The Devil You Know: Inside the mind of BlisteredBlood
11-09-2011, 09:33 PM
RE: The Devil You Know: Inside the mind of BlisteredBlood
November 9th, 2011
You know guys, I've seen everything there is to see in this day and age. I've done it all, heard it all and even got the t-shirt to prove it. And to be honest, I've grown tired of humanity as a whole. I've become so jaded that I refuse to believe the first word that comes out of their mouths unless if they have some sort of proof in triplicate, ironclad double-blind forms that they are being 100% honest with themselves. Then again, jaded isn't even fitting for how I feel as of this moment in time. No. You really know what I feel? Disenfranchised. Borderline misanthropic. Praying that some form of apocalypse occurs that sweeps out the stupid out to sea, dissolves their flesh or eats them alive and leaves the rest of humanity - fine, upstanding citizens that while they've done their dirt, they show some form of repentance - the fuck alone.
Sadly, I get the feeling that ain't gonna happen anytime soon. But hey, stranger things have indeed happened, y'know? But come to think of it, I think George Carlin - God rest his soul - said it best when he said, "You know what would be good for a guy like me? Just to be in a fucking coma!"
But then again, I wouldn't be much good to anyone still here (i.e., my current and/or potential future RP partners) amirite? *sigh* So much for wishful thinking. But still, I'm getting sick and tired of certain things. My dad who's now in a detox clinic from getting far too fucked up to even stand, his crack-whore of a girlfriend along with her two daughters who are also associated with my dad's relapse problem, double-crossing scumbags who would just as soon stick a knife in your back and leave you there to bleed out to death while they laugh it up all the way to the bank. I'm sick of 'em. Really and truly sick of 'em. But then again, I've said this all in the past, so this really ain't nothing new, so I'll spare the details and get straight to the point.
Apparently, the brother of our former landlord got a hold of a friend of ma's at her old place of work, demanding that she pay him what she owed him. Guys, I dunno what more to tell you, but this to me is a clear and blatant breach of the No Contact order that was put in place several months ago. It doesn't go away after we've moved out. The judged ordered no contact with each other for anything, anyone or for whatever reason whatsoever. NOTHING.
RRRRRRGH. Fuckin' hell on a pogo stick and a set of moon shoes, my god. *double facepalm*
But then again, tonight's rant is about to get a bit more vitriolic, so I apologize ahead of time, folks.
So about last night, we had to go bring my father over to Butler Hospital for the detox clinic. Long story short, we got him there, I signed him in and all that shit mainly because he was so far in the bag that he couldn't even stand up and walk in a straight line even if his life depended on it. We were there for about three hours' worth where during the whole time, I sat there in the chair across from my dad while he was zoning in and out of a drunken sleep, glaring at him with flames threatening to shoot out of my eyes and cold steel running in my veins.
That was when I realized after a discussion that the doctor that there was a program I could participate in called Adult Children Of Alcoholics or some crap like that. As soon as I heard this, I immediately jumped on it mainly because - yes - I have got a nearly decade old grudge I harbor because of my dad's drunken misconduct.
Yes, I said it. Nearly TEN FUCKING YEARS I've been away from my dad all because of him being so stupefied with booze, vodka, cheap shit, and all of the aggravation that drove us all apart in the first place. It began with my mom, continued over to my brother who as we speak has nothing to do with him and wants nothing from him, yet I still believe that there is something within that man of nearly 58 years old this coming December - keep this in mind folks - that still lingers within him. Even if I gotta go in there and pull him out by the short and curlies to do it.
Though, here's what I request to the psychiatrists - my mom got this message from me when I told her this about a few months ago - when I get there to go see him. I request the following. No, not request. This is a flat out demand.
I demand that they don't hold me back from what I want to say to him. Don't ask me to sugarcoat anything, because that's on par with telling a lie. Don't ask me to mince words. Don't ask me to lower my voice. Don't ask me to not scream at him. Don't - I repeat: DON'T - fucking tell me to calm down when I'm in a stark raving lunatic ranting rage. Don't restrain me. Don't even breathe in my general direction overall. Just. Don't.
