Did you ever look down upon one of those people who blame one or both of their parents for their problems? Well...I take full responsibility for my life: I have free will..I made the choices...but still, I wish I did not have memories etched into my mind of my father's dick. No man should have childhood memories like that. See, my father is a gay, narcissistic, exhibitionist. He uses that bullshit about "how great the male human body can look" to justify the fact that he never liked to wear clothes..which is fine..but WTF did he have kids for? Anyways..whatever..it is difficult to kind of love someone who makes you sick to your fucking stomach. So he and my older brother..who still smoke pot to this day...brought it into the house when I was 8. I was smoking it by 10. I have struggled my entire life with drug use. I have had only a few girlfriends...the last one was something like 12 years ago. After you are alone for so long..u just kind of give up. I became a fat crackhead..just eating food and smoking crack and hoping it would kill me. I never much wanted to live in the first place...pretty much the first time I had a girlfriend and lost her I was done. I was like.."WTF?? People go through this more than once?" I just don't get it. It is not for lack of trying. I trained so hard...I have been in incredible shape in the past..have had lots of good jobs..have two college degrees..it took me a long, long time to really give up. I just could not seem to keep working that hard when I could not get love I needed from the women I needed it from. Lack of physical affection has broken me badly. But hey! I can always stop by my Fagface father's house and get a hug from him while he is in his underwear! WooHoo! How many times should a grown adult male have to tell his father to put some clothes on..or.."Dad i really do not like seeing you naked." Inquiring minds want to know! If not for my poor mother..I would already be dead. Or homeless..or in an institution. I have been able to live on my own in the past..just could not seem to maintain. SO: I'm 46 years old, I have no job, I live with my Mother, my income is what I get from the government each month. I could still stand to lose about 80 pounds. A little more than a year has passed since the crack run that nearly melted my brain. My life now is 12 step meetings, freshly ground coffee, and I live with a mother and animals that I love very much, and who I am very kind to. Doesn't sound too bad right? At the meetings I go to there are sometimes women who I need. The younger ones gravitate towards the punks. The ones my age probably look upon me with a mixture of disdain and pity. Some of them are so very pretty..warm..confident..strong...well grounded human beings. I cannot help thinking that perhaps being able to bond with be friends with make love with one of them just might improve my life. But look at me. Look at my life. Should I do it all again? Nearly kill myself to shred off the weight until I look so good they will not be able to resist? To what end? I guess I should be happy...I have a bed and all...I still feel joy and love for my animals. I still wake up with morning wood. But...it feels like I am running out of time.And here I sit at 5 am. Another day of nothingness. My heart is bleeding out..and alls I can seem to do about it is smoke, eat, read, sleep, stare, pretend, ....and wait. I am in hell. | |
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