Fragile little feelings

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Sympathy……….. without looking it up online the first thing that comes to mind is “feeling sorry or bad for someone”… i could understand that to a certain degree being there is a few things i have a soft spot for that seem to provoke that feeling in me..  but are you supposed to have “sympathy” for a sensitive person.. how about having sympathy for a sensitive or overly sensitive “man”..  i have had moments and am completely part of that topic being that the overly sensitive influence from “men” and “father figures” in my life left that trait completely noticeable about me. … i don’t know how or what a man is supposed to be or act like so that is how i assumed a “man” to be..  i was shown certain aspects of being a “man” which included taking everything personal and allowing your feelings to be hurt from the littlest of comments…

either my mother is completely rude or such a hard ass to the point where it could be manly or the men i was surrounded by are just fragile little girls with fragile little feelings… constructive criticism is aimed at helping another person better themselves only said out wanting to help someone.. but when a “man” confuses that for being a mean cut down, should a person question there motive in that comment being all you were doing was handing out constructive criticism..do you keep in mind the fragile little feelings men carry when you talk to them… either some people can’t handle that or feel without flaw i am guessing… you see my mothers not one for holding back a comment,  and the thought of being around “men” you wouldn’t think she would have to..

when your arguing it seems that nasty cut downs go along with it… are you not supposed to defend yourself because those “men” can’t handle it… she can cut you down and rip you apart if she has to but that doesn’t take place tell these “men” began calling her names that would shatter anyone women self worth.. she took the cut downs but then began her own cut downs towards them and without fail they couldn’t handle it and the fragile little feelings where hurt.. the men could dish it but god forbid if they had to take it… women aren’t made of stone and neither was mom but she wasn’t so sensitive that she would break down and fall apart like they would have wanted her to…

now how a “man” takes a genuine compliment as a cut down is something that has left me dumbfounded many times.. i can not make sense of any of that nonsense….

do you refrain from conversations because if a topic that gets brought up these “men” seem to take personal and some how make it seem you were implying it was all about them when you weren’t even thinking of them when the topic got brought up..

how do you revolve life around these fragile little feelings, how do women be women when a man acts like that? no one should have to cope with the fact that some people are completely self centered and have to watch what they say around emotional men cause god forbid they can’t handle what is being said.. the freedom of speech to say whats on your mind is wonderful but to limit, watch and filter what you say so you don’t hurt no ones feelings is horrible that completely takes you away from feeling comfortable with your opinion let alone with yourself.. no one should second guess their voice let alone have to find it..  im sure it confuses most to see a tough looking man be that sensitive..

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This shoe store

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vegas isn’t a city im fond of nor have i found it to offer anything other then a good night you can’t recall and cheap drugs within arms reach all within a sleepless city and a steady supply is something that i am assuming makes vegas worthwhile …. to find some one who’s not bitter and pissed at one thing or another let alone strung up or strung out on this or that is an odd thing to come across….. it’s not all pessimistic views for this city that raised me, vegas just suits some people more than others…  what keeps vegas interesting to me isn’t the tourist who occupy the strip get drunk and cause scenes , but to me it’s the moments that perhaps go unnoticed most… we drove through this shit hole shopping center looking for this shoe store we were told about .. walking into this store i noticed the extra security measures that were taken to at least attempt to prevent any robberies or vandalism from the surrounding neighborhood which isn’t an alright area … the bars on windows and the barbed wire on the roof to keep people out of the stores that their hopes revolves around… when i got into the store i noticed how it was only us in there despite the big sale that had been posted in the window, either were in a moment were we missed a lot of people or had been her only customers for the day… given the surroundings the store was in she had kept her store incredibly clean and neat as you could tell she loved it with how she took care of it… she was completely helpful with my mom in something that she needed.. she was running her store with her daughter who was probably only 9 or 10 and when my mother went to the counter ready to check out mom asked if she could check the zippers to her heels to make sure they worked, the lady grabbed a pair and went to zip it up…. in her daughter noticing her mom couldn’t get it to zip she grabbed the other heel and tried her self… you could tell with how her daughter jumped right into helping her mother without being asked that she was probably used to helping her mom…where the mom was struggling with it eventually the daughter spoke up and said she got it to work and showed my mom… the way her mom glanced over at her and smiled was beautiful.. you could see struggle, pain and maybe worry in the moms eyes but when her daughter got the zipper to work you could see this sense of relief and reliance that she had towards her daughter.. walking out of the store it reminded me of certain things in my life.. being relied on as a child showed me how important that comfort is in peoples life… some things are even clearer to see or feel when you have or have felt those same things in your life..

