If I Should Die Before I Wake

Things to know about me.

I have always felt alone and helpless.
Since I was 7, when my mother watched me press a butcher knife against my own throat. Her reaction was not to help her child, but to hide the truth from the rest of the world. This would ultimately fill me with shame, far too young to understand.

I never felt like I fit in where I grew up.
I wasn't white, I wasn't black... I was mixed
I didn't have straight hair, I didn't have curly hair... I had frizzy hair.

My mother appeared to be ashamed of her heritage. UNLESS of course there was a way she might benefit, as with her career.

I grew up with no culture or education of my ethnicity.

I was raised in a small WHITE, Massachusetts town.

Today, I don't fit in with the people most like me, they don't understand me, they seem to know more than I do, my ignorance embarrasses me and causes me shame.

I don't know who I am supposed to be and I don't feel like I am worthy of love.

I guess I just feel like I don't have a beginning or a foundation... and I know that nothing without a foundation lasts for long.

Contemptuous Maternal Wrath

Your socio-biological theory was put to the test when you took hostage a vulnerable, confused, angry, abused, broken, young man and combined his DNA with that of your own. A calculated, sociopath; a shrewd and corrupt businesswoman, one who did whatever it would take to be elevated up Ma Bell’s corporate ladder in some delusional journey to Telecom Utopia.

Victor Frankenstein himself would tip his hat at your handy work. As the result would bear a broken, angry and confused little girl. Your rejection allowed her to feel alienated, unloved, and completely alone within her family. That little girl was exiled to room and inevitably deep into her own susceptible mind. 

The truth was revealed just a spoonful at a time. It is still too much to digest. However you simply weren’t willing to struggle as hard as other black women would. You had a brilliant thought; your execution was prodigal and rapacious. You surrounded yourself with only white people, you married a white man 10 years your junior after putting him through school and molding him to your desired image, you delivered a child who was half white and moved to an all white town. It was good for you, it looked good for your career and for your façade. You lightened your skin with make up, you spent no time in the sun, you spent as many hours away from home fixated on your career and the character you portrayed to the public. 

Your husband sought affection elsewhere, as did your daughter. Sex and drugs came long before puberty.

When you reached the point of realization that there was no one left to be further baffled by your bullshit at work, you made the lateral jump into the Catholic Church where you continued your performance, now as a modern day working class Mother Theresa… 

The hard-working breadwinner of the family, the mother of the lost child, the unsuspecting wife of the cheating scoundrel. 

You gained their trust, you formed a band of supporters, continued working at a reduced schedule of just 60 hours per week and suddenly your daughter and husband would be subject to the judgement and scrutiny of your newfound loyal fanbase, their community. 

This was too easy. You merely planted the seeds and let the small town church folk do the rest of the work for you. You could see the light so far off in the distance, and to you it was the ultimate win/win. 

Final stop: HEAVEN.

...

I've learned how the mentally ill believe the lies they tell themselves, but isn't that true of all human kind? 

Do you deserve a convenient excuse for your calculated and sociopathic behavior? Should it be written off as such? 

You were embarrassed by your own scion and ashamed of your roots. You found it better to cast out the child than to expose the darkness inside of the mother. 

Without knowledge of family history, ethnic culture, or even basic life skills, I would inevitably find myself young and vulnerable, much like the condition you met my father in, but with a child of my own in tow. 

Unbeknownst to me you had been dutifully preparing for this day. I was without resources,  I was scared and despondent, I had no choice but to capitulate. Desperate and depraved, I had somehow fallen into your debt... 

You took my daughter, turned her against me and closed the book; paid in full.

I assumed the darkness from you; and the debris of shattered emotions from my father. Gratefully, I inherited his empathy and analytical process. Of course, I always knew that I had failed you, I was truly nothing like you. I emit selflessness and love, you are pure poison. To your credit, I do have the ability to be devious and cunning, but to my father's credit, I have a conscience. The idea of hurting people the way you do turns to acid and burns deep into my heart. When I think about who my mother is, I feel vile and inhuman unworthy of any conventional solace.

Except for when I think of seeing you just one last time.

I become physically high on my mind’s preview:

I'm standing over you; my hand slowly tightens around your throat. I'm watching longingly for the light go out from your eyes.

Good bye once and for all; you pestilent, old wretch... good bye.

Ode to the Sea Turtle

I get sad when all the baby sea turtles don't make it to the water. Why would any god create something so cute to kill it? 
Sadly, it's simpler than that. Nature is a lifecycle.  Flowers are beautiful but don't live in full bloom forever, even when we leave them alone.

Simplicity is found within the complexities of Nature... bigger than man and his trivial matters.

The natural order of things... the food chain. 
A natural selection, there is no hierarchy, there are no labels. There are no obese birds or fish that ate too many baby turtles and can't get off their asses. They are able to follow their instinctual path for one very simple reason:

They don't have a choice.

When a baby sea turtle hatches, it does not have a choice of whether it wants the Armani shell or an iPhone 6, or Jordan's or an XBOX. The baby turtle's mother does not have anxiety about how cool her baby looks while he's fighting to survive the first day of his life.

