up with telling us that we are all special and will meet "the one that completes us."  Then we can live happily ever after.  When a man loves a woman they get married and spend the rest of their lives together.  Shouldn't that really be when a person loves another person anyway?  A universal love, not one dictated by race, geography, sexual orientation, etc.

Couples go about their routines every day.  Things can be great, things can be terrible.  They go through emotional pain together.  Sometimes it brings them closer, sometimes it pushes them apart. Sometimes they fight and then they make up, or just pretend to.  Very few of them seem to have the same wants, needs, or goals.  But they continue on.  We are constantly told that marriage is a work in progress.  You can never stop trying.  I have to ask, if it is supposed to be, then how come it it so hard to do?

I know some people rely on the bible to explain love and marriage, but that is just a whole different can of worms to open.  Especially when it comes to different religions.  Also being a true believer or not changes that game as well.

 

Maybe it's just me.  Maybe I am just confused.  The more I think the more I confuse myself.  Maybe I am just selfish.  Maybe I am from another broken family and have spent my whole life searching for something I never had or saw in my childhood.  I don't know.  I do know my heart is broken in pieces and scattered around.  Some were picked up and held onto tightly.  Some were put in a box and locked away.  Some were swept up and dumped into the trash.  Some are just hiding because they are not allowed to come out and play.

I often wonder if people in open marriages, or multiple partner marriages have it all figured out.  But society says that is wrong as well.  So it is what it is....

When I close my eyes

Reflections on Those Moments in Time.... A story they said.  Please tell me a story Grandpa.  Reluctantly, shoulders pushed back, head tilted down, he spoke.  "I can tell you a story, but it will not be a happy one."  Tell us a story Grandpa, we don't care what kind.  He was the greatest story teller they had ever known.  Most Grandpas are, you know.  "As you wish," he replied.  He cleared his throat and held his head up high.

There were two brothers, Jack and Bobby.  They were both teenagers in a Gender Neutral Scouting Organization together.  They didn't always get along well.  Sometimes, they fought like cats and dogs.  But that never mattered, because they were family and would do anything for each other.  The best of friends, and the worst of friends.  They were a year apart and Bobby had been "the man of the house" since he was about 7.  His little brother looked up to him so much.  They were very good kids.  Always ready to help someone without a second thought.  They had great manners as well.  Bobby was looked up to as a leader in the organization they belonged to.

Bobby had to become the man of the house when his father packed up and left them.  He blamed it on their mother.  She was quite peculiar and somewhat off in the head.  One story was that she made the boys get dressed in front of her everyday, butt naked, so she could inspect them for ticks.  Another was that she would make them take medication, even ones that were not prescribed for them.  Or talk the doctor into giving them medication that would make them easier to manage for her, such as anti-anxiety or antidepressants.  Another was that she tried to beat the "demons" out of them with sticks, belts, or even a whip.  And they had no father to speak of.  He moved a couple hours away.

That's just some background to give you some perspective.  The boys had each other, and that was it.

One day Bobby decided to move away to live with his father.  New home, new school, new friends, and new problems.  He was no longer taking his antidepressant medication and became very emotional.  You absolutely can NOT just cold turkey quit taking that kind of medication.  That's when he began self medicating. Drinking beer and smoking weed. That's when things went terribly wrong.  He got addicted to illegal substances and broke into a house and stole some things to sell.  He was trying to pay off the drug dealer he owed.  He go caught and was arrested.  His parents bailed him out, but said it was his fault and they were not helping him anymore.

That's how I entered of the story.  He called me one night.  He was scared, and alone. He kept trying to make his normal jokes, but I could see right through them. I talked to him for hours.  He had a court date set up and no lawyer or anything.  He was living in a trailer in his fathers back yard.  His stepmom would not let him live in the house.  Going to high school and working part time to try and pay legal fees.  He was off all his medications and his brain was on full overload. He thought it was the end of the world. Going to prison was the only thing he could see in his future.

The conversation went on and I did all I could to encourage and reassure him it was not the end of the world. That his story was far from over. Especially, since he was a minor.  He could get some legal help from the state.  He could ask for help with substance abuse.  That by voluntarily seeking treatment a judge may drop all charges. He did have friends and family to help. That I understood and was not judging him.  That he could get financial assistance. That he could text or call me anytime.  I felt like we made some headway and he was moving in the right direction.

Where was Jack during all this?  Jack had his own problems.  He had been caught stealing money from a local business he frequented and sometimes helped out at.  He was judged very harshly by the peers and parents in his social circles.  They wanted the business owner to press charges against him with the Police, but the owner refused to. He only asked that he was paid back he $250 stolen from him. They realized there had been some money missing from the gender neutral scouting organization a month earlier and blamed it on him as well.  Then they blamed him for some other money missing from the church they met at, even though it was months earlier.  He admitted he had stolen from the business owner and completely denied the other two.  When he was pressed about the reason for stealing the money he said he only did it to help his brother out.  He said his brother was being threatened to pay the money he owed someone and he feared for his life.  Basically, he gave the money to Bobby to pay off his drug debt.

Jack was attacked viciously.  He was blamed for every penny and item that ever came up missing from the church and our group.  When I spoke up Nancy told me there was nothing worse than a thief and he should go to jail.  I pleaded with friends that he was just a child himself and needed guidance.  That they should be lenient with him and try to help.  At that point they began treating me like I was a plague.  All because I asked them to have some empathy for him and his situation.   They had many conversations about him in messenger groups and text.  It was a big secret rumor mill.  Finally, Jack was kicked from the scout group and the church he belonged to.  Totally ostracized by the very people that should have been there to help him.  He worked at the business part time and went  to high school in order to pay off his debt.  The owner kept him on as a full time employee after that.  The last time I saw him was a chance meeting at Walmart of all places.  He has a beautiful wife and a boy, named Bobby.

