The Father, The Son, The Broken Chair

The Father, The Son, The Broken Chair

So listen, dad, to what I say
Allow me to be perfectly clear
Lean in close and kiss my lips
And I will whisper in your ear
Can you hear the pain behind my teeth
Can you feel the heat between my legs
Can you touch the place you bruised and beat
Can you kiss the spot you never left
Can you heal the bruise you left inside
On a bed with the curtains closed real tight
In a room entirely made of white
In a memory that still beats in this light

Where are your convenient excuses
Where are your threats when you need them
Let me rape you the way you raped me
Ask me later if you’re forgiven
Kill this monster you left inside me
Growing from your seed within
The man who made me found a haven
But I’ve been in the wild since then
It’s time, at last, to get revenge
It’s time we made this even
Do you hear the church bells chiming, dad?
I’m outside and I’m listening
He comes into your room at night
He stays and never goes away
And still he lies inside your mind
If you listen you can hear him say

Alone, alone, abandoned boys
Embrace the man you made me
And listen for my little voice
“It tastes like raisins, daddy.”
So come, come in, let’s talk it through
The chair you left is waiting
Let’s walk back to that living room
Let’s try again and maybe
The lights will break, the boy you made
Has come now to collect you
Let’s finish this where it began
There’s no one to protect you

I’m stronger now, and you’ve gone old
But I have lived and you have not
And you’ve been sitting in that chair
And I have loved and you’ve been lost
And I will light a candle here
And set this chair on fire
And I will breathe you in the air
And let you float on higher
I’ll walk down to the river side
I’ll skip the glass along the way
I’ll sit there in the water, dad
And live to love another day
And as your ashes float above me
I will cry my tears for you
I cannot be the man you made me
I have better things to do

It hurts too much to keep on hating
It’s only killing me too soon
I’d rather be the son you lost
Than the nightmare you left in that room
And I don’t need your reasons, dad
I don’t care if you have found them
I have to live despite your efforts
I have to find a way around them

The father, the son, the broken chair
The night the devil found me
It’s more than I can ever bare
But still I cross the boundary
You watched a baby sound asleep
And said you wanted to hurt him
The way your father held your feet
The way your father burned them

It’s not my job to heal the burns
It’s not my place to touch your bruises
A son is not a bandage
And a father should not make excuses
I don’t want a kiss goodbye
I don’t want to kiss your bruises
The son you murdered did not die
And he can love the way he chooses

 

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God Is An Abusive Boyfriend

god-by-perin-del-vaga

(After finishing the God Delusion by Richard Dawkins for the third time in the span of about a year, and having also read Hitchens’ God is Not Great a few times as well, I found that my many opinions about Christianity finally started to take some coherent form. I could write an entire book [and I hope to at some point] about my feelings on Christianity, as well as religion in general. In an effort to work toward that, I’ve started taking notes. The following is more less copied and pasted from my notepad so it isn’t entirely fleshed out or well-organized, but it is a good place to start. I wanted to point out that these are notes for myself so that it’s clear that this isn’t the final product, just the early stages of something I’m working on.)

Christianity is a system of cyclical emotional abuse that inculcates and indoctrinates new members (almost always as emotionally vulnerable and mentally impressionable children) to believe that they fundamentally disordered in such a way that they are evil and worthy of eternal torment from the moment they are born. Not only this, but they are taught to believe that they CANNOT be anything other than evil and worthy of the most horrific kind of torture and punishment, because the only way to be truly good, moral, and decent, is to allow Christ to take on your own sin (whether you’ve committed any sin or not), and Christianity takes care to institute such rigorous regulations that most normal, healthy, biologically necessary actions are considered sinful, and thought crime is preached by the central deity, so that absolutely any moment of anything other than complete lobotomized silence is viewed as sinful and in need of correction or forgiveness. To be naked is a sin, to experience physical arousal is a sin, to desire to be close and to express love is a sin, to even think about exercising a completely healthy biological function like masturbation is a sin, even unavoidable biological functions like menstruation are sinful and “unclean,” in short: everything that any normal human being might do is considered a sin, so that no matter how hard you try, you cannot escape God’s righteous indignation.

This tactic is sometimes employed by the military, during basic training, in which a drill Sargeant will emotionally abuse his pupils by setting such absurd regulations on behavior that it becomes literally impossible for the rules to be followed, and so the entire unit is punished when one pupil slips up. Drill Sargeant will also give conflicting orders and punish a cadet no matter their actions, regardless of if they obeyed or not, simply to torture them. The reason for this barbaric method of training is to purposely bring the unit together in their utter contempt of the drill Sargeant, and yet also to fear and obey him, regardless of his orders, because it is the only way to avoid punishment, even if avoiding it is futile. Soldiers are placed under such extreme mental and emotional stress in an attempt to completely break their spirit, and then rebuild their demolished psyche into that of a ruthless killing machine whose only goal and joy comes from following orders and serving the military.