Finding God

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as a child and being told that all i have in this life is god… well… i come from a strong catholic background from my grandfather that lost its strength with my mother whom never pushed religion on any of us kids and left it for us to decide what to believe in… my grandfather on the other hand swore and lives by it… all his kids slowly strayed and found their ways in different churches other than the catholic church… i on the other hand prayed wholehearted as much as i could, especially being in the type of atmosphere i was in and feeling as alone as i felt i relied on god and not so much the church or religion those 2 did nothing for me, but in some strange way i thought god could… it started with prayers to have things change but i noticed the more i prayed for change the worse things became… then i started to pray for an intervention only to find even less of god in that… then the prayer for a sign that went unanswered and all i could think was how it did nothing for me and as steadfast in prayer as i was quickly changed to an all out avoidance of anything that had to do with “god” … i knew or at least i thought he was there but that i wouldn’t allow myself to feel completely ignored and shunned by god…

now had i known that “GOD” had his own twitter account i would never had second guessed his existence…. @thetweetofgod

a difference in influence

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father figures came and left throughout my childhood but the one that i seem to have held closest to me was my grandfather.. not the one who got off on preying on children but my actual blood grandfather .. he showed me a lot of things about life some maybe not the best because unfortunate circumstances in his life instead letting go of he clung to and became bitter from it and rightfully so with the hand he was dealt would turn anyone miserable so in seeing the life’s tough hand he was dealt i could understand certain bitter aspects he spoke of to me …. but with him being born in Brooklyn in the 40’s to Italian immigrants would form this old school persona and tough attitude that you couldn’t break or beat down.. not that height is ever a factor in anything but you would never guess that this guy as tiny as 5’4ish give or take would have as much courage as he did it is almost as if he has no concept of what fear is.. as hard as life seemed to be on him he had no vice other then a thrill of stirring political chaos which he seemed to have a remarkable ability to do… when i was born being that my real dad wanted nothing to do with me i seen through a photograph that he was the first man in my life to hold me.. as i grew older and he seen my mother had no intention on telling me who my real dad was and that the person raising me was only “step”, he must have felt she was taking to long to tell me and that being maybe 5 i was already man enough to handle knowledge like that so he told me…. he didn’t have nothing in his life he trusted or could turn to, my grand mother his ex wife whom he had 6+ kids with wouldn’t acknowledge him and of all the kids\grand kids and people in his life he found some kind of comfort in talking to me and around 11 years old i became more a confidant and his best friend than a grand kid because he said he already had to many of those and that he just needed someone to talk to… it would have seemed like i was his favorite and that he showed favoritism and who knows if that was the case but i enjoyed being around him and all the endless stories he shared and insisted he taught me, and he’d be the most loyal father figure that life would show me i had…

the love he had for women was something that was beyond being a womanizer as he could never let a pretty girl walk past him without him winking or saying hello he always says that gods greatest gift to man was women and that women could feel how much he loves them that’s why they love him so much… he taught me chivalry at its finest and told me “even more so then wining and dining women to also protect & respect them no matter what” , and surrounded by men who abuse women i held that lesson close…

in a comment that was said to me about being so close to my mother it was like we were having sex, i turned to my grand father and asked if i was weird for being so close to my mother and told him the comment i was told from my “step father” and as calm as he could turned to me and said there was nothing weird about it that the most beautiful relationship we can have is with our mother… and when i began to see the relationship between his mother and him i knew only a demented & twisted mind could have a comment like that… he explained how hard his mother made his life and how she treated him for having been so close to his father, he said that as much as his mom had put him through he didn’t see her nor would he treat her any different because that was his mother… seeing how much love he showed his mother who had alzhiemer’s and barely even recognized him was a bond i saw needed to be embraced….

he taught me having passion for things from accomplishments to loving\embracing your Italian heritage down to a little cup of coffee and holding moments that are dearest to you very close..

3 failed marriages one of which hes left with 5+ kids by himself to raise, left by his parents and living in quite a few foster homes as a child and how hes mother treated and rejected him his whole life until the point were she had alzheimer’s and only then was she able to show she loved him and then she finally passed, probably the only moment he might have felt his mothers love… it would explain why he carried certain issues toward women… there is a sadness you could see in his eyes and the way he carries himself when he walks.. life couldn’t make him flinch nor would he show any one that it took its toll, even in moments that bother him most and the tears fill his eyes as if pain and heartbreak just might have hit him but instead he hid them and most of the time wouldn’t allow himself to let the tears fall… he credits “god” for being able to make it through his life and that the devil was the reason for all the pain and strain he had to deal with…
in my childhood where CHIVALRY was non existent and being a “MAN” wasn’t even heard of, love and compassion were barely even shown, life seem to balance itself out when he came around….

provoking insanity part 3

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after i got rid of that imaginary place and gave up on prayer , i tried not thinking to much about what i was going through… those words and phrases of being told i had a warped mind and was slow would sit as dormant bubbles ready to pop at any given notice….. how do i relax or calm down my mind , it seemed to me that fear wasn’t going anywhere but eventually i could novicate it… drinking since 7th or 8th grade proved helpful and easy to get my hands on especially when certain family members insisted i drink with them despite barely being a teen, it didn’t matter what type of liquor as long as it did its job.. shots, mixed or straight out of the bottle was no difference to me.. but liquor eased a certain amount of pain because the nearer i got to the end of the bottle those troubled memories seemed to open its self up even more so… the first hit from the pipe was exactly what i had been needing , there’s something in the way it smelt right when you open the baggy, or the way it feels as you inhale and the burn you feel right after you exhale.. it was something to fog\cloud and make me feel some kind of sanity for awhile … every party i was at always had the pipe ready and a steady flow of liquor… the weed was constant i smoked it every chance i could apples and soda cans where my favorite cause they where the easiest to dispose of.. at that time drinking and pot was all i was into everything else served me no purpose….but eventually i stopped smoking pot and the next couple years i just stuck to drinking… but a friend who must have felt my pain offered comfort that could only come from a line … in offering his hand he had a straw and then i took it down…the sensation through my body and the taste from the drip set my racing thoughts\bad memories calm it set those moments and feelings of insanity suddenly sane… something that small no bigger than the nail on your pinky crushed into a line anywhere you desire, something so small does something nothing\no one and not even i could have done for myself.. to me god not only came in the form of a piece of bread on sunday but in any shape or form even of that which is bad for you.. being almost 20 and finally coming across this, finally some sort of delusional sanity i convinced myself of.. i wish i would have found that sooner being i was told i was on drugs all my life… the random states of hallucinating where incredible it was something to switch it all up where my imagination came to life and the reality i was living in all of a sudden became bent… and coke, if i was looking for a high that consisted of something more than a delusional reality and drifting in and out of sleep and wanted to stay up and drink all night there is nothing more enjoying than not only numbing your nose but numbing memories as well… all the comfort that it offered wasn’t enough but some how i convinced myself that it was because as high as i was allowed no room for bad memories and the more i thought i did the more normal i thought i felt.. all my life i searched for this “normal” or “sane” way of being and even though id be lying if i said i didn’t enjoy the drugs or the way i felt on them they only served as a momentary escape from myself.. seeing how the men in my life acted on meth and the monsters they became on it was the only drug i wouldn’t allow myself to do but it’s not my place to judge anyone’s choice\preference in whatever soothes\pacifies them…   i see that this person who tried convincing me as a kid i was slow, insane and brain dead was coming from someone who is strung out on meth , paranoid and going mad.. all of what he was telling me i was he was feeling going on with him… do you forgive that when it’s not their fault knowing meth altered who they where or accepting of the fact they “claim” sobriety in all they said and did to you as a child… the words of the course of years is what convinced me as a kid i had a warped mind.. in an asylum like atmosphere where you already lay vulnerable to losing your mind combined with the repetition of convincing statements like having a “warped mind” is what was provoking my insanity..