Bobby was in a pickle.  But it was something he could get out of with a little work and support.  I was sure of it. I was so sure I had saved up some money to help him out. I got a phone call from a friend about 2 weeks later.  He asked me if I had seen the paper.  He didn't say why, he just told me to look.  So..... I did, and I was shocked.  Horrified even!  FRONT PAGE!  Bobby had committed suicide.  One bullet ended such an amazing young mans life.  We heard there would be a service here for him that his mom was setting up.  She asked if some of the scouts could be pallbearers since he was a part of their troop for so many years.  Nancy hollered "NO! Absolutely not!" at the meeting.  She proclaimed him to be the brother of a scumbag and a thief and she would not let her son be any part of the service.  Several other parents agreed.  I pointed out it is not for Jack, the one you have labeled a thief.  It is for Bobby and his parents and other family.  At one time Bobby was like family to the other scouts.  Still she shrieked "NO!  You can do what you want to, but my family and friends will have no part of it."

So there we were, sitting at the church.  It was a closed casket funeral.  I gave his mother all the condolences I could muster.  I shook Jacks hand and neither of us could speak.  To my joy I saw a large group of scouts, about 12, walk in together.  I heard one of them saying "Do you remember that time Bobby........?"  They were trading stories about camp outs.  My faith was returning with every step they made.  They were not being led by adults.  They were there on their own, dressed in uniform for their lost friend.  Every one of them shook Jacks hand and hugged his mother.  Some of the adult leaders were there as well.

It was a nice small service.  A huge FUCK YOU to Nancy service. Someone I had considered a friend for so long, but could no longer stand being in the same room with. Maybe the kids are more compassionate and empathetic than we give them credit for. 

"Grandpa that was a sad story." Yes it is.  All stories can't be happy.  "What happened to Jack and his mother?"

Jack and his mom lost their house in a tornado and moved away several months later.  I still see Jack in town every once and a while.  I still see Bobby from time to time as well. Sometimes, when I close my eyes, or in a dream. That tall young man, with the big smile, holding the door for everyone and asking if we need any help on our way to the Scout meeting.  ;  His story is not over, as long as we continue to tell it.

Shame

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Damaged... Not Broken

"You can not break down what can't be broken
They can do all they can do but they can't break unbreakable
They scared to face the truth because they hate the view
They taste the juice, I hope it make 'em puke, I'm breakin' loose
Should I throw up the deuce or should I waive the deuce"

Lil Wayne Can't be broken

It runs through his mind like a Amtrack train.  Over and over.  A song by a artist so many love to hate, who preaches on the world.  Watching and waiting for the right moment to speak, but his lips can't move. The right words aren't there.  Are there really any words? It's just too much for him to see you like this.  Crushed by the pain.  Unable to move on.  Locked in a single moment in time where everything faded to black.  

Days have passed.  Yet the feelings remain.  The confusion, the sorrow, the enlightenment and the lingering depression of loss. Today is better, isn't it?  No smiling through the tears yet.  No lying to people about why your eyes are watering.  But the feelings are still there.  They are becoming internalized.  He sees that.  A moment of chill here and there.  You shake like a ghost is tickling your spine.  That brief hollow moment, where you find absolute despair.  You want to scream, but it just won't come out.  You have to swallow it back down and try to go back to work.  Stay busy and occupied.  Your mind is processing as fast as it can.  This is healing.  Your mind is reevaluating everything it thought it knew for a fact.  About so many things, you were wrong.  No joke, It's going to take a while.

The song.  It isn't about what you are going through.  It's what he wants to tell you.  He is proud of you for working through this.  Making the right choices and sticking with them. Walking in blind. Swallowing your pride and taking whatever came your way.  No matter how bad it hurt, it needed to be done.  Those were things that have haunted you for years.  Some of those feelings can be laid to rest now.  Some never will.  Others will be cherished til the day you die.  Locked up and put away where only you can find them.  The little monster inside will stand guard.  Always ready to fight for you.  Those feelings are pure emotion and give you the strength to stand tall against the darkness inside you.  That was her gift.  You are both better for it now.  Always remember you are never alone.

After all the years he watched you suffer.  All the pain in your life. Some caused by others and some by yourself.  You have never been broken.  Damaged yes, never broken.  Pick yourself back up and start again.  The armor you wear is a little bit lighter.  The cracks are starting to show.  Those cracks are a good thing.  It lets the emotions vent into the universe so you don't explode.  Stop holding it all in.  You are unbreakable.  No one can take that away from you.  And he'll be dammed if he lets you do it to yourself.  This is the process.  Wet, lather, rinse , repeat.  Clean yourself up, pull yourself back together, and get back in the game.  as time goes on you will understand more and more.  Perhaps you will even look back and smile that it happened, no more crying about what was lost.

Now it's time to stand up tall and get out from in front of this mirror.  He has seen enough of you for today.

CHANGE

Dude!  Don't even know where to begin. My mind is racing and I need some relief.  This blog was supposed to be just that for me, some relief from the storm inside my head.  All those thoughts that need to be sorted.  The feelings that just don't make sense.  Constantly searching for the when, why, how, and were life took it's turns.  Some for good, some for bad, and some that we can't even understand yet. That's where I am right now... trying to understand.  It always helps to write it down.  So that's what this is, a journal entry about how it got from here to there.

It started when someone asked me to write them a story.  They liked the way I spoke and wrote at times.  The images I used to convey my feelings.  I have never been able to make things simple in life.  I over analyze everything.  Add to it some ADHD, anxiety and depression and who knows what will come out in the end.  Going to the mall becomes an epic quest in search of new armor to fight the trolls living under the overpass.  That's where it came from.  A request, and then the realization that other people were reading them too.  And many times they shared that they had the same feelings and had faced the same demons I had (or was). 

