I learned over the years to protect your heart. You have to obviate people from it.Submitted by apollo88 at 2013-11-07 18:37:54 EST
Rating: -0.39 on 11 ratings (17 reviews) (Review this item) (V)
listen to this whilst reading:
Old McDonald Had A Farm
Super Simple Songs Super Simple Songs ·
Due to being talent, athletic, good looking… I was shown a harder fist at all times... why give me any upper hand at all? This is war… and they had their armies set… what was my fault? What was my crime? The audacity to want to be treated as everyone else... to be judged by the same rules… being a good person… I wasn’t supposed to be the “morel” compass of the area, or anywhere… that wasn’t for me... I wasn’t a chosen son… not the right complexion, or right ethics, or the right background… I was regulated to the other side of ethics… the dirt of the land… the end of the road so to speak… what does a good kid do when he is regulated to the slums? Taught the ethics of an angel, but left to the territory of the wolves? I don’t know… I can understand the “rebels”… they are rebelling about the fact that someone can decide… you win… you lose… you can’t be this… destroying people’s lives… with the effortless mark of a pen… insanity… but this is our order…
I guess being a good looking guy is something to be envious of. Since now I have people hating me at work or school simply because of these reasons. Random strangers jealous of me, thinking because I smile a ‘Kodak’ smile( I had a dentist lord forbid, and brush my teeth) I have had the easy life…. They don’t know about the tragedy of my father dying while I was 15… opening the door to the police officer asking, “Is this the residence of…” being the first one to hear, as the rage split my heart… I wept that night… I haven’t wept that way since… When my teammate died 8 years ago in an apparent car crash..,. This time I didn’t weep… just tears… As others have passed on the tears are gone and now it’s just a ‘tear’ or even an odd ‘warm cold’ feeling as I just say ‘that’s life’. That phrase showing my bitterness at the world as well as the lack of caring that I have undergone as the days go on.
I recall always being the kid to stand up… hated being the target, but didn’t mind it if I could “protect” someone or even a friend… I recall getting the brunt of the rage, being known as a trouble maker, and being put in the same realm as kid’s selling drugs, though at the time I never lit a spliff… I used to wonder “Why me?” I even tried to sabotage myself as I knew this path would be cumbersome, and be hard to live with... with few rewards, people disliking you, fucking you over, and at the end of it all they may “respect you”… enthuses on the ‘may’… because usually they hated you, and they used you as the ‘scapegoat’… never really minded it though.
My mother would always believe the worst about me, My entire life I felt people were always trying to make me out to be "the bad kid". Though I wasn't, after a while I let the label stick, if they think that "so what?" I knew who I was, I was loyal to my friends, I helped and looked out for my little brother and sister and cousins. Her "Golden boy" never did. Since my dad's death my mother has manipulated David into her insanity as well as Chris. I have done nothing, but I'm seen as a problem for "sticking up" for my little brother and sister that hate my mother with a passion(after my dad died, ,my mother wasted no time shipping them off to Catholic Boarding school in the UK for the next 7 years).
I recall my mother telling me that back when I was in my young teenage years. I was a "good kid", or when I was allowed to be. I was a perfect kid when I was on my part of town, I would behave earnestly, open up doors for elderly, mow my neighbors lawns and play in the woods at night...
Adventure intrigued me... shit it still does, till this day. I guess it was my reading of "Archive of Anthropos" when I was only 8 years old, or reading "Goose bumps" like a religion during my youth, being so scared the hair would stand on the back of my head... I was always intrigued... I craved to understand, relate, and even compare....
It's crazy how the very thing I detested my mother, and my aunts for is what I have been doing for a long time, since I was a young boy.
My mother is a braggart, a person that will buy gold ear rings and a brand new Lexus to show people "She's not struggling" while she is worried about her mortgage, or else to buy something "grand" or help someone else or pay for someone else before her bills are paid.
I commend that my mother has always paid for things in cash and doesn't want to "owe anyone anything" as she has so proudly claimed and as she has held as her pride since my father died. (my father's side hated my mother, and us, and even destroyed my father's funeral, and had a "wake" for him and didn't even invite us.... yeah, that's another post)
We'll, I'm still homeless...
My parents were immigrants from Europe... they raised my brothers, sister and I to be "American".. that's why it sucks, when people see my surname and look at me as a recent transplant... but I won't give my name up, or change it. I will just show how American I am, and have been.. (played all the sports, speech patterns, values, Catholic etc...) This isn't the case anymore, as many of the people here are due to behind the back "golden handshakes" form congress, and politicians for money, or expansion of business into third world countries for exploitation, If you think I'm wrong look at California and the influx of immigrants from China for education(I don't know how all of sudden they have enough money to send kids overseas for education, plus what tests are they taking that keeps them in rank with American students>) the funny part about this, you can see the corruption in one reason...
I see the pile, stacked up, a mountain of "Diet Coke" as it's called.. I look around... these are the perfect kids, dancing, having a ball, with polo's on deck, sparies on their feet, they seem perfect, the "good kids" as I was told... they weren't me... I wasn't even one of these kids... but I watch them partake, in every deviance... slowly my mind starts to think... Maybe it's okay? maybe I should... as I reach over for that dollar bill, and the mirror on the table.. I don't know if it's the drunk or the high... but my body starts to feel different.. vibrate... I feel my own senses come acute, as if "Spidey sense tingling"... I don't even know what it is... but I relent.. I pass again...but this hasn't stopped my downward spiral... trying to get "on" with these kids.. the kids of the powerful, the rich, the powerful... they keep offering me a spot at their table... I don't want there "life style" I just want the money, the connections, the respect... I'm a working man... so it seems...- Perkman 2013'