provoking insanity part 2

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as a child and unsure about certain things with how or why i was treated a certain way. and being told how i was acting was weird and that my brain was warped because…….. well i was never really sure what i did that made it seem like i had a “warped mind” especially being that young anyways i didn’t know what it meant to have a fucking “warped mind”.. so….. i went within and started creating stories of a different kind of life.. what my perception as a kid of this so called “normal” life and a “normal” way of being…………………………………as i lay down in my room by myself and as quiet as i could get the room i went somewhere else………….. i could make it feel so real..  i could go anywhere i wanted, anywhere at all….i hated who i was as a child so i created me older.. mid 20’s maybe..i put myself far away from a life i new.. i took it to new york, particularly the city.. not knowing anything of out side of vegas it felt like i was so familiar with new york and all its streets.. i had absolute control of this world and made it feel so real and if i felt i added something wrong or didn’t like i erased it and re did it… i could hear footsteps of people walking down the street and the conversations they carried.. the doors open or close.. lights being turned on or off.. noisy intersections.. everything…… i created the most loyal of friends who accompanied me there.. when i thought it should rain, i started to see it.. or when i ended up in central park i thought how beautiful it would look to see it snow there and i made it happen.. i could feel the snow flakes drop on my cheeks and my breath in the air as i walk the park… i created and could feel this sense of “happiness” and perhaps a sense of being okay with myself.. i imagine at some point i would be hungry and thirsty so i would walk into and “enjoy” some italian restaurant.. i did things i felt i could never have done like voicing my opinion or standing up for myself so in this world i created i incorporated altercations that would or could arise and only there i could be this person i was never comfortable with… out of pure wonder i added an emotion that i thought and wondered if i could connect with… love….. i substituted my waking life for an imaginary one and went there often.. i used it as an escape… and couldn’t wait to get back there… as real as it felt, and as real as i made it… i new it wasn’t… but it gave me a momentary escape with what i was going through… but the moment i seen the movies “gothika” and “hide and seek” quickly made that imaginary place disappear, and out of curiosity of wondering what insanity and a broken mind was i looked it up and it scared away any kind of imaginary place that i created.. i didn’t feel insane or warped but his convincing statements and words was like he was provoking my insanity…

provoking insanity part 1

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you swear your memory serves you right, how could it be wrong when its something that plays so clear in your mind you can actually feel the pain\emotions that was felt in it…. why would someone convince themselves certain things happen when it never even took place, especially if its traumatizing.. correcting a memory that’s a little off is necessary because you don’t want to add to it let alone forget anything important… but telling you that something is wrong with you, or that your mind is gone or warped because the person who put you through all that hell doesn’t want to admit all hes done, so they try and convince you your going insane.. maybe subconsciously out of hope you’ll question everything you thought you went through with them.. after being told that for so often you begin questioning your own sanity. eventually i was told i was to fucking to slow to amount to anything or that i didn’t graduate because i was to slow.. for whatever reason he felt that he should be instilling comments like that in a kids mind he adds to that already convincing statement he said the reason i was slow was because my mother was on drugs during her pregnancy with me… which later on i found out that my “step father” was lying about that… the chaotic atmosphere was already unreal to me anyways but for someone to try and convince me it didn’t happen that i was delusional and my mind was warped was even more frightening.. i began to believe i had a broken mind and that all i had been through was making me insane… the most haunting of memories played so clear and seemed to be repeating itself in my mind as the statements are being said i am losing it… i began fearing insanity as if it were it’s own person, i refused to even speak of or acknowledge anything of it’s nature… but in an atmosphere where things are so chaotic so often its insanity… an insane atmosphere.. how do you maintain any kind of sanity in that? how do i calm down my mind or even get it to stop… prayer? prayer served no purpose for me then…. i relied on that till i saw prayer for some reason only worsened things and if god of all people didn’t get it or make it stop then nobody would get it or understand it… being alone and feeling that loneliness as a kid bothered me occasionally but where i seem to feel insanity at it’s closest with me were the moments where i am by myself at home and there isn’t any sort of noise going on, things are so silent it’s deafening and the memories seem to be getting louder the more silent the house became… i could fool the best with making it seem like i was calm and alright, but within i was screaming for some kind of change, to maybe feel some kind of normal within because my “stepfather” convinced me as a child something was wrong with me… my imagination was something my mother had us kids carry and hold on to as long as we could… when things would get bad or completely insane i started calming all that down with a whole nother world i began to create with my imagination… creating something within where i began to feel safe, something normal and where i wouldn’t feel so alone…