People love stories and lord knows I have some good ones.  They love to be wisped away to another reality.  Even more important we are all seeking common ground.  Familiar feelings.  Justification.  None of those are the right words, but that one escapes me right now.  No one wants to feel alone in life.  No one wants to feel like they are the only ones that have problems.  Thinking "It's just me" is where we turn to darkness and hide things in the closet.  Then they grow into monsters and demons we have to fight for the rest of our lives.  But we still hide them the best we can from the rest of the world.  I always wanted so badly to know that I was not alone.  I have feelings, and I wear them on my sleeve sometimes.

Then it happened.  The ridicule.  The attacks.  The vicious nature of the angry, anonymous, human being who thinks they will face no consequences for their transgressions.  Being made fun of and called names after pouring your soul into something is definitely a real party pooper.  "You are a liar!"  I still see that one. It became a troll-a-thon.  If you are an active member of any forum, especially if you have been there for years, you expect a certain amount of respect and common decency.  I got none in the end, so I left.  I backed up all my current posts and left.  That forum is now long gone.

A few months later I tried posting a few blogs in a new forum.  But it was, in all actuality, too new to me.  I didn't know it's community and it didn't know me. Nothing felt right about it.  I literally felt like I was cheating on my former forum.... So gone again, I went. 

Then someone said go to Blogger.  You can do whatever you want and no one will care or mess with you.  So I did.  And I transferred some old things and wrote some new ones.  Then one day it happened.  I stopped drinking alcohol.  And I stopped writing shortly there after.  I had so much I wanted to say, but I couldn't dwell long enough to write it down.  I think all those years I was just self medicating to dull the painful memories I have carried.  "I drink because I am depressed, and I am depressed because I drink."  And it definitely helped me slow down my body and mind long enough to finish a entry.  I have quite a few more unfinished drafts than I do finished ones.  I am also an alcoholic, raised by an alcoholic.  Ahhhh, yes!  That vicious old cycle.  But his isn't about that.

I honestly don't like to read most of those old blog posts.  No one should.  Many of them are fueled by alcoholic rage, loneliness, and despair.  In fact some of them I even deleted.  But that was where I was.  That was the only way I knew how to deal with the hand I was given.  No regrets.  It's so easy to look back and criticize.  To tear yourself apart over things.  The woulda, shoulda, coulda of any decision made, or not made.  Those are the times you wake up screaming in the middle of the night.  And search for comfort to ease the torment.

This is a new day.  A new time.  A new me.  I am just thinking out loud.  Trying to slow down enough so my fingers can keep up.  Lots of things have changed, but many are the same.  This is just a simple form of self help.  A way to put things into order, from my perspective.  I have learned a lot in the last years.  I have learned even more in the last couple weeks.  Especially about perspective.  From outside perspective, which lead to a deeper understanding.  I learned a lot about who I am. I learned more about what light I have to give, and the darkness I need to overcome. I know now that I am willing and ready for change.

No Answer

Inside the outside.  Breeds the silent death.  Always.  It walks among us, unnoticed.  Powerful.  Like the dandelion blows away as the child's breath is forced.  Suffering.  Wanting.  Needing.  Feelings of hopelessness.  Running through the forest.  ALONE.  So dark.  Despair becomes a friend.  No answer.  All it would take is an answer.  He screams out the question again.  His voice is cracked.  Broken.  Eyes jagged and dull.  Worn down from the flood of years.  It comes again.  Hot, wet, and sticky.  Blood stains on the soul.  No end in sight.  Drying to a crust.  A hard scab hides the animal clawing it's way to the surface.  The chakra points burn for release.  Addiction.

A Long Night

A nice hot shower was exactly what he had needed. It had been a very long day and he just wanted to lie down for a while.  Just rest his eyes for a few minuites.  The towel hit the floor and he laid down.  The bed was so comfortable it felt like floating on clouds. The whole day just seemed to flash before his eyes. Slowly fading away as his eyes began to close. He rolled onto his side and started falling asleep.

He felt something very soft and warm touching his back.  Then a warm breath very close to his ear.  The breathing grew hotter and closer on his neck and he felt her body press firmly against his.  Then the hand on his shoulder and it ran lightly down his arm.  He was barely awake now.  "Is this a dream?" he thought.  It felt so real to him. She even smelled good.  Very familiar like he knew her.  Every part of his body was aching with anticipation of the next movement.  He felt her breasts pushing against his back.  So soft and warm. Yet Her nipples grew hard as her fingers lightly danced back up his arm and onto this shoulder.  She slid her other arm under his pillow and under his head.  Pulling him closer to her.  Her arms wrapped around him and he felt the chills shoot down his spine.  Every hair stood up as she pressed her lips onto his neck and began to kiss him.

It was soft and subtle at first.  Gently, lightly, slowly kissing up to his ear, flicking it with her tongue.  Then she pressed hard and she ran it down to his shoulder.  His nipples were so hard.  She brushed her fingers over them.  She began to suck on his neck as she ran his nipples between her fingers.  Her grip was getting tighter as she sucked harder.  Then she squeezed them so hard it hurt for a second.  She didn't let go.  She pulled him into her so close. She was so warm, almost hot.  It felt like his skin was on fire. He never imagined her being so strong.  He felt almost helpless.  He couldn't move even if he wanted to.  A bit of panic shot through him and he wanted to get up, to run away, but he also wanted more.  He needed more.  He had to know how far she would go.

His neck started to hurt from her mouth.  It was brusing he was sure.  He squirmed a little to get her to loosen up.  Tried to open his arms.  Pushing back against her.  She only squeezed tighter.  Her tongue started licking his shoulder.  Then his neck.  Pushing hard against the bruise she had made.  His nipples stayed so hard.  He pushed against her again, harder this time.  He felt her nails dig into his chest.  He pushed again starting to make space between them.  She dug her nails in an jerked him back so forcefully.   He slammed against her naked body.  She didn't give at all.  Solid.

