Honesty and Other Things That Can Destroy You

"I fucked my life up."

--Dave Brockie

"The truth will set you free."

--Some Lying Prick

Both of these quotes mean a lot to me especially when it comes to taking ownership over my life. Over the years, I've done some horrible things and met some horrible people. I won't specify but short of murder and rape if you can think if it chances are I've done it. Maybe I don't deserve success. Maybe I don't care if I deserve it or not. I'm damn sure not going to stop trying to attain it.

If God exists, if some all-knowing Comic in the Sky really did give me creative talent, I'm not about to provoke Him/It into kicking my ass any further than my ass has been kicked by the omnipotent fuckstick; I barely have one left. Since age 15 I've done my level best to make sure humans have to work really fucking hard to kick my ass. But God? He's got it easy. Oh yeah. Every single day. It seems as though He has found his favorite hobby in kicking the ever-loving dogshit out of me until I lie bleeding from the anus and grinding my teeth on my bed. If I make it that far. Occassionally, the floor appeals.

The truth is I am a bastard and a lover. I'm not beautiful. I'm a mean and maybe evil motherfucker when someone pisses me off. My guts roil with anguish and hate on a constant basis--constant I say again, never mind daily--which I try to hide underneath positivity and my odd ability to inspire others. It is through doing this and by creating mainly through writing that I find some semblance of peace.

I feel sorry for my wife. I haven't touched her in a long time even though I love her very much. Worse, my skin crawls when she touches me lately. That's a terrible fucking thing to admit but it is the truth. I hope it stops soon because she is far too wonderful a woman to have to deal with such tripe.

I'm not saying any of this to impress anyone. Shit, if you're impressed, boy are you fucked up. Maybe we should go bowling. I'm always open to a good round of bowling.

OK, enough honesty. Especially in public. I must be crazy for posting this but then again I have the papers to prove that I am. Some say it takes strength to admit things like this. My father would have kicked me around the living room floor for showing this kind of weakness. Oh well. Fuck him. He's a cunt. Having said all of this, do I feel set free? No.

I have the Fear--no, screw that--The DOOM.

See you next time. Stay frosty.