Category Archives: Uncategorized

Blank…

No conviction in your numb mind
A hidden cell of chemicals
Keep your soul on my projection
Never turn on the camera

Because I kinda like the blank way
I fill up my life
I care for nothing
That gets me too high

I want some dampened spirits
And black and bitter spoons
I’m not looking for affection
I’m living on the moon

No conviction in your voice box
It’s buried low beneath the guilt
It all seems real as you whisper
She lies warm and the smell is you
But she knows

Here I am
Right at home
In my crater

Here I am
Feeling old

Here I am
Wishing for
A miracle

I need you to know

That I like the blank way
I fill up the sky
And I care for nothing
You put in my mind

I like the blank way
You fill up my mind

Death to the Mom & Pop’s

Subject : Death to the Mom & Pops…
Posted Date: : Dec 8, 2006 5:48 PM

NYC is changing. It used to be a place where you could find anything, no matter how insane, at any time of the day or night. You need a bloody chicken feather of a Jamaican chicken? A severed bat wing from the african congo? A cardboard cutout of a midget stripper in a top hat? Ask someone, and chances are – you’d find it. This was made possible by the Mom & Pop shops… This is what made this city the GREATEST PLACE ON EARTH!

Starbucks and Jamba Juices are popping up faster than I can blink an eye. There is literally one on every single corner, sometimes 2 on the same block! I don’t know about you all, but the Jamba Juice craze has not caught me yet. I just don’t see it and I just don’t “taste” it. The Mom & Pop Health Food Store on 23rd St. makes the best damn carrot/apple/beet juice I’ve EVER HAD. Why? Because they squeeze a drop of love into every cup, that’s why!

Chelsea Guitars is probably one of the most famous Vintage Guitar shops on the east coast. Made famous by none other than Sid & Nancy Vicious of Sex Pistols fame and, of course, the Chelsea Hotel. It’s been there forever! It may possibly be closing down now to make way for a fucking Starbucks! Wow… Why? Well, because Starbucks can afford the $10K a month rent while the Mom & Pop’s of yesteryear can not. With rents on the incline, UE on the incline and shopping on a decline this year – who could afford such high rent besides the legal crack dealers like coffee shops?

Tower Records, while no Mom & Pop but certainly no Virgin Mega-Store Conglomerate… is now closing. That store was like a staple in my childhood, well that and Sounds on St Marks and Other Music on West 4th. All of which are music stores that I would actually look forward to visting on weekends with my friends. They were the perfect places to feed my growing musical addiction and my oddball taste in sound.

Religious Sex is gone, Antique Boutique is gone, Unique is gone… All of the great Goth and Vintage stores. The places I’d go to blow $350 on a victorian gown that I couldn’t possibly wear anywhere, but was handmade and to die for gorgeous so I just HAD to have it.

As for the vintage stores, I remember a time when vintage jeans cost $0.50 not $250. I remember when 80’s concert T-Shirts were no more than $5.00 – now they are $200-$300. As a matter of fact, I actually remember when Bazooka cost $0.02 rather than $0.05. I remember when shit was “real” and people were REAL. Now, everyone is trying so hard to be “different” meanwhile, being normal is actually the new “different”. Wow, do I sound old?

Well, I AM!

CBGB’s? Gone. Not like it was all that “cool” anymore. That place sort of lost it’s luster awhile back for me. When the good hardcore bands stopped playing there and it became a sort of EMO/Punk rather than a Rebel Punk hangout like it was in the 80’s/90’s. However, it was still a huge part of NYC music history. Limelight? GONE! Turned into some insane guido bar where people get shot and raped. Certainly NOT the freak boutique it used to be. Not the place where you’d have to wait on line for 3 hours and be nice to “Kenny” and “Aphrodite” at the front to get in and you better believe that you HAD to look good and NOT be a poser!

Next they will tell me that Billy’s Bakery, Marty’s Cool Stuff and Screaming Mimi’s are closing.

::Sigh::

This used to be a cool town…

NYC Subway Chronicles – Part V

Subject : NYC Subway Chronicles – Volume 5
Posted Date: : Nov 17, 2006 12:15 PM – myspace.com

Picture this:

Bright, shiny, unseasonably warm Friday morning in November. The hoards make their way through pedestrian traffic, filing down the overcrowded escalators to the Path train platform in lovely Journal Square, NJ. The time is 9:15 AM – a new day has begun.