"Uhhhh" When he hit her she made a soft noise.  He thought he knocked the wind out of her.  He felt her grip begin to relax.  He almost couldn't move from her fingernails.  I must be bleeding, he thought.  There was a hot, wet sensation flowing down his chest and onto the bed.  They felt like they were inside his skin.  It burned and tingled.  Her hands released their grip on his chest and started lightly rubbing down his chest, his stomach.  He got so hard in anticipation.  He wanted to feel her hands rubbing him.  Holding him as he throbbed.  Then she stopped.  He felt her nails again.  Running up his stomach.  Slowly, getting harder.  Hurting as they dug in.  His skin burned as they moved.

She pinched his nipples between her fingers.  Then ran her nails across them.  Her leg draped over his and locked in.  Her hands pulled on his chest.  She was forceful now.  Like she wanted him inside her.  Her nails sunk deep and he tried to jump up, but he didn't move more than a inch.  She had him and she was not letting go.  Then she spoke for the first time.  She had a deep accent.  Very deep and coarse. Even her voice was strong. The closest he could think of was a Russian spy he once saw on the telivision. "I have been watching you for a long time. I watch you work and I watch you sleep. I have waited patiently.  Do you remember waking up with my scent on your pillow and my cum on your lips?  Do you remember me?" He struggled to breathe.  Swallow the thought.  Her nails hurt so much he was paralyzed, but still he wanted more. "Yes," he breathed.  "Do you want to be with me?" She asked.  "Yes,"he whispered.

"I will make you mine" she said.  He felt her lips press down on his neck.  Then her hand slid down and wrapped around his throbbing dick.  Her other hand dug her fingernails deeper into his chest. Her teeth began to tighten onto his skin. He was sure he could feel her inside him. Draning him.  She stroked his shaft as she continued to bite down.  There was something warm and wet running down his neck and onto his chest now.  Mixing with the other blood and sweat  He had never felt so much pleasure before.  He started tingling, then his skin flushed. Tears started running down his face. He thought he was going to faint at any second.  He was afraid, but he completely trusted her.  She had come for him and he would cum for her......

Reflection

Sitting here this morning in total shock. A dam in both eyes just ready to crack and flood the valleys below. It is a morning of extreme sadness. In fact, it has been a week of it. Another great life has ended far too short. A man that would give the shirt off his back to help a friend in need. A fellow Jaycee, family man, business man and fun guy. My last memories will be shaking his hand as he offered me good luck in my job search. I had been laid off and even though I knew NOTHING about his business, he invited me to come in for an interview. We spent 2 hours talking and he showed me all the aspects of what they did. He actually taught me quite a lot that day. Even let me play in the dirt a little bit. Who doesn't like to play in the dirt now and then? He asked if we would like to come out to the lake and take a ride in his boat. Although we had already made plans for that weekend though, I really appreciated the offer.

Add to that finding out that a friend and a different family member are fighting a uphill battle with cancer and you create a very emotional roller coaster ride. I have often heard it comes in threes. This is all the proof I need. I am not a religious man. At these times I pray though. I pray that the families can come together and work through their respective tragedies. I pray that I am strong enough to help in any way possible, if they should ever ask.

Today I am asking myself to change. This is a confession of sorts. I have made a lot of promises I have never kept. They all involve people. We have all made them. A friend may say let's have lunch, come by and talk sometime, can you help me move a couch or call me. And we try, we do. But we are all so busy these days. So many things to be done. So many "important" things. Work related things, kid related things, family, pets, etc. Then you look up and you have lost contact with that person altogether, or worse, they are gone from this mortal world. It could be a person you grew up with, or someone you met online. Some are simply too far away to go see.

Maybe we are overwhelmed with life in general. I know I get that way at times. Some days I want to crawl up in a fetal position and hide. I seem to devote most of my time to working to pay bills. Then I end up working on those things I am paying bills on. Many times I look around and wonder how my life got this way. Things were never important to me, relationships were. Sometimes I think I get scared. Maybe I don't know them that well. What will I do? What will I say? What if we really don't get along? All these reasons, all of the excuses. Maybe, just maybe I am completely selfish. I have a hard time in giving up the little bit of free time I do have.

There is a signature under my post that I refuse to change. It reminds me of all the great conversations we had. What MyHattiesburg once was and what it meant to me. It also reminds me that I had 2 good chances to go see him, and I didn't. Lost chances. There are 2 people I regret not going to meet when I had the chance, both from this website. There are 4 more I regret not going to visit from my personal life, because I thought I had plenty of time. Lost chances. When those chances are gone you don't get any more. I have 3 people to call today after work, that have basically put on hold. I have a friend to offer my assistance to that I have never even met. I have a trip to plan to see someone that was like a mother to me and is in the hospital with cancer. I have a best friend that I have not seen in about 6 years because we grew distant and busy. Misunderstandings happen, hurt happens, distance happens, time happens, life happens, but it can all be patched up if you want to.

I look in the mirror and I am proud. I am proud that I have lived so many lives. I have had so many chances of my own. That I have great kids and a awesome wife. I am proud that at 42 I may be healthier than I ever was before. Most of all I am proud that I have made a difference in several people's lives. Life is so fragile and I was so stupid to take the risks that I did. Because of it I am able to relay my experiences, failures and successes. BUT, there are some things I regret. Things I am ashamed of and that bring me great sadness. Those are things I truly wanted to do, and, for whatever reason..... I never got the chance. They involve relationships. The things I never got to say, the call I didn't make, the visit I skipped on for whatever reason. Just because "The doctor says I have 6 more months" does not mean anything. You should go today, DON'T wait until the weekend because it is more convenient. This is a issue I have had for years and I know I am not the only one.

I am 42, yesterday it seems like I was only 14. I didn't want anyone or need anyone in my life. I don't remember growing up. It just happened. This is what someone passing does to me.... every time. I reflect on the fact that I am not perfect. That I am very selfish. That I want and need some people in my life now. That sometimes I do need their help and they do mine. That I want them to know how important they are to me and why. That many times I have a lot to give. WE have to be proactive in maintaining those relationships and NOT letting them pass me by. Most of all I have learned that there is never going to be enough time. You have to make time to fit in the important things, your family and friends.

