I'm Drunk! You've Been Warned! Hahahahaha!Submitted by DaBeast at 2010-10-09 02:19:34 EDT
Rating: 0.93 on 15 ratings (15 reviews) (Review this item) (V)
Darth Famine and I are drinking tonight. I can't wait to see what he posts. Hahahaha!
And there's Korgoth saying, "Hairy balls of the gods!" and I'm laughing. Hahahah!
I can't stop thinking of certain things. They haunt me. Why is that? I am no longer bothered by all of the beatings/ass whuppings I got when I was a tadpole. They no longer effect me, really, but they do serve as story fodder and I use them as such.
Damn, I can't type for shit tonight. I keep having to go back and re-write. I hate that. Damnit.
My niece looks to me for all of the wrong reasons. I'm not her mother or her grandparents, I'm of the uncle persuasion, but she looks to me, and she fashions her responses based upon my own and... that's not a good thing. She isn't me. She's her. While I can indicate the path, I can not lead her down it. This makes me feel bad; almost as if I am misleading her. I point this out to her but she ignores it.
No one is so blind as are the young.
I tell her my stories, but she only hears them as historical accounts, and not as lessons to be learned. That's wrong and I continue to tell her so but she refuses to see. My experiences... I see her traveling down the same road... why won't she listen to me? Because she can't, that's why. Because she's young, and invincible, and immortal and... young.
*sigh* I recall being young, once, long, long ago.
Once, I trusted everyone. Vaguely, I recall it, when I thought they were supposed to love me, to care for me, to want me.
I was wrong.
I laughed at my mother earlier this week and threatened her with an oral copy of the history of the family, written as I had known it. I was told "well, don't write anything that embarrasses us" but... daYUM!... how to separate the embarrassment from the truth?
It can't be done.
How do I leave out the story of Uncle Grady and the Cow? How do I leave out the time that Uncle Ted herded his entire immediate family into a barn and set it on fire in order to evade the allegation of child molestation? How do I leave out the ugly parts?
I can't. They're part of why I am the way that I am. They're part of how I became the me that now exists.
Those things I saw, those things I experienced... they made me who and what I am. I can't avoid them anymore than I could gloss them over. Whether they occurred or not, I was told that they had, and those stories had an impact upon my development.
I can't ignore them.
I can't ignore myself.
From this slime, I arose. From this rancid puddle of skewed DNA, I was brought into existence. The stories that I heard, as well as those events that I lived through, shaped me, molded me, made me.
I am an amalgamation of DNA and stories. That's all that I am.
They made me what I am.
So... if I choose to write them down... if I choose to record them for posterity... if I share them...
Isn't the truth worth the pain? Or isn't it?
I know this story would cause pain. It caused me pain so I know that that pain can be transferred.
So... which makes me human? Keeping it to myself... or sharing it?
Because... I don't really know.
I don't want to ruin anyone else's life. Mine's been ruined enough...