I board the train and grab a seat. The train fills up pretty quickly and before I know it a rather tall black man is standing in front of me holding the handrail. We take off.

About 5 minutes passes and I happen to look up. Now keep in mind that the way the trains are situated is strange enough, meaning that if a woman is sitting in a seat and a man is standing in front of her, it DOES look rather sexual in nature. Picture it? Good… Hold that picture.

I look up and the guys fly is wide OPEN and to make matters worse he is not wearing any draws. So, the first thought that goes through my head is this: He is doing this on purpose.

Then the ADD kicks in again and I start wondering all of the following:

Doesn’t he feel a breeze?

How can you wear jeans without underwear? Isn’t that horribly uncomfortable? Don’t his balls hurt?

How do you just casually forget to zip up your fly?

Does anyone else notice this?

Am I noticing this because subconsciously I was staring at his crotch? If so, why? I am not even remotely attracted to this dude… or AM I?

How can I be attracted to this dude? He isn’t even my type. He is a complete yuppy, I hate yuppies.

Should I say something?

Then before I can think any further I say “Dude, your dick is about it make an appearance and I really can’t speak for this nice woman beside me – but I am not really interested in his Path train debut – so maybe you can shut the barn door? Thanks.

My damned big mouth. He turns away zips up and runs to the other side of the train mortified. I say, oh well… check your dick at the door dude.

NYC Subway Chronicles – Part IV

Subject : NYC Subway Chronicles – Volume 4
Posted Date: : Oct 19, 2006 1:32 PM – myspace.com

Oh it’s time again, kiddies… Ready?

Now for those of you who are not from the wonderful city of New York, please keep in mind that the 4, 5, E and 6 trains are quite possibly the most CROWDED and busiest trains in the entire subway system. When I say CROWDED, I mean like you can get pregnant from riding the damn train. People are THAT close…

So with that being said, I am on the 5 train, on my way down to Wall Street to meet Craig at the gym. The train is, of course, crowded like Jane Fonda’s ass used to be tight. I squeeze myself onto the train, into the middle and try as hard as I can to reach for a metal bar to hang onto.

I am already out of my mind with New York impatience, and people just won’t budge. You see, what happens is that the space inside the trains right by the door gets overcrowded and STUPID FUCKERS do not understand the concept of moving into the train to increase the “flow” if you will. So, if you get stuck in that space by the door, you have about 50 people angrily pushing you towards the crowded mass of nastiness and that crowded mass refuses to move with you.

I finally work my way through these crazies and make it to the middle. Directly behind me is an asian couple standing dead center in the aisle (pick a DAMN side) and taking up all kinds of space while they make out with very loud, wet and disgusting tounge action in my ear. They are so close that I could feel the heat of their breath on the back of my exposed neck. Directly in front of me is an asian “mentally challenged” older man who is meticulously slicing newspaper with a mini razor blade as the girl sitting next to him recoils in horror.

With no place to move, I keep my mouth shut and decide to wait it out. Hopefully, things will clear out a bit next stop.

::Next Stop::

Things do not clear out at all, as a matter of fact, it gets worse. A very tall Middle Eastern man boards the train and strategically places himself right up against me. My backside is to him, almost like a “standing spoon” if you will. The train takes off and Middle Eastern man decides that maybe it’s time to rub himself up against my badunkadunk (for you non-ghetto people, that is my more than ample ass).

About 30 seconds pass and he does not stop so being that my boiling point had just reached it’s max, I turned around and screamed at him to stop “Dry humping” me on the train and that if he does it again, I would “slice his goddamned throat open in the middle of rush hour”.

Needless to say, he stopped and then quickly ran off of the train at the next stop.

I would have actually grabbed mini razor and sliced his damn throat had he even attempted to do it again.

Moral of the story, you can step on me, push me around, etc – NEVER EVER molest me because I will fucking kill you.

NYC Subway Chronicles – Part III

Subject : NYC Subway Chronicles – Volume 3
Posted Date: : Oct 5, 2006 10:26 AM – myspace.com

Yeah, it’s been awhile. Amazingly, things have been quiet on the subway. No crazies to speak of, no bums urinating in the corner of the train, etc. It was a good 2 week run. Until this morning…

::enter creepy music::

I am sitting on the train, reading about the “Amish Schoolchildren Killer” (what the FUCK is UP with that? Dayum!) in the newspaper when “Queen Crazy” decides she will sit directly next to me when like 40 other seats are available. Typical.