"Stuff" means nothing. In the end nothing else is important besides the relationships you build and maintain, or do not maintain. The memories you make and the stories you pass down. Sometimes you only have yourself to blame for losing those relationships. My mom told me once while she was in her last days "I saved all these things for you, you have my house, cars, money, birds." I thanked her so much for it because that's is what she needed to hear. Then I told her I would gladly give it all back to just spend some more time with her. "We are all stories in the end, just make it a good one." To quote Dr. Who. I think he wrote some very good stories. I know he will be missed very much, by so many. From casual acquaintances to family, he touched so many. Through this site he touched thousands. He asked me to come back and write one more blog not too long ago. I told him I would. I never thought it would be about this. I would have preferred to write some magical post about Unicorns dancing in fields filled with flowers, but I am not there. Not today, not this week. I have rambled enough, my thoughts run wild. RIP my friend, until we meet again...... My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family.

Those Moments In Time

She asked why I was smiling.  I was not aware I was.  Just dazing away.  Staring off into space. I just ignored her.  She asked again "What are you smiling about?"  This time much more demanding for an answer.  My eyes blinked quickly and he was gone.

I dared not look at her.  It's at those moments in time we are most vulnerable.  The slightest nudge and the damn will explode.  We are not allowed to show emotion.  Not allowed to be seen as weak.  She doesn't like me when I get soft.  I am her rock, she is not mine.

I thought about his smile.  That goofy ass laugh he always had.  He sure was good with jokes and keeping everyone entertained.  Always in a great mood.  I though about how he was always there to help the younger kids out.  How he would hold the door open and greet every single person as they came in for the meetings.  Always with that big smile on his face.

I wondered what had changed.  How had his life had turned so bad and so quickly.  We just hung out and talked days before.  There was a sweet girl hitting on him and they were supposed to go out on a date.  Everything seemed great.  The date never happened.  She read about in the paper.  I found out in a phone call.  I saw myself giving him a hug and saying "I sure miss you my friend, see you again soon."  Then he was gone again.  Until that next time I daydream.

Somehow I managed to hold back the tears.  I cleared my throat with much authority and said, "The sheetrock is cracking in the joints.  It is going to need to be calked and painted.  It's always something with these old houses."  She agreed and we both took sips of our coffee.

Shedding Skin

I had a prediction when I was young.  It was the only prediction I ever had.  I said I would never live past the age of  21.  I thought we would all be dead honestly.  The wars, the disease, famine, evolution, climate, and over population were all against us.  How could we possibly survive when there was this giant monster looming in the darkness just waiting to consume us all?  Turns out is was all media spin.  Magic of the teLIEvision.  They manipulate the facts, mix them with opinions, give us a point of view, then prove it to us.  Funny, it is still happening today.  Now, thanks to social media, we are bombarded with it every second of every day.

But, I digress.  This story is about me and I will make concerted effort to push my add out for long enough to get to my point.  I never thought about the "future."  I never set any goals.  I really didn't think it mattered.  When people said I was messing up, I told them it didn't matter.  When people said I was ruining my chance to go to college, I said it didn't matter.  When people said my behavior was self destructive, I said it didn't matter.  When people said I was going to die young, I said it didn't matter.  The president may push the button and start a nuclear war with Russia any minute.  The next ice age could start tomorrow.  Nothing matters.

Boi, I am so glad I was wrong.  I moved so many times. Started over so many times.  I shed so many skins. I have so many interests.  I like so many types of weather.  I have friends all over the United States.  I love the outdoors.  I have learned so much.  I have so much more to learn. I have finally forgiven.  I have finally forgotten.  I am finally sober.  I know what makes me happy.  I know what I enjoy.  I love helping people.  I love teaching people.  I love coaching kids.

I now have a goal.  My goal is to be a part of a good memory in someone's mind.  The kind that pops into your head from out of nowhere, makes you stop for a second to remember, and puts a smile on your face.  That means something.  Means you had a positive impact on someone's life.  As the good Doctor said "We are all stories in the end, just make it a good one."

I wish I could have understood all this a long time ago.  My mind is fresh and young, but my body feels the weight of all those years of abuse.  I still have a lot left to give.  Someone told my wife they thought I was a teenager playing soccer a couple days ago.  Almost 42 and people think I am a teenager on the soccer field.  Maybe I will keep this skin.  It fits me quite well.

The Darkness

Here I sit, alone at last.  Running away again.  In light I burn, in darkness I flourish.  My soul never to be whole again. There was a time it all made sense.   A time I had all the answers.  Now I sit and watch as those I love.... take the leap and slowly fall.

Rhyme and reason have lost their way.  They stumble like broken words.  The words I spoke when I promised "It will all be okay in the end."  Here I am. I crawl away... only to drown my self in sin.

Stuck on the ledge I cried out for help.  You bit and came to the rescue.  I fooled you once.  I fooled you twice.  My plan was only to use you.  Now it is clear I have gone too far, and only ended up abusing you.   Good bye my love.... I will bleed, but I know all to well why I must lose you.

Take my pain and use it well, or the darkness will consume you.

Evil That Men Do

I sat down today to finish a few blogs that I had been working on, off and on.  Imagine my surprise to find that only pieces of them remained.  One was very important for Halloween, especially since I was asked to write it for a couple other people.  Normally..... I just write to get things out of my head.  Anyway, it is gone and I am pissed..... fuck.  Apparently, drafts are not always safe.  That is not what I was thinking about anyway.


I was at the gym today, running like a hamster on a wheel.  I had a thought running through my head.... lyrics from a song actually.

