Gone

I have been gone for a long time, I had lost the will to live unfortunately. I was not sure until today when I stumbled upon the words of my past whether or not I was actually going to make it. So this is what happened.. My father who I have been estranged from for so long contacted me and told me he wanted to finally be a part of my life. I can’t even say again as he has never been there, so this was beyond exciting for me. But as in everything else in my life it was short-lived. He was sick and wanted to make amends with me before dying. You’re effing kidding me right? Wrong. The only reason my “father” now wanted to be a part of my life is to make his own soul peaceful at the end of his life.

That’s a darn good joke kids. My answer – Not today satan but thanks for trying anyway. I would die before I let him rest peacefully for the rest of eternity – not when I had to endure his sins for the whole time I have lived under the shadows of his sins. I did try for the sanctity of my soul to make things right with him. I visited him and tried my damndest to let things go. I tried to give him the grace that I held within.

I am only human unfortunately. He died this week and my brother and I were the last words to come from his mouth. Tell mandy and jerry I’m sorry. Not that he loved us. Nope, just that he’s sorry. He’s sorry now. After 34 years of hell he’s sorry. Sorry. I hope he is sorry. I hope that he walks in the after life with not a moment of restful peace. I surely hope that at the end of his life he was sorry.

A little about me

This is a true account of things I went through in my life that created who I am. I suppose I should start by telling you about what elements molded me and that I am a very different person than who I ever dreamed of becoming. This is the current me, who I am now. I look very happy, on the surface. I have a very delicate psyche, which I fight to keep in tact everyday. Most days I am kind, loving, cheerful, smart, witty, funny, charismatic, charming, friendly, open. Below that cover is a monster on a leash.

Prison changed me. I guess it changes everyone. Most people it hardens, takes away a piece of them, it destroys the lifesource within. You can always tell if a person has been caged, and if they have been caged for a length of time. They have lost the urge to be still, but they never go anywhere.

But not me. I was hard before I went in. I had known tragedy, pain, suffering, loss my whole life. Trauma was not a foreign concept to me, it was the fuel that fired me. I was hard from the time I was born, not in an unfeeling kind of way, not heartless or ruthless kind of way. It was different than that. I was unbreakable, resilient and headstrong.

Prison gave me something, rather than took something. Prison is designed to make a person lose their sense of self and make that person obedient to the societally acceptable facade. It gave me a softness that I had never known.

Who you are

Little Pieces Of Me

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My daughter has lost her innocence now. She has just turned 16 and has known the ultimate heart break – her father died. A little backstory he is not actually her father, but her grandfather. He is actually my father – though it hurts less to address it when I say her father died. The words are deadly poison on my tongue, like sulfuric acid climbing up from the bottom of my belly burning holes in my throat, and through my tongue, eating the roof of my mouth. I can’t even explain why it hurts to say those words, it’s not as if he were ever a father to me, though he was one to several other children albeit none of his own. How can I allow this to bother me so much? Maybe the pain comes from just being a lost lonely soul. I prefer to be alone in fact. The darkness suits me. I can do the taboo activities that society frowns upon in the dark without the judgement of prying eyes.

So I walk, from here to there, and from there to here, not really seeing anything but the pain behind the tears. I have places I like to haunt, my good memories hide in these places, and I try to remember what happiness is supposed to be. That’s the other lie they tell you to keep you motivated throughout your life – if you do our structured cirriculum you will die a happy person – it’s a lie. There is no such thing as happiness. Sadness. Despair. Discontent. Destruction. Hatred. Anger. These are the human condition. We slide down in the darkness and we feel guilty because we love the dark. We can climb out of the pool but in the end we all end up there at the bottom, loving the filth. It’s as close to happiness as we are ever going to become.

I see echoes of shadows of other lost souls, they stare at me in anxiety waiting. I stare back at them in anxiety also waiting. Sometimes I am lucky enough to escape the chatty kathy and get down the dirty work, but sometimes I get stuck with them and we find ourselves at the end of the night would around the soul of the other, lost within their pains. We here of the night walk we have an unspoken bond with our pain wraithing around one another. We have an unspoken agreement – we don’t speak. Once in a great while there will come a new one and he or she will be overwrought with the anxiety of being newly lost and the pain of whatever scene their life is hurdling through and they will try to be chatty with me. I look at the person and I am not unkind or unfeeling, not uncaring in the least and in the daylight – where such emotions are welcome because the sun chases the demons and shadows away – I would take their hand and cry with them but here in the night we don’t do such things.

Days Gone By

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I Bead Off!

And so I have began to bead. My dad passed away and I wondered about what void would fill my world, since the voice that screams logic has seemed to have finally fallen quiet. You know it’s most definetly a sad state of affairs when your own voice of reason leaves you hanging – well who listened to that voice anyway??

I merely thought those suggestions were guidelines anyway – we all know what is right and what is wrong don’t we? Whatever we choose to do with such suggestions shows our maturity level right? Like if we instinctively do the right thing the first time without any prompting we are adulting and if our first instinct is to punch someone or something in the face we are still probably not adulting (in case you out there in wordpress landing are wondering the difference.)

I have started a whole adventure on letting out my anger and aggression through beading so I wanted to enjoy a nice journal of my beading journey.