This kind of barbaric treatment is contemptible, but when it’s done in the military, people recognize it for what it is. Even those who justify this cruelty say that it’s done for a purpose. No one pretends that this medieval method of training is done out of love and compassion. But when God does the same things, and worse, people will make any excuse to justify his contemptible behavior, and most sickeningly of all: that God abuses and tortures his creations because he LOVES us. God is the ultimate abusive boyfriend. Countless times throughout the Bible he presses into service those same excuses we know abusers use: “You brought this on yourself,” “Look what you made me do,” “I’m only doing this because I love you.” If any man were on trial for doing a fraction of the things god does to his children, he would most certainly be sentenced to prison or worse. Yet his actions are excused and justified by his victims, who trip over themselves to believe that 2+2=5 if God says it does.

God

297

The suffering are the scapegoat
The guns all fire free
The illness roots are strong
And you refuse to help me
You blame me for your violence
You rob me for my silence
You never guessed it happened
To the children you ignored
Everyone is asking questions
But no one stops to listen
When the bombers and the shooters Needed ears and not a sword

In Which Some Things Are Talked About

Warning! This blog entry is a bit of a downer. However it was unbelievably stimulating to my mood, so it was quite necessary. So, if you'd like to learn a little more about my personal issues, read on. If you'd like chipper thoughts on upcoming blog entries, refer to the last few paragaphs.

Nothing new here.

Nope, nothing.

Okay, well maybe there is one, eency weency thing.

I seem to have recovered, but I think mentally I just completely fell apart over the last couple of weeks. The good news is, I think I’m better now. Here’s basically what happened, along with the backstory so you’ll understand it:

The day was Monday. I work for my mother, who has a house-cleaning business. So we headed to our usual Monday house. The night before, I hadn’t gotten much sleep, and what was about to happen has always been worse when I don’t get enough sleep. We got to the house and we couldn’t get in; the key wasn’t working. So she let the owner know about our situation, and while we were waiting for an answer, we were outside in the afternoon heat.

I started to panic. No real reason, other than I knew, “This would be a bad time to panic.” That’s usually how it happens. You see, I have panic attacks. I suppose a panic attack can vary in severity, and I don’t want to say I have anything that I don’t, but I at very least have episodes that feel a hell of a lot like I think a panic attack would feel. There are multiple things that trigger it: lack of food, lack of sleep, heat, any reason that I would be dizzy or lightheaded, etc. etc. The number one thing that causes it, however, is the belief that any of those things can induce it. While it’s true that they do, what causes me to panic is when I think to myself, “I haven’t slept enough, I’m going to panic. I haven’t eaten enough, I’m going to panic. It’s hot outside, I’m lightheaded, I’m going to panic.” The symptoms are as follows: I become dizzy and lightheaded, my vision gets a little blurry (I already need glasses, so the fact that my vision is blurry during it’s best moments doesn’t help), there’s an immense heaviness and heat in my chest, along with a general feeling of “Oh shit get me out of here! I’m in a confined space and I want to go home, NOW!” There’s also a burning feeling in my head like the one in my chest, and all of this just grows larger and larger.

The way I overcome this is with breathing. It’s what I’ve been taught to do. The recommendations vary, but in general I’m told to take a deep breath, hold it in, and slowly exhale, and repeat this as many times as I need to until I feel calm. Usually what happens is that the worst of the feelings will pass, but the fear that the panic attack will come again often causes it to slowly resurface in weaker forms throughout the day until I get back to my comfort zone, which is usually home.

Apart from these things, there are also physical side-effects that I don’t think are normal. When I begin to panic, before the panic attack even begins, the entire left side of my body, from the tip of the left side of my head to the very bottom of my left foot begins to feel uneasy, and eventually numb to some degree. Sometimes there is a feeling in my left arm like a tight pinching, and this feeling sometimes occurs around my heart too.

Even now I need to stop and calm down because talking about this is kind of hard, and makes me feel some of the symptoms. But this problem has been following me for years now, everywhere I go and especially in public. So, my biggest problem is stress/anxiety/panic. Along with that are various physical problems, some of which make the anxiety worse and some of which could be completely unrelated.

To begin with, throughout my life I’ve had a random shooting pain in the veins on my wrist. I can’t remember if it’s my left or right wrist, but there it is. I don’t know what it means, and it usually only lasts a little while, seconds to minutes. I don’t know what it means but it’s always been there.

Also, I’m just generally out of shape. I was a skinny kid, and at about 10 I started overeating, mostly out of sheer bordom. I got pretty fat and since then I’ve had a thin build but some definite extra weight. When I hit my growth spurt and started getting taller, the weight distributed and I was close to bein thin for a while, but eventually I just got fat again. Now it comes with stretch marks. Yep, I’m 20, and I have stretch marks. I’m not even morbidly obsese, I think I’m actually only between 10 and 20 pounds overweight, but I have stretch marks, on my arms, my sides, and my butt (you really wanted to know that, didn’t you?). It makes me feel ugly and unnatractive. Sometimes I feel the only real attractiveness I have is in my face, which hasn’t been clear of redness or acne since I was 12.

Let’s continue with the strange health problems, shall we? I don’t know how to eat healthy. I honeslty wish I knew people who had all the information I want. I’d have such a healthier life if only I knew how to do it. I hate soda, and I love water. Yet I drink soda constantly. I hate hamburgers, hot dogs, and steak, yet I eat them. It’s not because I specifically want to, it’s because I don’t know where to begin looking for information on what else to eat. My mom claims to want to eat healthy, but she thinks that just means buying some fruits and lettuce along with the ice cream and processed meat.

Everything about modern food is really so disgusting and unhealthy when you look at it in the broad scope of history. Our food comes in CANS, for crying out loud. Cans of meat, “soup,” vegetables, and anything else you can think of that has been so altered that it scarcely resembles it’s original form. Basically, on the whole, Americans eat lumps of chemicals and preservatives that have been prepared for them. Then you have fast food. It’s not an exaggeration when people say that McDonalds is so unhealthy it’s deadly. It’s barely anything close to resembling a meat patty on bread. All fast food is like that. It’s sickening stuff, and it’s also incredibly bad for you in every way. You’re probably better off taking a vitamin and eating some grass than you are eating fast food.

But back to my point. When I eat things like salt and peppered (I admit I have a problem with salt and pepper, it just makes everything taste better) Hot Pockets, fast food, or anything of the like, my chest hurts. And it’s always the area of my chest where my heart is. I have a lot of pain around the area where my heart is. The problem is, even mentioning it now gets me stressed and makes my heart hurt. It’s a pretty vicious cycle.

Some other problems are of the digestive nature. I have acid reflux, and I stopped taking medicine both because I’m forgetful about medicine and because my refills ran out, as did my Medicade when I turned 18. If I drink soda (especially “green” or “white” sodas, like Mountain Dew, Mello Yello, Sierra Mist, Sprite) it’s much worse than if I drink “dark” sodas, but it happens nontheless. Interestingly enough, you’d think the answer would be to drink water, but water, especially when I haven’t eaten anything, makes it happen worse than anything else! So, if I want to avoid acid reflux, I know I shouldn’t drink soda or water. What does that leave?

Milk? Well, I’m also, to some degree, lactose intolerant. This appeared when I was about 15. I ate some high fiber cereal, not knowing what fiber does, and you know what happened afterward. Now, you think “Oh, it was just the cereal itself that did it to you, not the milk,” but this is probably the earliest memory I have of any and all cereals doing this to me. Especially if I eat a lot of it. If you’re still lost, I’ll make it clear: milk gives me diharrea. Along with other issues in that region, so let’s just say you don’t want to be hanging out with me on the couch if I’ve drank milk.

So if I drink milk, I get stomach problems, and if I drink soda or water, I have acid reflux. If I eat too much I have chest pains, and if I eat too little I’m weak and thus panic attacks are induced much easier. When a panic attack is happening, I’m lightheaded, so taking a lot of deep breaths to slow my breathing just makes me more lightheaded, while on the other hand if I don’t take deep breaths the panic gets worse. In all these situations, I’m pretty much screwed if I do and screwed if I don’t. The digestive ones I can handle, because none of them involve me throwing up, and throwing up is really the only digestive thing I just can’t stand. Diharrea doesn’t bother me because it gives me plenty of time to think/read/play GameBoy, any of the other fun things you can do in the bathroom.