And if they don't like it, then that my friends is too goddamn bad. They can either follow with my demands or they can take my dad and keep him in that clinic until he gets the meaning of what it is I want him to say. I want him to feel the way I did ten years ago. Isolated. Left in a box with no lights on, no oxygen, all alone in a dark room with nowhere to go, nowhere to hide and nothing but the shame he brought upon us all for 16 years of the time I was alive. I want him to suffer with the anger I want to spew at him like Grade-A, 100% pure Black Mamba venom. Yes, people. I am that fucking sick and tired of the shit my father has done to himself for years on end. Yes, I am going to be a prick of misery. Yes, I'm going to be cruel. Yes, I am going to be heartless. Yes, I may as well become Satan personified with the things I want to say to my father. And yes, I may as well come off as perhaps the most evil, black hearted, soulless, vicious, wicked, vile, twisted son of a bitch this side of the Chesapeake Bay. Telling me otherwise at this point in time? Bad news, buddy-boy. You're getting the same honorary punk-out as I'll give those doctors or anyone else who dares try to tell me to settle down. Fuck no. I've had it. I'm sick and tired of it all. Sick and tired of the fact that I've been forced to sit on my hands and grit my teeth as I watched - day and night at that - that man I've known as my father for nearly 30 years of my life drink himself into a muddled stupor. Sick of it all, I tell you! FUCKING SICK OF IT!
But now that I'm given an outlet as to where I properly dispense all that anger, rage and frustration, I think this will be a step in the right direction into my own personal road to redemption. Yes, I'll admit it. I've done my years of dirt too, but I'm just fortunate enough to know full well that I can man up to the mistakes I've made and can make myself into a better person for it later in my life. Besides, I can't keep going with the massive weight that's been forced upon my shoulders and be expected to carry it all the way to the end of the road. I just can't.
Strangely, I feel better after letting it out here. But I know full well I can't let it go. Not just yet. Besides, I gotta hold it in for just a little longer up until I get called into that meeting. That's when I'll really let him have it. It might make me a prick, but then again, what would have done? Just let it go at the drop of a hat and walk away? No. Chances are, you're probably just like me, wanting to stash as much of your frustration away as possible and lay in wait for the right time; the right opportunity, even to let it all out and keep going and going until you got blood pouring from your eyes, sweat rolling down your forehead, your veins pulsating out from your neck and your jaw aches, but even then you'd still keep going without stopping, without hesitation, without relent, without mercy and without a conscience, if it really pissed you off. If it hurts, then goddammit, scream. If it makes you cry, then do it. If it makes you feel guilty afterward, then stop right there. Don't feel any guilt. Be numb. Steel yourself. Tell yourself that you're doing it all for the right purpose and JUST FUCKING DO IT. Don't puss out. Don't be a fucking wimp. Don't stop until you've finally driven it into their mile-thick skulls that you are NOT going to take it anymore and never, ever, EVER again. Not from no one, not from nothing. Let 'em hear your anguish. Let 'em hear you roar like a monster summoned from the fiery pits of hell and let them know just how much they've made you feel. Take no prisoners. Call them on their bullshit. Be a sadistic prick. Be whatever form you want to be and hold it there for as long as you can. Once you're done, you can let it go nice and easily before you're completely consumed. Ask Anakin Skywalker in Episode III. He'll tell you.
Hopefully, this lengthy post will give you some insight as to how I feel as of tonight. As I said before, I'm not a psychiatrist, but goddammit, I know when I've had enough. Or at least I think I know my own mind enough to figure that out.
Again, I apologize if this ranting and raving entry might have gotten out of hand, but I would like to state this. I do this for the betterment of my own sanity. Afterwards, I close it up and never look at it again unless if I want to make a personal reflection and how far I've come over the course of my life. Long story short, if I seemed to have scared people off, then I apologize for that. If it got people interested in wanting to talk to me about it, then that's their right. Let them talk to me about it. I'm not going to hold it against them if they choose to do so or not. As far as I know, my life has been pretty much an open book from start, checkpoint A, checkpoint B, checkpoint C, all the way to the finish. I only ask that you don't be too harsh on those that wish to talk to me.
*sigh* I guess that wraps things up for tonight. Hopefully this post or the song of the now doesn't scare people off. It's just been pretty difficult over the past few days and I needed something to release some of the pressure buildup, y'know? Anyways, this is BlisteredBlood signing out until next time.
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