Can someone explain to me why I have to be the one people take their **** out on?
Like I’m trying to be a good person and be there for the people I care about because **** i don’t want anyone to feel how I do when no one checks on me or really cares for that matter.
But it’s like when I try to, and honestly it’s scary as **** because everyone reacts different,
And It Never Fails!
They snap at me and then somehow I’m just an ******* who doesn’t actually care about them and I’m just “acting”.
Seriously?
Please by all that is good and sacred please can everyone in my life for once just take all their **** out on someone else and notice that I actually am here and I actually am trying to be there for them?
No?
Well ****.

I had a way out, m
Of this entire life.
Start over in the big city,
New York.
Bought the plane ticket and everything.
Two nights before I was supposed to leave,
My friend wanted to party, send me off with a bang so to speak.
This was the night that I should’ve just stayed home, listened to my gut.
My ex and I broken up again, and once again my world was complete ****.
My friend picked me up and we headed to the house that ironically was two streets down from where I use to live with another girl who wanted to be in a relationship with me but under the circumstances we couldnt.
And it was 4 blocks away from my ex’s mothers house.
I knew the area well, I walked it numerous times.
The party was chill, everyone had their drinks. I wanted to be safe so I brought my own to start off.
The music was blasting, we all had a good time.
That was until the drugs came out.
This was the time I relapsed hard.
I wanted to feel numb, I wanted to forget everything for as long as I could.
I wanted to forget her, forget how I felt about her.
So I snorted the lines, took the shots and I buried myself in as much of the **** as I could.
Turns out one of our other former friends liked me, we kissed.
Had a great time.
That was until I had to run.
I don’t know how the fight started between the other people in the other room, I just know that the second I heard the sound of a gunshot, my first instinct was get the **** out.
Luckily my friends and I were all in the kitchen just about to take our shots, I took two of them and pushed them out of the kitchen and through the living room.
It happened fast, that gun smacking the side of my head.
I remember seeing the instant flash of red and white.
I couldn’t see straight but honestly I think those last two shots helped.
Four guys were punching each other and the fight moved into the living room we were in.
Apparently I must’ve looked like one of the guys they were fighting because the guy that hit me with gun came at me again.
“Oh ****”
The punches wouldn’t stop.
Eventually I  tackled him as hard as I could just in time to get us out and put  my friends in the car and told the only sober one to get them home and since there wasn’t any room in that ******* small car I stayed behind.
Another gunshot and a scream as they drove away,
So I ran as fast as I could, stumbling every now and then of course.
I tried going to the old little house my friend Marissa lived in that we got, when I got to the door I remembered she didn’t live there anymore.
So I kept running,
Threw up a couple times and kept running.
I ended up at the alleyway on the edge of my ex girlfriends mothers house.
I stopped when I got to the sidewalk by the edge of the driveway.
That’s when it hurt,
I knew that even if I showed up beaten up bloodied,
She wouldn’t help.
Or maybe she would I don’t know.
I mean why should she?
I was the pathetic ******* ex,
I don’t deserve help.
I could’ve just tried, knocked on the door at least.
Instead
So I ran so more.

7:13 am,
My mind never seems to stop wandering, honestly I wish there was just a switch.
Instead I’m doing my laundry with her on the FaceTime,
I keep worrying about what could happen.
What has happened.
Like what if our time together again is really is just going to be cut short again.
Honestly I’m worried about her,
I don’t want to see her hurting again.
I don’t even think she believes me when I do tell her I want to be her friend,
It’s like with everyone in my life it takes extraordinary measures to just be heard.
Which I don’t want to do anymore, it’s exhausting.
I use to always try to get my point across, put my foot down kind of.
Now?
I just want to be happy, and I’m learning new things like being comfortable in telling someone no I don’t want to do that.
I use to be a big people pleaser because I was taught that the idea of you is important, how you look, how you present yourself has to be perfect.
Now I just like doing the things that make me happy and I’m okay with doing them alone now.
It was scary at first because I use to hold onto the idea that I needed to find a partner in life to make it so to speak,
When really all i needed was to be able to be happy with myself.
So far so good.
Sometimes it gets dark,
I second guess myself.
I don’t know maybe it’s all part of the process.
Even writing this is all over the place,
Honestly I’m worried she’s gonna have a nightmare and that I’m not gonna be able to calm her down.
Or that maybe I still can…
Either way all I know for sure?
I can’t figure out what I’m feeling exactly, only that I want to be here for her no matter what.
Like I promised

Books, movies tv shows.
I’ve learned many things from them,
One lesson from a show that I remember now,
That in the face of any trial or tribulation,
I can overcome it.
To stick to what’s right, the truth.