This woman, probably about mid 30’s, gets on the train with a stroller. She settles her fat ass in next to me and starts to dote over the “baby”. Everything seemed somewhat normal to me, until I looked down at the “baby”.

::drumroll please::

“Baby”= not a baby at all, but a side of fucking BEEF! Is she kidding me? This woman is actually walking around pushing a stroller with a side of beef wrapped up in a fucking baby blanket? COME ON! The people of NYC have reached new heights for me now. She was literally talking to it, tickling it, trying to feed it a bottle of milk. HOLY SHIT.

At this point I am so transfixed by her obvious mental breakdown, that my newspaper falls off of my lap, my iced coffee starts to spill between my legs and the guy next to me is like “Miss, you are spilling your coffee, and oh and are you done with that paper?”.

The following is EXACTLY what went through my twisted ADD mind:

“Am I the only one who is seeing this? How is everyone not completely FREAKED out? Then my mind starts reeling. Maybe I am the only one who sees this. Maybe I am the one who is actually crazy? Maybe it’s the first signs of crazy? I have lost it! I can’t start screaming about how this chicks baby is a side of beef with a baby bottle jammed into it. Maybe it actually WAS a baby and she skinned it in some sick twisted kind of satanic baby sacrificing ritual? AND if so, maybe I am next! Maybe she is a terrorist and that is actually a bomb disguised as a side of beef disguised as a baby! Maybe it’s ticking. If I concentrate real hard maybe I will hear it ticking? Do modern bombs even tick anymore? Maybe this is a test and she chose to sit next to me because the government is doing random “crazy” tests of NYC commuters to see what reaction we will have? (Then I start getting delusions of grandeur) Maybe she was planted next to me because “they” know about my NYC Subway Chronicles blogs and want to feed me stories to write about? Maybe I am part of some big, huge experiment like that show “Lost”. It’s the only explanation considering that NONE of these people have noticed or freaked out from this beef baby. Doesn’t it start to rot and smell after awhile? How does she avoid that? Does she have like a stock of beef in her fridge at home and she takes out a new one every couple of days and wraps it in the blanket?”

Let me tell you, the 10 minutes next to her on the train this morning was so exhausting that I had a hard time walking up the 2 mile long staircase to my office building.

Yeah, two words… HOLY SHIT!

What is WRONG with people in this city? And more importantly, what is wrong with ME?

NYC Subway Chronicles – Part 2.5

Subject : NYC Subway Chronicles – Volume 2.5
Posted Date: : Sep 20, 2006 7:56 AM – myspace.com

I usually wouldn’t post something so soon after my first volume, HOWEVER, this one deserves its own half volume.

This morning I took the early train to work. My normal hours are 10-6PM so I get to ride the train at about 9:15 AM. This morning I had to be at work early, so I caught the 7:15 train.

It’s a whole new world at that hour!

I live in Journal Square, Jersey City which is a pretty rough neighborhood. It’s certainly NOT Mahwah, NJ – “Home of the NJ Soccer Mom”. JSQ is a healthy mix of Jesus freaks, Islamics, Crackheads, hookers, criminals and bag ladies. This story is about the latter.

Every morning I see the same bag lady. She smells ungodly, but besides that is a very pleasant human being. She smiles and says “Good Morning” to passerby. This morning I was able to witness a whole NEW side to her.

I get on the train and take a seat. I am lost in a world of “Transatlantism” by Death Cab for Cutie on my trusty iPod when I notice said bag lady board the train. She drops her stuff in the corner of the train, looks around, then literally pulls down her pants, pops a squat and takes a piss. She then proceeds to wipe her stank vagina hole with old dirty newspaper.

As you can imagine, people on the train start running, screaming. It was mayhem. I didn’t move because #1 – She was clear on the other side of the train and #2 – I wasn’t gonna give up MY seat!

Spoken like a true New Yorker…:)

Hopefully, my day will be nothing but uphill from here.

NYC Subway Chronicles – Part II

Subject : The NYC Subway Chronicles – Volume 2
Posted Date: : Sep 19, 2006 5:16 PM – myspace.com

I had the distinct pleasure of not only witnessing a couple almost break out into a fistfight, but being PART of it. Yay.

