How about feminists stop bitching and find new ways of “sticking it to the man”. I get it, us men for the most part are swine, we all get it. But that’s not all of us. I wish I could apologize to ever girl that has ever been raped, every girl that sat their drink down at a party only to feel dizzy and hear their every plea go unheard. I hear you and I love you. But being a feminist and telling me that I need shut up and sit down because I’m a man is just the same as telling someone that being gay is wrong or calling someone a loser because they’re not the same as you. Don’t put me in the same category as all of these pieces of shit, please don’t. I was raised by a single mother with absolutely no money and near to terminal heath conditions, and she never gave up. She showed me how strong woman can be. We wouldn’t be here if I weren’t for you. My mother taught me respect. My grandfather taught me respect. I am in no way gay, I have the up most respect for anyone that is, but for being different, growing up I was always called gay or faggot. By the same men you catalog me with. I guess what I’m saying is, quit calling them men. I am all that is man. I am as equal to you as I am the dirt beneath my feet and the birds in the sky. I’m as worthy of this earth as anyone else. I am growing up to be a real man, a good man. A man that knows how minute I am. Just quit being such a bigot. I’m sure I’ll catch flac for this. I’m sure I’ll catch flac for this, I’m sure you’ll still think I’m swine. But at least I know I’m not and I have no one to thank for that besides my mother. Thank you mom, you are my Wonder Woman.
P.S. If you really want to fuck a man up, hide a strap on in your purse instead of pepper spray. Scare him in that dark alley where he scares you, or rape him with the same tool he raped you.
Tonight, as I drove home through the pouring rain, I saw the blinding flash of light, turning the night sky into sunlight for a mire second. But it felt like forever. I traced the lightning as it coursed its way to the earth.
I watched it and I simply gazed in awe. The clap of thunder was so loud that it rolled through one ear and out the other, leaving behind a painful ringing. It was so close I could taste the electricity in the fillings of my teeth, and yet, it wasn’t close enough.
I was so sure that it struck me. I was hoping it would strike me down, like God smiting me down for all of the distastefully blasphemous jokes I’ve uttered out at parties for cheap laughs.
You see, even Superman had a weakness. You can’t just keep running from your troubles, you can’t stay strong forever. And that was my weakness, out of all of the shit I’ve been through, all of the things I’ve seen, all of the things I’ve survived through, I just couldn’t survive myself. My own doubts drag me down, day after day. I was hoping it was my time, again. That was my weakness.
I am literally a walking miracle. I was born two weeks late, lukemic, and blue from my unbiblical cord being wrapped around my throat like an infant’s noose. I died three time when I was born, but I survived. Some infant never got their chance at survival, yet every night when I lie awake, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars and planets on my ceiling, I wish for death to come crawl in bed with me. Holding her cold, bony body close to mine so that I may warm her embrace. Hoping she would grant me a first and final kiss. Yet, she still ignores me, refusing to give me the time of day.
It always leave me wondering “Why?” What is my reason to walk upon this earth? I lost all faith in God, so it not to bare witness in hopes to save someone’s soul. I’ve basically failed at everything I’ve done. I have so my talent and decent good looks, yet I can’t seem to do anything with any of it.
I really am an insult to the dead.
Love is like a vulnerability that you can’t get back
A cut that won’t stop bleeding
Time without meaning
Do you ever feel like you could just die and it’d be totally okay? Not like, “Oh my god, my life is shit and I need to kill myself”, but just die, peacefully.
I remember when I was a kid I’d always fantasize about it. I would just close my eyes and hold my breath as long as I could. I figured that was what death was. Just the dark, empty void on the underside of my eyelids, without the need for oxygen or movement. As a kid, I thought that maybe if you hold on to that moment, just keep holding your breath a little bit longer, you might just be lucky enough to just slip away. Even now, I still wish it were possible.
I’ve never had a longing for life, it’s just so bland. I knew then at the age of seven that I’d also be alone. Not like, “Oh my lord, I need to have someone in my life. I need to have someone or I’ll be nothing but useless.”, but in the way of never feeling wanted by anyone, never feeling needed. I always figure that if I just disappeared that no one would ever come looking for me. After a couple of months pass by, I’ll just be a distant memory that doesn’t even burden them that I am in fact gone and never coming back. They’d probably just say the same ole worn down bullshit that everyone always says, “They were such a happy person, they’d want us to be celebrating. They wouldn’t want us to be sad.” No, bullshit. I’d want to come back as a ghost at my own funeral, manifest myself so that they can all see me as plain as day, giving them all the finger and screaming “FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING FAKES!”
At my funeral, I don’t want them to lie. They wouldn’t have to say anything good about me. Everyone I know knows how badly I want to just give up and hang a piece of rope around my neck and pretend I’m a tire swing. They all know how unhappy I am. That’s why they quit trying to spend time with me or ran out of things to say to me. They aren’t interested in the things I’m interested about, so they don’t bother. I foresaw all of that happening when I was seven years old, that was when I first decided to try suicide.
It was stupid indeed and I proved to be very unsuccessful. I remember it perfectly, my cousins from Louisiana came down and were staying the weekend with me and my mother. Our mothers were off somewhere, doing something. Most likely at the cafe playing forty-two and gossiping. But my younger cousin and I were arguing about something and I locked myself in the bathroom.
His sister was in the living room watching tv, ignoring us as any teenager would. I got so mad that I threw a can of Lysol against the wall and it began to leak and fill the bathroom with fumes. At that moment I thought, “This is my chance.” The fumes would kill me and my mother would think it was an accident. I was always terrified that if I ever did off myself that my mom would know then how badly I wanted to die and then maybe take it out on herself, thinking it was her fault, worrying about weather or not she could have done anything differently, and I couldn’t have that.
So, I laid in that bathroom floor, breathing in the toxic fumes that I was so sure would end my life. I just laid there for about a hour, until I got terribly bored and disappointed when I realized that I had survived. That was my first failure in “life”, ironically enough.
I left that room, turning the exhaust fan on to suck the overly clean smell of Lysol. Even the power of clean couldn’t wipe me out of existence.
I’ve ran out things to say. Because I said it all before. But you couldn’t over the screen doors. I couldn’t muster up the courage to make a sound loud enough.
I’ll just hold it in once more. I know it’s something you’d adore but I can’t let you have it.
You were here and now your gone. I got fucked up and threw up on your lawn, I’m sorry.
You’re structure is like a clock, but you seem more like the sand in the hour glass. I watched you slip right through my fingers. I couldn’t hold every piece together. I wasn’t your whale song.
You were the queen of the royally fucked and I loved it. You’re fucked off worse than I am. I think you could have been my cure.
I had fallen in love with the thought of you, but now your gone and you won’t ever know.
I just need more time.
I have a life now.
I’m going to be an uncle… (Taken with instagram)
Got this new beaut today. About to break it in. ;) (Taken with instagram)
I’ve been having crazy dreams lately of the oddest things. Of different lives. Of dying. A lot of dying. Today I climbed on top of a two-story building while skating. Thought of jumping. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and day dreaming. It’s so weird. My nights and days are completely backwards. But, part of me is kind of content..
I’ve became obsessed with making sticker tags. I know how I’m spending my day til work.. (Taken with instagram)