Oh, I forgot this one, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I honestly don’t want to get into what this one does, because it’s just altogether incredibly weird, but suffice it to say the main symptom of this one is that I constantly mumble things under my breath. It’s not as bad as it was when I was a kid, where I had to do things in even or odd incraments, or when I had to compulsively blink, crack my jaw, or any of the other behaviors. Now the obsessive behaviors are mostly of the mental kind, and I have for years included certain key words at the end of my sentences under my breath, and those key words have changed. If you’re still confused, I don’t blame you, but for example, after every sentence I used to mumble “One might have said.” That became, “or one might have said,” for some grammatically inexplicable reason. Now it’s usually, “or stop it hush Jesse.” Yeah, they usually begin with “or,” I don’t know why.

 Also, another weird mental thing I think is caused by the OCD is that because I have a fear of having no control over my life, I fear death immensely, and especially the death of those close to me, so when I’m feeling scared or vulnerable, it’s almost as if mentally I feel that that “death energy” is radiating from me, and if I touch the person I care about, I could cause them to die. It’s very weird, I know, but there it is. I’m a pretty messed up guy.

 So, those are my issues. But that’s only one element. We’ve covered mental and physical, but we still have emotional. Due to some weird stuff that happened to me when I was a child, I’ve got quite a few emotional issues. I have problems with control in my own life, and as such I’ve sought solace in many a fantasy world, primarily the reason why I was interested in Final Fantasy as a child and a teenager. I live in the real world now, and losing myself in a fantasy world isn’t as tempting as it used to be, I feel I’m mature enough to appreciate the borders of fantasy and reality now. Regardless, I tend to create comfort zones to stay in: the computer, listening to music and hunting through iTunes, playing video games and listening to TV audio in the PIP window. I always need a ritual to keep myself calm.

Oh that’s right, I was going to tell you about the past couple of weeks.

So, it began when I started panicking that Monday. Throughout the day, I had little panic episodes, but I assume I was fine when I got home. Every time I went out during that week, I got scared of having another panic-filled day, and because I was scared of panicking, I of course panicked. It got so bad that on Thursday I refused to go with my mother to help her, and as a result I was fired (along with being “grounded” from the phone and the internet like a juvenile). Oddly enough, that day we went to the bookstore (I managed to do pretty well there, I ran into some people and actually talked to them a bit about what was going on with me and my anxiety), and the manager basically offered me a job, and told me to put in an application and call him. Of course this would be during the week when I started regressing so far that going out in public was horrifying for me.

To make a lengthy story somewhat less lengthy, during a visit to the mall on that same day a friend jokingly said to me over the phone that I had agoraphobia. I looked it up and apparently I actually have all the symptoms of agoraphobia exactly. Now, I’m not saying I have it or diagnosing myself with it, but this entry is to get all this off of my chest, so I’m mentioning it. So I convinced myself I was scared to go out in public, and guess what, I’ve been scared to go out in public. I really think part of it is just that I psyched myself out, but it has been really scary. July 4th was horrible, not only because of the fireworks but because I rode along for a 15 minute trip to check on someone’s house who’s out of town, and the whole time I was freaking out and wanting to get back home.

At this moment, I feel alright, especially getting all of this off of my chest. I’m sorry to dump so much drama on you but hey, it’s my blog, right? I’ve never kept a journal for nearly as long as this before. I could continue about how my father called me this morning and made several possible references to a scathing Facebook message I sent him about how he fucked me up as a child, but I just don’t have the energy right now to go into all of that and I’m finally feeling positive. I think we’ve had a sufficient amount of drama, I feel like I’ve got more in me to dump out, but hey, there’s always next time, right?

I think it might be time for another fun blog. Maybe about Final Fantasy VII! I ordered a PS1 memory card a couple weeks ago and I’ve been playing nonstop since it arrived, it’s really a fun game! I might do a “Jesse’s thoughts, tips, and precautions on Final Fantasy VII” type thing. I’ve been wanting to do reviews for a while now, I just never really finish anything. I want to do a review on Boys For Pele, when I feel I’ve sufficiently sucked what juice out of it I need for a review. Right now I’m moslty in video game mode though.

So! I think it might be time to start doing reviews. After slowly making my way through it for almost a year, I finished a book called The Innocent Mage. It was really stupid. The plot didn’t even thicken until about 100 pages before the ending, and the book is 500 pages long. But I’ll have to tell you about it some other time. The one thing I did like about it is that it ended on a cliffhanger. I like cliffhangers; I like staying hooked. That’s what makes True Blood a good show. Anyway, it might be time for a review on that one soon.

Until next time.  And remember: there ain’t no gettin’ off o’ this train we’re on! This train we’re on don’t make no stops!

Barret reference anyone?

Wow, what a dramatic change in mood I’ve had since getting all that weight off my chest. This blog, mentally healthy? I think so.