“I thought I heard a baby crying.”

 I always wanted to be a writer more than anything I wished I had acquired the ability to write well.

As I stroll through my own personal apocalypse as the world threatens to burn with nuclear fire. I type away or read a book (lately been reading about two or three hundred pages a day). 

I think the reason I still fear reading with actual anxiety is there is a fear of revealing myself too much. Of being wounded again. Even if it is a sucker punch sent from myself to myself. It’s a real fear I remember having a talking too that make Ralph lee ermy look tame by my pre-medicated mother (who has changed and I forgive her). Just yelling at me for hours for being so stupid and unable to read till I was much older then I should have been.

Of thinking this was the normal way to behave and treating my younger brothers the same way. All that hatred and yelling was a waste of energy.

One of the younger brothers recorded me yelling at him and showed it to the whole family and they decided to not tell me. Till I was in my mid thirties.

“I have heard you yelling at them. Going off just screaming.”

My response was “do you know what the definition of a conspiracy is?” 

Here is my dad lying to my face is a very passive aggressive way. As if my yelling was not a learned behavior. As if the years of my family pulling the rug out from under my feet… every time I tried to move on for the first five years of my young adulthood… from kicking me out in the Great Recession to never acknowledging they did. To telling me that “we didn’t kick you out, we just didn’t let you come back.”

So I slept on the couch of a drunk brother (who was not the one I yelled because he was about my age) who put a gun to my head and said “do you want to play Russian roulette?” Nor where else to go and they wouldn’t let me come home. 

They split my possessions among themselves from my childhood bedroom that I never took with me till I came back to get them after my diagnosis… they had all been sold or split up among the pirate joyful justice of the reward for swashbuckling heroic ass holes.

Often the memory of my childhood is that of a looney tunes renditions of Saturn devouring his children.

The problem with my life is I have learned I can’t escape it and describing what is happening or has happened to me makes other people physically cringe.

I would drive away into the sunset of tomorrow if I had somewhere to go and could afford a car.

Peace and love.

Be safe out there friends.