The Beginning Of The End

I feel destructive today.


So I got out and ran on the lakefront path. That shit didn't help.


I went out and bought a sledgehammer with a 10 pound head a few months ago, I had plans on purchasing a used tire so I can beat that motherfucker to death and get some upper body strength training in as well as cardio.


I never bought the tire. I have nowhere to put it.


I got into a fight with some cat that lives in my building back on New Years Eve, and that was the last time I touched the thing. I wanted to go grab it and bash his skull in, but I knew he wouldn't wait for me... Plus I calmed down after building security pulled me off of his ass.


I gotta destroy something.


 I pulled my firearm out of storage back in January... I have no intent to use that thing. I will set up a range session when the weather warms up and I feel comfortable enough in my vision to want to go shoot. I have to qualify with my weapon in 2013 anyway... Nah, I don't wanna shoot anything. I feel more the need to use my hands. I'm a more physical cat.


I got a guy... My man B. Carter, whom I worked with at a postal plant back in the day who trained at this suburban, secluded bare knuckles MMA place. He invited me to a fighting exhibition one weekend where I was amazed and enthralled in the pure heart and rigidity of human men who chose to fight. 


The flesh-ripping viciousness and pure heart of men who looked as if they could never hold their fists properly to ever engage in fisticuffs is what took me. 


I saw big, muscular dudes get bent over and spill blood by smaller ones, and lean-bodied cats with relentless viciousness that made me fear their mere presence after watching them keep going even when eyelids were torn and bashed cheekbones swelled their eyes shut.


I've been wanting to do that ever since I witnessed it.


That's what I wanna do. 


I believe if I channel my hatred and angst into pounding my fists into the raw, warm flesh of another living, breathing human being will quiet the voices that call me to want to destroy things in other ways. I feel as if I'm running out of options. Lord, let this be it!


I'm getting older, and I've opened myself so many times over the years that the pain of being lied to, lied upon and emotional betrayal has manifested itself into me wanting to exercising those demons into a physical act. It's a thirst now and not just an urge.


After all of the physicality I've been through in my lifetime, I know if I train too hard or take another good, strategic blow to the head... 


I feel like that may be a rather glorious way of going out.


I've been pushed to my mental, spiritual and emotional limit. I gotta find a way to exercise these demons before I end up crispy-burnt up in a cabin somewhere in Big Bear by the hands of some random law enforcement agency.


Does my admittance of this make me a psychopath?

The Audacity Of The Villain When Hope Is Lost

I lost hope in people a long time ago.


It's time for me to tell everyone that I can never trust them. Maybe I'm the sucker though, because I keep opening myself up to people who are tit for tat, willfully negligent and petty. so bent on self encapsulation because someone else hurt them, that they hurt themselves and you in the process.


I am done with people.


I noticed that I put my shit on the line for other people just to get burned in the process a long time ago, but there is always something that makes me keep opening and extending myself. Not any more. Muthafuckers have used me for the last time.


Everyone feels now as if they're the enemy.


I feel as if I wish death and destruction on people and then act upon those that have used me emotionally and sucked up all of my generosity and spirit that I'd get further in life.


I totally feel what Chris Dorner wrote in his manifesto. Whereas I can't agree with killing folk... People should definitely pay for the toll they impose of others.


I think that's what I should do from now on, be the villain.


Every villain has this beautiful story of a wonderful life lived from the start and then there is an incident of such a devastating, spirit-breaking personal nature that turns them to the point where death is the only remedy to keep them from affecting others in a most horrible nature.


I feel my villainous turn coming.

Not Bad Meaning Bad, But Bad Meaning Good... I Think

I know that I'll never return to normal

But I'd like to try and do all things within my power and limitations to obtain as much normal as I can stand before my days are done.

I had a very good weekend.

Let me say that again that I had a damn good weekend. First time in a long time I felt that good and that comfortable with and around others.

It wasn't good because I hung out all hours of the night smiling, cheesing hard and laughing, lost in conversations about issues that mattered and stuff that didn't on one day...

It wasn't because the next night I was again hanging ten, breaking bread with people of like mind and similar passion, chatting the night away to the point where I never noticed any of Ray Lewis' seven tackles and one sack...

Nothing mattered about anything this weekend, and that made it fascinatingly good. I spent a weekend doing normal stuff, well normal in my mind. All of this was based off of a chance encounter, scant conversation and a keen eye for pegging my ass, one person made absolutely sure that the weekend for me would be one of comfort and enjoyment specifically without me being treating me like I belonged on the little yellow bus or in a medical isolation unit.

And she didn't want anything or demand high praise, recognition or a validated, notarized receipt of her doings from me in return.

That in itself put an extra special touch to my weekend because I learned from recent experiences not to open up to or trust anyone. I can never open myself to trust any one ever again. My life is too precious and short for me to let folk think that the things that they do doesn't affect me.

People are so self encapsulated, mired in their own steaming pile of emotional shit and fuckery that when someone like me cones around all socially open and naturally trusting, they end up continuously rejecting the love and trust that they hear songs about, read and write poetry about... The things that makes then veklempt viewing a romantic movie... They begin to callous and harden the very people or persons trying to get them to open by bringing them love.

And that causes hate and disdain.

I'm not going to lie. From what I've had to go through the last couple of years, the hate, contempt and disdain has built to the point where I can no longer be the socially open person with measures of trust in my heart and tons of patience. Just when I think it has run out and me being used up and discarded by folk that have no clue their cosmic footprint and I want to destroy the world...


Someone comes along and shows me different.

But I can no longer trust any fucking body. What do I do?

I almost feel sorry for this young woman. She has so much promise. She has no idea that I've broken myself in efforts to try to mend things with already broken people.


The future  has not been promised. I want to obtain normality again. If I can't obtain it, I want to get close... As close as I can. I really enjoyed my weekend. I want more, but I know eventually, a demand will be placed upon me not very different from the others. The others have selfishly raided me of all of my compassion and trust by serving themselves and demanding that I hold their baggage with no reciprocation of what I gave.

What makes the weekend with this person whom I felt comfort with (like the others initially) any exception?


And yes... I know this is a fucked up spin. Hanging out with and emotionally fronting for fucked up motherfuckers will fuck you up in return.