"Every man is evil, yes.
 Every man's a liar.
 Unashamed with the wicked tongue
 Singing in the black soul choir."
 16 Horsepower - Black Soul Choir

I realized today that I have spent so much of my life trying to be the proverbial "Good Guy."  The one that people trust and turn to for help and advice.  The one that would offer assistance with no strings attached.  The proverbial "Good Guy,"  you know.....the one that always loses in the end.  I spent so much time trying to be that guy, that I never noticed how bad I actually was.

I decided a while back that all people have a bad side, a dark side.  The main difference is how far have they gone.  Were they willing to compromise their own principals?  Were they willing to injure someone else to get what they want?

That is the basis of it isn't it?  It is all about selfishness and greed.  It is human nature after all.  Self preservation.  Survival of the fittest.  The ID and the EGO.  Wants versus needs.  Protection, stability, control.  I am from America where I was raised to believe I can have anything I want.  If no one will give it to me, then I have to take it.  Right?!?!

I always aspired to be above it all.  I can pinpoint where it all went wrong for me, but I never saw it until now.  A boi stole a skateboard from someone else.  He knew he was in trouble so he hid it in my mom's bushes on the side of our house.  I went outside and noticed the bushed were broken and dying.  I looked closer and saw a skateboard.  I kept it and told everybody it was mine.  I could not have afforded to buy a new skateboard.... and I wanted one.  I lied and told my mom I did not know why her bushes were dead.  I told him he was not getting it back because he stole it from somebody else.  Somehow I justified it, even knowing it was wrong.

I look back and realize I was used and abused by people all my life, and so did I.  I can think of things everybody I ever knew did to me, or someone else that was just plain wrong.  A girl wanting to get back at her boyfriend so she dated me for 2 weeks until he was sufficiently jealous and threw me to the curb.  Many different people needing a ride somewhere when I was the only one with a license.  People finding out I had cigarettes, drugs or alcohol and wanting to be the best friends.... until it was all gone.  People wanting to borrow music or movies and never seeing them again.  People wanting to hang out and swim, until something was wrong with the pool and they never came back.  Being narked on so somebody else could stay out of jail.  Then there is always the degradation of being raped and taken advantage of by someone you thought really cared about and wanted to be with you.  Man.... that hurt really bad.

I turned around and did the same shit.  The thing about it is that most of the time it is mutual.  Like relationships, we mutually use each other for things we do not have.  I wanted to have children.  I wanted to have lots of sex.  I wanted to have someone who would do things I would not do.  She wanted to move out and get away from her parents.  She wanted someone to get her drunk and high.  She wanted to experience things she could only get from an older, more experienced man.

I never said it was wrong.  Most of the time it is not.  If it is done specifically to hurt someone else..... then it IS wrong.  We give to each other.  We compliment each other.  We push each other.  In reality, for good or bad..... we need each other, and we use each other to get what we need.  Sometimes we just do it in the wrong ways.

Head Over Heels

His father was in the military and it was time to relocate again.  The move went okay.  At least they had finally arrived in their new town, Fallbrook, California.  They could only get some of their stuff out of storage since they were just renting a apartment for the time being.  Some furniture, clothes, music and his skateboard.  He had a few days to kill before he started school.  It was Friday, but Monday would come all too soon.  His second year in the 9th grade and school had already started here.... joy.  Not really his fault, but that is another story.

The weather was absolutely gorgeous.  "Can I go skate around?" he asked his mom.  "Sure, just be back before dark," she said.  There was a gas station off in the distance, obviously this had to be his destination.  I mean how long was he expected to go without a Mountain Dew?  I mean what the fuck!  The terrain was very hilly, this was all new to him.  Skate a little..... walk up hill a little.... then do it all again.  Where he came from there were no hills.  Everything was flat.... and wet.

When he finally got back he was really tired.  There was a ledge around the flowerbed and he took a seat and lit up a cigarette.  "Hey," he heard, but paid it no mind.  "Guy on the skateboard!" he heard.  Standing up he saw a girl staring at him.  "Hi," he choked out.  His first introduction and he was kinda shy, so he blew it out his ass. 

"I'm April, what is your name?" she said.  "James," he replied.  "You are not from around here are you?"  she said.  He must have heard that statement at least a thousand times.  "No, I am from Louisiana."  he replied.  She paused for a minute, looking him up and down.  "Some of us are going to hang out at the cemetery up the hill, you wanna come hang?"  He got so happy he almost yelled it out, "Hell Yeah!"  They had hung out in cemeteries quite a few times where he was from.  "You find it strange how the darkness calms us." -Mushroomhead  That night he got a little drunk, a little high, and made a couple new friends.  The weekend flew by so fast.

Monday was a real fucking bummer.  Waking up at 6 am and getting ready was no fun.  Plus, he was so nervous his stomach was killing him.  He spent half of his time in the bathroom, not knowing if he was going to puke or crap.  He was not a very outgoing person.  This shit was like torture.  New city, new state, new school, new person.  Jimmy was what he had been called since he was born.  He decided that was no longer him, he was now James.  He got in the car and his parents dragged him to school.

Registration, meeting the principal, a half assed tour of the campus and they set him loose.  Missed first period, so it was off to second.   Late of course.  It is bad enough being a new student, at a new school, but then you have to go in late so everyone can stare at you.  Worse yet, the crazy bitch made him stand in front of the class and introduced him.  He had to sit in a chair because all the desks were full.  She promised to have a desk for him the following day.... yipp-fucking-ee.  Next there was a "morning break" where the students could get a snack or just chill out for 15 minutes, cool.  He got a powdered donut with jelly filling.  You could never get something this cool at his old school, Awesomeness!

Two more periods went by and it was lunchtime. He walked down a hallway toward the lunchroom, at lest he thought it was.  Everybody in the hallway was Latino.  They were lined up on both sides, sitting down, backs against the wall.  He heard someone say "I wouldn't walk down that hallway if I were you, white boy.  They will hurt you."  James turned around and saw a Latino guy, with long black hair, wearing a Slayer shirt.  "Thanks man," he said.  "No worries," was the reply he got back.  It seemed like everybody knew he was not from there, and what the fuck did "No Worries" mean?