I am sitting on the Path train, minding my own business. I am knee deep into the childhood of Marilyn Manson (great book by the way) and pretty much oblivious to my surroundings. I certainly welcome that state of mind on the train because most times I am paranoid of terrorists.

Anyway, some insanely UGLY chick with serious acne and a bad sense of fashion gets on the train at 9th Street in NYC with her semi good looking black boyfriend.. All is well when we get to Christopher street. As soon as we pull out of the station, FUGLY blows up. She starts screaming at the black guy at the top of her lungs and getting all up in his face. Black guy, looking VERY embarrassed, steps away from her and moves towards the back of the train and just so happens to stop right in front of my seat and holds the hand rail.

About 4 or 5 minutes goes by and FUGLY loses it again. However, this time her anger is directed at ME! She starts screaming at her boyfriend – this is exact quotes here:

“Why you move over to that bitch? You like her? You want to FUCK her? You think she is HOT? FUCK YOU, you ASSHOLE!” Fugly is now foaming from the mouth and staring at me like a pit bull stalks a squirrel in the city park.

I, being my new “non-confrontational” self, just ignore her and smile to myself that someone can be so unreasonably insane, IN PUBLIC. I guess this pisses her off even more, so she starts just blindly screaming at the top of her lungs on the train about how much she hates him and she wishes he would die.

THANK BABY JESUS that we finally pulled into JSQ and I was able to escape, physically unscathed with my mental state still intact. No rage, no fistfight, no harm. Yay for me!

As for dude, I feel for him. He wasn’t even looking at me. Seriously, I would have noticed. Then again, I shouldn’t feel that bad for him because either he has done SOMETHING to make that bitch so crazy, or he is just plain old DUMB for staying with a bitch that crazy.

Fucking NYC subways…. Always a source of entertainment. There was also a moral to this story for me because not too long ago, I SNAPPED out on Craig in public. I had myself a little rage-out, which is something I haven’t done in like 5 years. I was actually running through the streets, barefoot, screaming so loud that someone called the cops on me. Yeah. It was like I was looking at a mirror of that night and it made me realize what a FUCKING FREAKSHOW I must have looked like! haha! Poor Craig.

Even though I have done the same thing, that bitch is STILL crazy.

NYC Subway Chronicles – Part I

Subject : NYC Subway Chronicles – Volume 1
Posted Date: : Sep 15, 2006 1:58 PM – myspace.com

It is REALLY amazing what you see on the train everyday. I am NOT talking about the bums that literally shit in their pants and then wipe the feces all over the train doors. I’m not talking about the crazy lady who sits and argues with herself about whether or not Donald Duck is a virgin. Nor am I speaking about the sniveling, drooling, overweight dude with the wet stain on the front of his pants from pre-ejaculation staring at you like he’s never seen a woman before. I’m talking about the purely shallow. The simple choices people make every morning when they leave the house. I’m talking about FASHION!

 

The following is a list of things I have ACTUALLY seen in the last month:

 

1. A woman who probably weighed about 450 lbs and was easily over 6 feet tall wearing a painfully bright fluorescent green blouse with teased to the moon bleached blonde hair sprayed to a hardened shell with Aqua Net. She actually had on matching green eye makeup, yes FLUORESCENT green eye makeup. She was also sporting a pair of bright lemon yellow pumps. What a way to call attention to yourself!

 

2. A girl who was certainly attractive enough. She had a very cute figure and a very nice Channel wool suit on. I was quite impressed and then I happened to glance down to see the worst thing I have ever seen! She was wearing grey pantyhose WITH flip-flops! YES, I said Pantyhose and FLIP-FLOPS. HUH???!

 

3. A very attractive Indian girl. She was actually quite beautiful. She was all dressed to the nines. Black skirt suit, great body, gorgeous hair, perfect makeup and open toe stiletto pumps. Sounds terrific, eh? Well this chick had the LONGEST toes I have ever seen. Seriously, they looked like fingers. They were SO long that they actually dragged on the ground as she walked scratching off all of her toenail polish and causing her skin to peel off and bleed! OK, so you have long toes. No big deal. Just wear closed toe shoes to avoid the massive PAIN you will be in if you don’t. Wow.

