Riduckulous Doguments of Rambles

Ah!

The power of Human Emotion!

Okay, I get so much of this is bullshit. I get so many of these emotions are over-blown. After all, what else would I expect? Follow the same ole story line, of the ending would be the same. Just recently having the excuse to glance at some old writing, and this was a theme of one of those poems I randomly looked at. But this time it is different. This time I understand more, I know more, I’ve seen more. In this third chapter of this volume of my life, I am noticing a new change, new growth, new improvement. I am writing in whole sentences. The short stanzas, the struggling for the beat of sorts isn’t enough any more. I am able, I am needing to turn my emotions into whole sentences. I am telling you, for me that is amazing. That gives me true hope that someday I can put this massive pain carried in my heart into a coherent format so I can release and be free.

I want nothing more then a friend, but that doesn’t make the bruises less painful. There isn’t anything I want more in a friend, then shedding the puddles of our failures by each others side. There isn’t anything more I want in a friend then that companion that is willing to battle gravity, that can thrive in that pain of growth as less and less can maintain a hold on us. We all now how it is to want, so for now I settle for love and the obituary on hand and ready.

If the fear of being triggered is so intense, that I am a horrible person, then would somebody insist on holding the gun?

If the first thing that one does is bless their new home, then why would the second thing to do is invite in evil?

I’m not a trigger, I’m just the target. I’m always the target. The more I hold a hand, the larger the bull’s eye on my back is. The larger the bull’s eye, the greater the urge to pull the trigger. It is that simple, that simplistic.

Training is a beautiful thing. The earlier you are trained to be a man hater, the earlier you are trained to take the blame for being male, the better you are at taking the punches. I get it, I’ve been there time and time again. I know it isn’t me why I am attacked, but the battering just fucking hurts. I build walls, every day the wall gets higher, every day the mural gets prettier, and every day I can never forget my every action must be in support of me getting so far away that nobody can get to me, and I can never get to anybody unless the hearts and motives are absolutely pure. That is the only way for me and the world to be safe from me. ‘Til then, all I can do is power forward knowing the desperation I need someone to help counter-balance the hell of Oildale, the hell of people.

At least, I get enough of a human emotion to write.

Now excuse me, Cuutoo is demanding food.

1. Be so grateful someone was willing to hold your heart that moment you needed someone, you would do anything for them, as if they saved your life.

2. Be unable to say no to enabling and being that drinking buddy because the slightest bit of warm attention made you think you could actually matter, and even with the drinking, be stupid enough to think you could make a difference.

It really is that simple.