NiceDudeGuy

The Mystery, Misfortune and Mayhems of t
2002-12-13 02:27:06 (UTC)

The Horrid Week From Hell

AHHHhhh Tampa, the time in a boys ROTC life where he can
relax get some head and become a man, then again, my life
isn’t ROTC and nothing ever goes my way so the trip was a
mixture of happy euphoric moments overshadowed by dark sad,
twisted complexions of my true feelings being crushed under
the spit-shined boots of my fellow cadets. The whole ride I
felt ignored and swept aside, as my writings describe…
rejected, dejected, and used as a go-between for their own
purposes. Other than that, the trip up was a fucking
blast. The room was the only thing that kept my manic
depressive state of mind from going over and blasting a
nice and neat 9mm entrance hole into the front of my head,
splitting my brain in two, and leaving a larger, more
distorted exit hole in the back of my head. I needed that
stay up all night, with a group of friends, and a hell lot
of coffee to help me either get my shit straight or distort
it so much I cant realize i'm still in the same hell hole
as before, I yet cant decide which one. The drill meet
Saturday reminded me just how lonely I can be while
surrounded by people. “have you ever been at some place,
recognizing everybody’s face until u realized that there
was no one there you knew?” yes I have. Truth be told,
that’s my life everyday, surrounded by caring,
understanding faces, yet feeling alone, and in the dark.
Sunday was more a day of reflection into my self hatred and
self isolation more than anything, also as my last time
ever to Tampa, I got a shotglass out of it, thanks to
jarhead. In my diary I wrote such entries as, “I am alone,
with everyone surrounding me, claustrophobia, agoraphobia,
panic sets in” and “HA behind this mask, a wall of lies I
hide the truth, thinly veiled, fortify my walls of lies,
put up a solid smile to hide behind, impenetrable the
bullshit that I speak to get me out of situations where the
remains of my heart can further be sliced and diced and fed
to the multitudes of hungry savages yearning to destroy
what is left of me”. Busch gardens was a blast, enjoying
my last moments of happiness, distract my overworking mind
from the darker shadows where the demons lurk. Once we left
the confines and safety of such a distraction, and onto the
shadows again, the demons come out to play. In the form of
isolation, rejection, replacement, and worst of all, my own
inner thoughts. Do I have someone to distract me? Only my
sick demented self, contorting and twisting the norm to
produce a sick faction of what is remotely truth, all
bullshit. After about 3 hours of this dementia, and being
reminded of my imperfections and handicaps by my superiors,
the long drive to hell continues. Notice how I call the
ride to and from the long ride to hell, for hell is not
ahead or behind me, but inside my mind, and until death, we
are all going forth into our own minds, mine being my own
hell from which I can be distracted, but never escape
from. Throughout the whole trip, I wanted nothing more
than to talk to the girl I’ve most admired more than any
other living female remotely close to my age. Deep down
inside, knowing nothing will ever stem from this horrid
mixture of absolute commitment, deep enamor and
irreversible hatred and psychological ageing. Her smile,
her laugh, her eyes, her nose, everything about her, her
aura, her essence her presence, is enough to overshadow the
imperfections. Her smell drives me crazy, her simply being
there in the same room sends a chill up my spine. I
constantly find myself “wondering, fearing, doubting,
dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before” (EAP –
the raven)
“But in the morrow [she] will leave me, as my hopes have
flown before”. This chain of events, the rejection,
isolation, happiness, more isolation, and carnal want of
another human being was nothing but stage setting for later
that night. My parents, all though I love them, seem to
take me for granted, and it will hurt them greatly when I
am gone and they realize this. My mother, not ONCE has she
come to see me perform or do a color guard, my father, once
came, late, and the many broken promises he has given me
can hardly be something to be said in the finite amount of
space provided on this website. Neither could my father
provide me moral, emotional, psychological or financial
support, but his many guilt trips he sends me on for not
being the perfect son, although I see him all of 2-3 days a
month, is enough to make me reminisce in the days of heavy
drug use and suicide flirtations. And my mother, my
mother, works so hard, has so many priorities over the
important, I come in a distant 7th or 8th. While
physically here, emotionally she could be dead for all I
know. She knows of maybe 3 friends of mine, never do we
communicate of life, sex, drug use, alcohol, girls nothing,
I don’t have a mother I have a mom. As for my father, HA
let me not begin to describe every disappointment I’ve had
to swallow like a jagged rotten pill. His latest caper was
to promise us Christmas in Georgia, fun in the snow, ba ba
ba bullshit… today he has made public fact that bringing
his second, better, family will be too expensive, plus the
gifts he has to buy them, 40 dollar RC car, Barbie doll
house, cruise to the Bahamas, I’m glad things didn’t turn
bad before THAT, its just too much, so its cheaper to spend
yet ANOTHER holidays away from his first “noble experiment”
and see if I’m still here the next year or the one after
that. Now I get to spend the holidays within the confines
of my asylum here in Miami. As my family, crazy and lunatic
as they are, strive to reach a further level of psychotic
ness by every move and comment I make everything analyzed
and corrupted as a foul movement. I am going insane, this
shit Is all about pain, I cannot retain as the shit oozes
out of my brain…. I’m out, the pain is too unbearable,
drugs are out of reach, and alcohol will only tame the
beast for a while and release it with a vengeance.




Ad: