everyone has a story. those who oppose the light have reasons for their dark ways, many of which wish they could serve the light: Harvey Dent, Anikin Skywalker. those who serve the dark have been rejected by the light. in an expected turn of events, i have followed the same fate. the walls that have created this person have begun to close. and yet, unlike any creature with sanity, i do not panic. i coolly look for an escape while already accepting death.
Tarrance Sr. is pushing himself back into my life. all these many years i have rejected him and still i cannot escape. for now he has my mother's support. i have chased this very man, begging him to love me. now that i have stopped caring, my mother attempts to force me to Indiana in order to meet him. i refuse. if he would like to meet, he will meet me where i am. i have grown tired of their feeble attempts to get me to meet him. fuck him. but if it will shut these people up, i will meet with this bastard. only on my turf though. i will not waste my weekend to fly to the midwest to meet him. i will meet him at chick-fil-a fifteen minuets up the street. only there.
he is wall number one
James Moore has reached his breaking point. he knows not i cannot speak to him. he knows not why i hate him and Tarrance as one even though he has tried so hard to be everything Tarrance isnt. why? i hate him as a person. he is not a person i would ever want to be around. i cannot stand anything about him. his imposing nature, his downward diatribes, his high-and-mighty persona or his "i can relate" facade. i feel as though he has taken my mother from me and i hate him for that (although she has now walked away from me). i hate him for not wanting to be my friend to talk to. i hate him for making me sleep with weapons well within reach. i hate him for believing that because he has "supported" me for so long, that he has earned my love. you cannot buy respect, you cannot buy love, and he doesnt understand that. his being colorblind has effected the way he thinks.
he is wall number two.
Cynthia Moore has shown that she no longer desires a son. the man in her life has changed her and she only needs one in her life. she has no need for a struggling man when she has one who can provide. who has provided. my rebellion against her husband (which was partially for her heart and undying love) has only turned her against me. so enraged and sick of me, she has thrown the person i am becoming, at me. my father. her doing this has shown me that there is no love between us. people say that a bond between a mother and her son cannot be broken. but the Titanic was unsinkable. we have begun our decent into the ocean of hatred and despair.
she is wall number three.
wall number four is a wall that i wish could stay. with her departure from my grasp, the rest of these walls will collapse on top of me. killing me...no metaphor intended. Shanika Rena' Veal has been the only person to give me hope. her presence is the equivalent of twelve blunts. with her i am so high that i forget the troubles of this world. in less than two weeks, she will no longer be here. as an addict, i will go through withdrawals until i return to my other addiction: alcohol. the only escape is for me to physically escape. leave and never return. i will not disclose my potential future location, but the longer i stay here, the more i know i need to go. if everything i want to forget is here in Georgia, why would i stay?
i am trapped
but i am also trapped within myself.
they say anger destroys you. it does. it slowly and painfully eats at your soul until you can feel it right under the flesh. it has devoured me whole. i am not angry for no reason as my caretakers would like to believe, but now it is second nature. to hurt comes as second nature. even when i try not to, my hand is forced. i am asked about how i feel, and when i give the painful truth, tears fall. i cannot help how i feel. it is ingrained within my foundation.
but i would like to heal
i would like to find a place i belong
something i have wanted all along.
more than i hurt others,
i hurt.
but of course, this matters not. the villain receives no sympathy.
escape
"i've tried everything but sucuide...but its crossed my mind." -Cee-Lo
a quote that replays in my mind
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