He decided he was just going to skip lunch today and walk back to the front of the school.  That part seemed pretty calm to him.  There were some benches to sit on and relax.  Maybe read that new skate mag he had brought.  Walking by the flag pole he paused.  He never made it to the benches.  There was a violent push into his back and his hat was ripped off his head.  Whipping around, he saw a big white guy holding his hat.  Then the guy threw it into the trash can.  James said "what the fuck is your problem?"  The ogre hollered back, "Nobody wears blue around here and gets away with it."  James was not about to lose his favorite skate hat to some giant douche bag.  He said "Okay, I won't wear it here anymore," as he walked over and picked it up out of the trashcan.  It was a baby blue Nike hat with duct tape on it.  One of his best friends gave it to him before he moved.  He dusted it off and was putting it into his book bag when the giant yelled at him, "No, I am going to kick your ass."

Well shit, James thought.  This dude is a lot bigger than me.  He is probably going to beat my ass, but I am not backing down.  Just then he felt a hard shove in his chest and had to take a couple steps back to get his balance.  Every hair on his body raised up.  He walked back up and pushed the guy back and stepped back with both fists clenched... it was on now.  Just then another guy walked in between them and said "It's cool, chill out."  He looked at James and said "He was trying to punk you, and you are obviously not a punk.  We are going to go to the tunnels to grab a smoke, wanna ditch with us?"  Let's see, stay in this scary ass school and probably get his ass beat, or sneak off and smoke a cigarette with some people he knew nothing about.  "Yeah I'll go with you," he replied.

They walked to the edge of the school property waited for a few minutes, making sure nobody was watching.  There were 6 of them on this covert operation.  Then down into a large drainage ditch, under a bridge and into a large storm drain.  They lit up cigarettes, some lit up joints.  This was a cool place and he was starting to relax again.  They were asking him questions, "Where you from, are you a skateboarder, you like drugs, been in trouble with the law?"  Matter of fact he was on probation at the time.  One of them said "We can make sure nobody fucks with you anymore.  We are going to start a rumor that you are fucking crazy and just got out of juvie for stabbing somebody."  He could tell the giant douche was still wanting to fight him from the tone in his voice.  He lit some paper on fire and threw it at James.  James grabbed it and threw it back.  The other guy suggested they smoke a joint and chill the fuck out, so that is just what they did.

Everything was cool and they kinda dazed off.  James looked over and saw a girl.  She was sitting a little ways away from them.  She had caught his eye earlier, but the violence had made him forget everything else.  He didn't think she had said hardly anything the whole time they had been there.  She smiled for a second as they made eye contact, and they both quickly looked away.  He kept glancing at her.  She was a little taller, dirty blond, brown eyes, nice tits, hot ass, and dressed way to nice to be hiding in a storm drain.  She was beautiful and he was very intrigued.  He asked the douche about her.  "Who is she?"  "Her name is Aimee, but I call her Aim-word.  I am going to ask her out."  "The fuck you are" James thought.

He snuck away from school almost everyday.  They introduced him to Munchkin Land, and showed him how to sneak out of every part of the school.  There would be new people and new distractions.  It was like being part of a secret underground organization.  He tried to talk to Aimee every day.  In fact, his whole day was based on seeing her.  More importantly was seeing her smile.  If he did not see her his day would be ruined.  She began talking back.  She really did not talk a lot, in fact sometimes he felt like he had to pull the words out of her.  Actually, she did not have to talk because he could see so much in her eyes.  They seemed to both be hiding from something.  Maybe they should hide together, he thought.  She made him fell better, just being close to her.  He fell head over heels in love with her, and he never looked back.......

It started out being easy to make friends in California.  Nothing like back in the south.  It seemed like in Louisiana if you were not born there, they did not want you there.  These new friends we different.  It was like they were all people that did not fit in somewhere else, so they just stuck together.  They taught him a lot about gangs, colors and turf.  Things he didn't know anything about.

The newness of California wore off really quickly.  He missed his old friends so much.  At times he spent hours alone, crying in his room.   His father told him this would only be a two year post and then they would go back to Louisiana.  In his mind he was just killing time until they moved back.  He made it a point not to get too close to his new friends, but there was one he was already very close to.

Alcohol and drugs were easily available.  That was part of why they hung out in the cemetery a lot.  It made them feel comfortable in the darkness, and there were never many people around.  He never really felt comfortable about snorting lines off of some one's gravestone though.  Somethings are just going to far.  Like when he started selling joints at school.  That was a bad idea.  It lead up to him being strip searched in the principals office by police, and almost getting expelled..... and that was only the beginning of his troubles......

Nightmares of Addiction

She sits there staring at me.  Vicious, possessed eyes.  The person who gave birth to me, now reduced to nothing more than a dying addict.  Alcohol, a friend at times, a deceiver always.  Just a way of coping with the pain.  Self medicating.... again.  "I drink because I am depressed, I am depressed because I drink."  It is a shared vice, like mother, like son.  Smoking and drinking became a way of relating.  Relating to and otherwise non existent parental relationship.

"You were an accident, I wish you were never born," she said once.  Words as sharp as razor blades cutting deep into my soul.  Regret and resentment had tainted to the core.

Years of saying "You have to stop, slow down, cut back."  All amounting to wasted breath and visions of her death.  "My chest hurts," she said said.  Off to the E.R. we go.  They seem to be surprised she is even alive.  Atrophy of the brain is 30 years past her age.... from the alcoholism.  The tumor in her chest is huge, like a orange, from the cigarettes.  There is no cure at this point, only a matter in father time's hands.  The one thing we seek to control, but never will..... time.