 

4. Another woman, I actually felt bad for this one. I’d say she was closer to 50 than 40 years old. She was wearing all white. When she got up to get off the train it looked like someone shot her in the ass! I guess she must have had her period. There was BLOOD EVERYWHERE. On the seat, on her ass, even on the end of her hair. DAYUM. OK, DO NOT WEAR WHITE WHEN YOU HAVE A HEAVY FLOW. Shit…. The poor guy next to her saw her, looked at her then empty seat and jumped up like I have never seen a man jump in my life. He recoiled in horror and ran to the other side of the train to escape the pool of blood swooshing around her seat.

 

5. The guy with the bad wind-blown toupee that was lopsided and remained that way for the entire ride. Doesn’t he feel that? It boggles my mind…

 

6. Not really fashion related, but sort of. Anyways, stop me if you’ve heard this one… A beautiful Indian girl walks on the train. It is raining outside. The beautiful girl is wearing a white wife beater, white flowing skirt and gold flip flops. She is soaked to the bone. She is NOT wearing a bra. Her breasts are more than ample. EVERY MAN ON THE TRAIN loses all sense of reality as they all jump up to offer their seats. I actually saw some of them drool a little bit. Pretty funny. I just stood there shaking my head at how easy it is to melt a man’s mind. All you need is the right mixture of body, water and white and you can have anything you’ve ever dreamed of! 🙂

So, my question is – do these people look in the mirror or use any sense of judgment when they leave the house in the morning? It is simply horrifying to me. Trust me, I am no fashionista. I try to mix my “Corporate Ass Licker” clothes with a bit of my own style, as not to feel like a complete Corporate Whore. Sometimes, I am a bit over the edge. I admit this, but that is just ME and I feel I pull it off quite nicely. Maybe I am wrong… Who knows? Who cares? haha.

However, this is NYC. You’d think you’d see this shit in some backwater town somewhere in Arkansas…. Know what I’m sayin? 🙂

Alone…

Originally posted on myspace.com 4/11/06

 

Since I was a little girl, I have always found comfort in being alone. It’s not that my family did not mean anything to me, it’s just that being alone meant feeling OK.

I grew up in an environment where violence and fighting was all that seemed to happen. My parents hated each other and stayed together way too long. My Father had issues from his childhood he never dealt with, my Mother, the same. Because of this, they took out their frustrations and anger on each other making my life a living hell in the process.

When I was a child, I used to hide in the bathroom under the sink to avoid being caught in the crossfire. I can remember exactly how I felt, nervous, afraid, shaky, uncontrollable crying. It’s amazing how to this very day, some 28 years later, that ANYONE can have that same effect on me.

I have never been particularly close with my Mother. There is really no one to blame for that, it’s just the way it happened. A huge part of me always felt that she resented the fact that I even existed because of the way I came about. Maybe I was/am a constant reminder of the bad choices she has made in her life and because she does know how to process that pain and deal with it and FORGIVE herself, she takes it out on the people around her.

Sometimes I feel that I am being unreasonable. I do try, very hard as a matter of fact, to have a relationship with her. It just never works out. We are too different, she is too judgmental of me, I too judgmental of her. How many times can you try to repair something that is just broken beyond repair? There is only so much gluing you can do, somehow it always goes back together more warped than it was before.

My only solace is that even at 2 years old I sort of wanted nothing to do with her. I was quite independent and headstrong. She would sew clothes for me and dress me up like a cupie doll. I would go directly in my room, rip them all off of my body and put on what I LIKED. She wanted so bad for me to be like her. She forced herself on me. She smothered me. I do not believe she did this on purpose, I believe that she wanted what she thought was best for me. Maybe she wanted me to live her life, just better than she did.

However, there is a wrong way to go about things and she has mastered that. Rather than letting me be myself, she put me down for being “different”. She called me horrible names, she talked about me to my family, she hurt me deeply, over and over and over. She NEVER accepted me for who I am, she may have said she did but there was always an underlying disdain that went along with her words and actions.

I have to be thankful for the fact that i am stronger than most and can realize that these things, words and actions are WRONG. Rather than ruining my own life trying to break away from her, I accepted her for who she is and tried to be myself. This behavior did nothing but distance me from my entire family. Then of course, there is the guilt.

Guilt will literally kill you if you let it. It crushes your soul and makes you feel as if you can not breathe, like your life will never be “just OK”. In reality, that’s all any of us really want, to be just OK. “Just OK” equals happiness. “Just OK” is attainable because no one in this world is ever 100% happy.