No baby sea turtle has a better chance than another to survive. There are no rich turtles or royal turtle families or turtle cop's kids that get a better opportunity. There are no turtle addicts, no turtle dealers, no turtle therapists or turtle divorce courts, no single turtle moms working 3 jobs, no alcoholic workaholic dads, no manic sea turtles taunting death and behaving erratically. There are no turtle family funerals or creepy uncles or dysfunctional holiday dinners...
From their very first breath, all of the baby sea turtles get the same instinctual road map it says, "Get out of this eggshell and get to the water as fast as you can... go go go go!"

The adventures that turtle experiences are ruled by the laws and balance of nature.

Man is so egotistical,  part of nature's life cycle... our arrogance has allowed us to create our own afflictions.

One man had some loud opinions... some agreed,  some fought against him,  and the rest of us silently succumb to inner feelings of inadequacy.
Only a pimp or a bully instinctively know how to exploit & turn us out.
That's Government and Big Pharma.

The sea turtle has a stressful mission from birth and a very low survival rate.  Not to mention, they probably have more Universal significance than man, yet the sea turtle lives free of emotional hang ups.

Live life like the sea turtle.

Naturally.

Dirty Laundry Blog: 7/14/2015 PANIC AND DOOM

What happens to people when nothing is valued or earned? When everything becomes materialistic and disposable? How do we convey the satisfaction of working toward something to entitled children who only demand more?

What about when we aren't perfect, when we're tired, when we've worked our fingers to the bone for 30 plus years and don't have a damn thing to show for it? We've lost it all once, twice, or so many times we can't remember... but we're still drawing a breath so we ought to be grateful?

What do we do when we can go no further? When every fiber of our being screams for us to stop? When we can't endure another rant, whimper, vent, whine, bitch, moan, grown, tantrum, crisis or teardrop? When we realize nobody is interested in listening to our shit? When we wake up to the reality that it's everyone for themselves, and we've given everything we had so freely?

What do we have when we learn that love is a lie? When our self esteem is mutilated by the toxic bastards who gave us life? When we treat our partners like hostages? When we trade secrets on how to take without giving? When we pride ourselves on coming out on top and it means leaving another human being face down in our wake?

What does it mean when we cry for no reason? When we find pleasure in unpleasant thoughts? When we just can't do the every day tasks that we're supposed to do? When routine becomes such a fucking grueling chore that we would rather jump off a building and call it a day?

What do we do as people whose employers keep demanding more and we've got nothing left to give? When our souls are bought and sold and traded on the open market for their profit? When physical labor and skilled trades were once the bedrock of our civilization, now looked down upon like peasantry from the eyes of a prince?

What do we do when we've been to hell and back during life? When we've made amends and apologies? When we've learned to forgive and to live better and to lead others by positive example? When we can barely hold onto what little hope we have left? When our own simple ideology has no place in the prison-like world we've been sentenced to? When our recipe for happiness is ruined by the vile mephitis of decay? When we force ourselves to deny what we know in our hearts is true?

The grim fact that a foul stench is all that remains of a culture's morality.

What the fuck do we do?

Self-Centered LOVE? I'm in an Abusive Relationship with MYSELF!

I fall for liars, sociopaths, and egotistical narcissists... The reason is that I am all of these rolled into one. 

How can I expect a higher quality human being to fall into my world if I myself, am no higher in quality? Is there any such thing? Am I completely off my nut?

I have attached myself to poisonous people, like a barnacle to a boat. I've dedicated myself, lost my identity and haphazardly handed over countless, non-refundable periods of my life to them. I've even manipulated some and taken them hostage by secretly creating a disturbance, heroically rescuing them from it, ultimately forcing them to depend on me to survive for periods of time. Desperately clinging to the beam of hope that tells me, "YOU MATTER to SOMEONE". I'm your ride-or-die bitch. All in the name of LOVE?!? Well, the definition was loosely translated and adapted by my fucked up, demented mind, so who knows... Maybe in the name of a facade that I'm a good person.

Perpetually a work in progress, I have all the typical 'child of the 70's', daddy issues, along with some extraordinarily hateful resentments toward mommy... 

In addition to that which would later be classified as borderline personality disorder; you might find me sporting a little bling as well... The pristine specimen of attachment disorder I wear like a flower on my lapel often shimmers under an interrogation lamp; I'm a commitment-phobe, and truth be told, not a day will pass absent of sadistically sinister homicidal ideation or reservations of my own inevitable suicide.

I'm no victim for the way I feel or where I'm at; still alone at this point in life. I've brought myself far more pain and anguish than any normal person could be bothered to inflict upon another. Even my mother got tired of hurting me, eventually...

Why can't I stop? 

In fact, why can't I just walk away when I recognize the pattern? Am I masochistic? Do I really enjoy the pain? How can I be a stronger person? How can I reverse a lifetime of self abuse? I don't know where to begin, but the narcissistic egomaniac in me wants to profess my love to ME once and for all; since I possess such a colorful mind, I'm thinkin bout kickin' it off Dennis Rodman style! Shit, maybe that's what it is going to take. I've got a whole bunch of life left to live, anyway. I can't die until I've reached the peak of my success, I'm still fucking around in the foothills... I am sure it's all out of the fear. I guess that means get up in there and Blast that fucking fear, there's GOLD up in them hills. MY GOLD. This is MY TIME to WIN goddamnit, mine!