I wake up every night, with visions of her staring at me.  She looks just like Gollum from The Lord of the Rings.  Those hollow, black eyes staring into my soul.  In her voice I hear the anger as I now have control over her addiction.  The alcohol and cigarettes have changed to narcotic pain medication.  "Give me my precious" she yells.... as the blood runs down her chin, from the animal she just killed and ate raw.  "My precious" she yells, as she claws her way into my soul.  "My precious" she yelled, up until she died.

"My precious," she yells, every night in my dreams. I wait in horror for my time to become her.  My precious.

YOU and YOUR Jesus

YOU tell me you once ran off a black couple, with a baseball bat.  YOU say they were looking at a house for sale across the street and YOU did not want them to move into YOUR neighborhood.  Black folks always bring down the property values, YOU said.

and you tell me I need Jesus...

YOU tell everyone that YOU have a perfect marriage and that YOUR husband is the best father YOUR children could ever have.  Yet at home YOU are scared to death of him.  He yells and screams at you and tells YOU things like "If YOU leave me I will take YOUR children away" and "YOUR fat ass needs to lose some weight, because I don't want to have sex with a whale."

and you tell me I need Jesus...

YOU tell me that YOU had to stop on the side of the interstate, pull your two little girls out of the car and "Whip the shit out of both of them until they were both in tears."

and you tell me I need Jesus...

You tell me it is OK to cheat on YOUR spouse, because they are cheating on YOU.  YOU have been fucking and sucking several of his friends for years.  I hope he does not kill YOU when he finds out.

and you tell me I need Jesus...

YOU tell everyone about YOUR loser friend that lives off the government.  YOU tell them that YOU are sick and tired of paying for scum like her to live off YOUR tax dollars.  Yet, YOU are sweet and nice anytime she comes over, and YOU have no problem leaving YOUR kids with her when YOU want to go out.

and you tell me I need Jesus...

YOU beat up a white guy because YOU don't want him going out with a black girl.  The black girl is YOUR cousin and YOU say YOU are doing it to protect her.  She agrees not to see the white guy anymore so YOU and YOUR friends will not hurt him anymore.  Then YOU have the nerve to say that YOU are not racist because YOU are black.

and you tell me I need Jesus...

YOU sit and premeditate on how many ways YOU are going to hurt someone, first with words and later with hands.  YOU pray to god to forgive YOU for what YOU are about to do.  Then YOU use YOUR words to rip a woman apart, piece by piece, because she did not do a good enough job at work today.  She leaves in tears, her spirit crushed, and never comes back to work.  YOU never even trained her on what she was supposed to do.

and you tell me I need Jesus...

YOU have a horrible breakup with YOUR boyfriend, because he was sleeping around on YOU.  YOU are so low YOU don't know if you can ever get back up again.  I watch YOU slowly get back to work, one and sometimes two jobs.  YOU buy a car with cash money.  Then YOU rent an apartment and go back to college to finish YOUR degree.  YOU graduate and get a good job and move to another state.  I am so proud of YOU and commend YOU for all YOUR hard work.  Then YOU tell me I should be thanking Jesus because YOU could not have done it without his help.  ???  I say it was YOU, YOU are one of the strongest people I know.  As I walk away from our relationship in tears, hoping YOU will learn how strong YOU are... and you tell me it is over unless.....

and you tell me I need Jesus...

YOU ask me to bring my kids to YOUR Sunday School Service.  Then YOU proceed to tell me that YOU hate "faggots" and "queers."  YOU tell me that God says same sex relationships are wrong and those people need to be punished for their sins.

and you tell me I need Jesus...

YOU tell me that Hurricane Katrina was God's wrath for the gambling, corruption, drinking, and sex in New Orleans.  YOU say that the world would be better off without "those" kinds of people and that not enough of them died.

and you tell me I need Jesus...

YOU tell me that the Mexicans have taken all the jobs and YOU can't find work.  YOU tell me that they will work for pennies on the dollar and are ruining America.  I wonder how YOU can afford a 24 pack of beer and two packs of cigarettes a day, while you sit on your front porch doing absolutely nothing.

and you tell me I need Jesus...

YOU send out dirty texts with jokes and pictures about "niggers" to people you call your friends.  YOU say "the only good nigger is one that is hanging from a tree."

and you tell me I need Jesus...

YOU tell me how much fun you have at your house.  YOU lure cats to your porch with milk and food.  Then YOU "bash their heads in with a metal baseball bat."

and you tell me I need Jesus...

YOU openly make fun of YOUR secretaries skin condition.  YOU stir up people and try to get everyone else at work to make fun of her too.  YOU send out texts and emails to everyone in YOUR office, making fun of her.  She goes home every night and cries herself to sleep.  Even though she can not afford to lose her job, she ends up quitting and almost loses everything she has.  She later reveals that YOUR dumb ass was sending all those messages to her to because YOU don't know how to work YOUR computer or phone.  YOU also forwarded others replies to her as well.

and you tell me I need Jesus...

YOU brag how YOUR woman stays at home taking care of the kids.  She wants to go back to work, but YOU won't let her.  YOU say women are only good for cooking, cleaning, fucking and making men food.  YOU have demoralized her and made he feel like no one else would ever want her.  She stays at home doing everything YOU ask and lives in misery.

and you tell me I need Jesus...

OK, I vented and I am done.  I could go on for another hour or two.  I assure you all these things have happened.  These very same people will talk about doing something heinous to another human being or animal, and five minutes later be telling me that "YOU need Jesus in YOUR life."  "YOU should come to church with me on Sunday."  I get so tired of living in the South sometimes.  It is a place full of hypocrisy, backstabbers, and pure selfishness.  Yet, there are some good people here.  The ones that will help you no matter what, where, when or how you are.  Those are the ones that make me forget about all the evil as fuck people, cutting each other's throats to get ahead.  There are some that will give you the shirt off their backs, the last dollar in their wallets, the last bit of food they have.  The ones that keep my hope alive, weather or not I beLIEve in Jesus.