Another part of me has to believe that there are greater forces at play here. Forces such as fate and destiny. Some people would say that before we are born we choose our parents according to what we feel we most need to learn in this next “phase”, if you will, of the journey. Maybe I chose my Mother because I needed to deal with serious insecurity. Maybe I chose her because it would force me to be on my own for most of my life. Maybe I chose her because in choosing her, I have actually chosen myself.

Life has a funny way of smacking us around.

We have to feel complete sadness before we can truly be happy. I recognize this and I know I need to go through it. It is just so fucking hard to do.

It’s like standing on the edge of a beautiful cliff. You see the beauty of the world beneath you. You want to glide and fly with every inch of your soul, but your heart and your gut tells you that you will “die” or something horrific will happen to you if you go for it. Yet, you know, deep down that if you just take the leap – the benefits will far outweigh the consequences.

There is always a parachute on your back, all you need to do is pull the string…

Down with the sickness

I have spoken of my Father and his many issues in previous entries, however as of late, it has been on my mind again.  I try so hard to be understanding of things, of people, it’s just that sometimes it’s difficult to forgive.  Especially, when you have so much invested.

My Father has Bi-Polar disease.  For those of you who do not know what this is, it is basically a disorder to which there are 2 sides: Manic and Depressive.  The manic side is often considered the “better” of the two because rather than wallow in a pit of sadness all day, the person will accomplish a lot.  Others never know they suffer from such a mental disorder, they will just think that the person is outstanding in the ways that they can “out do” everyone else around them.  They will often start many projects at once and juggle them all quite effectively.  They are chock full of confidence and super friendly people, often thought of as “social butterflies” or “charasmatic”.

Obviously, to a person suffering from Bi-Polar, this side is a lot more attractive than the depressive side.  Sadly, “manic” is really all they know in life and consider this behavior to be “normal” when in reality, the longer they live like this, the worse the downfall to depressive will be. 

People who are extreme bi-polars will often do very self-destructive things when they hit rock bottom.  Most are drug-addicts, some turn to crime, some even commit suicide. 

My Father is an extreme Bi-Polar.  When he is “manic”, and many people who know him can attest to this, he is unstoppable and ADORED by everyone he knows.    Unfortunately, he falls into that category I spoke of eariler.  He thinks and actually believes that “mania” is NORMAL.

He will go months, sometimes years, without hitting the depressive side.  He will start 100 projects and experience lasting success with them.  Every time he hits depressive, he will relapse and smoke crack-cocaine.  Why Crack?  Well, that’s simple.  It’s an artificial high that will give him that “mania” he so craves.  He is so bi-polar, that he actually figured out a way to chemically alter his state of mind to get him back to mania from depressive. 

We recently had a falling out, a major one at that.  I decided to throw in the towel with him, because I do not feel that he understands or sees what the underlying issue is.  He needs medication.  Now, I am not one who promote the use of daily meds, however, in his extreme case it is undeniable.  Without the meds, he will never straighten his life out.

We spoke about this about 2 months ago.  He told me that he taking the meds, but hates them because they make him feel like a “zombie”.  I explained that he was not feeling like a zombie, but like a NORMAL human being should feel.  He has such a low self-worth that he simply can not function feeling normal.  He NEEDS mania.  It is so damn sad.

I know in my heart that he will never wake up to this fact.  I also know that he will not stay on his meds.  I know that he will never recover and while I HATE saying never, I have no choice.

His Mother, my Grandmother, called me yesterday.  I explained all of this to her, I explained that I simply can not be around him or speak to him anymore.  Unfortunately, my Grandmother has given her entire life to him.  My Grandfather is now very ill and rather than enjoying the time she has left with him, she is allowing herself to be stressed and full of upsetment about my Father.  Granted, he IS her son, however, I do not feel that she should be killing herself over his insanity.  He is 50 years old and needs to learn to fend for himself.  Not only is it unfair to my poor sick Grandfather, it is unfair to HER!

I let this all spill yesterday to her and she was not happy with me, I could tell.  I really could care less though as she is the shining example of what I COULD become if I allow myself to be led and hurt by my Father.

I will be 32 years old in 2 weeks from now.  At 32 years old I should not have to take care of the mess my Father has made of his life, once again.

If one day he wakes up, takes his meds like a good boy and accepts his faults and disease then MAYBE I will have a relationship with him.  Until then, I want nothing to do with it.