Now with the most recent events,
Got jumped about 3 times because of things that weren’t even my problem to begin with but I have the family name so yeah, my left eye hemorrhaged, if I ever get hit or fall on it I will go blind for good.
Broken and cracked ribs, left cheekbone was broken still swells every now and then.
Oh
I almost died. AGAIN.
This time was when I was drinking with my niece who’s actually a year older than me.
We went for a cruise that was indeed a drunken cruise.
She drank way more than I thought she did and I was drunk too.
We were driving on the road to my grandpas church,
She tried to turn around so we could go back up the road cuz that road ended by the river.
Instead we high centered and slid into the ditch.
We were balanced on a old buried tree trunk.
She tried to push the accelerator all the down to rev us out, that caught the dry grass on fire. And then the left driver side tired caught fire.
So I had to climb out the back left window of the van, and pull her out.
Now that should’ve been it, but I thought I could get the van out of the ditch.
So I ran back into the now burning van,
Grabbed our phones and tried to grab the insurance papers.
Burned my hands in the process but I got out,
And just in time because it did explode not a big one but it exploded.
I could’ve died and somehow I just got out in time even though I went back in.
I couldn’t breathe, it hurt to breathe.
I couldn’t stop shaking and repeating what happened in detail to the cops the emts the doctors and the nurses.
The shaking scared me because of the fact that I couldn’t just stop.
My hands were tingling and they felt like someone used sandpaper on them or something.
The strangest thing was that I kept telling everyone to call Della, the girl that left, my ex. I just wanted to talk to her.
I remember being in the van before I had to Climb out the back, that I kept seeing mountains in my mind.
I saw mountains, the black hills, the yall prairie grass, I saw the desert sands of New Mexico. I saw every place I loved and all I kept thinking was “please whoever’s  listening let me get out of this alive because I have to see her again. I promised her I wouldn’t die or **** myself. I promised her let me get out of this alive please, she’s gotta know I’m okay I have to be okay, I have to stay alive, I gotta move I gotta get us out. I gotta live, I can’t leave her like this even though she ain’t around I can’t leave her in the world by herself I gotta get out, I gotta move.”
I don’t understand I almost died three times in my lifetime and I am here.
I don’t get it. Just hope it’s for a good reason.
I hope it’s worth it, & I will do my best to make it the most of it.

18,
Dropout.
Alcoholic.
Addict.
I moved into a ratty old apartment with my cousin a friend and at the time girlfriend.
We drank religiously, had every drug to get us high.
And somehow all managed to keep our jobs, not just keep them but we excelled at them.
My favorite was coke and speed. I liked being able to just sit there and my head blank.
I have ADHD so **** works differently with me, my friends would be hyped up or paranoid.
I felt safe, ****** was home though.
I loved being able to shut my brain down,
Of course I overdosed twice,
Once in high school my best friend found me took care of me like the hospital and stuff.
I was so ****** up then too, I didn’t even notice he was hurting inside too.
He ended his life with a bullet to head, his brother and I found him at chokecherry canyon.
The second time I overdosed I was 19, we were at the apartment.
We had the whole week from work because we all wanted to just have fun. I’m talking going to the lake and everything, we did it all. That last night of our little staycation I didn’t even realize how much **** I was taking because of how drunk I was.
The last thing I remember was hearing the muffled music hearing my cousin and friends laughing and boom.
I woke up in the hospital scared shitless.
The doctors told me they barely got me back, my heart stopped twice.
They brought me back.
Honestly I hated them still do.
I didn’t see anything of heaven or hell just nothing.
It was like I just went to sleep and that was it.
I, of course, signed myself out of the hospital against the doctors orders.
Came back home and they were so scared that I almost died.
I thanked them and proceeded to drink the bottle of jack daniels I bought and left in the freezer.
Life went on, I hated every second of it.
Yet I still played the part of a happy person, kept up at my jobs became a manager somehow at the skate shop.
Then I started just giving up again,
Instead of completely falling into the **** again I went to rehab.
I got therapy, I eventually didn’t drink.
Life was looking a little better
That’s when I got the job at big r and eventually met someone who would change everything.
Even to this day I wish I met her like 5 years later or something because she didn’t deserve the ******* recovering addict/alcoholic who eventually started drinking again.
She didn’t deserve that I didn’t deserve her.
And what ***** is that I absolutely freaked out.
It was like meeting her and knowing that I could actually be a better person was ******* scary.
And overwhelming because I wasn’t ready, I was barely getting sober.
Barley getting on my own two feet,
No where near ready to fully take that next step in healing from the trauma I lived through and grew in.
So I learned a thing,
I played the victim & ruined a really good relationship.
Like demolished it,
I hurt her because I was hurt.
I broke her because I was broken.
It was unfair to her, watching someone she loved become this complete monster.
In my head when I finally snapped, all that numbness was gone.
And every single hurt pain trauma, all of it came out.
And she left which was understandable because no one should have to be the victim of someone who exploded in anger and broke the walls of his home,
I wanted to tear that house down because of what I went through there.
The worse part of it is, my whole meltdown? It was never against her none of it was.
That was the acting out of a child who lost their childhood.
That was all the unresolved pain that I went through and literally blamed her for making me angry when really I was angry at myself and she was never the problem.
She really did love me and tried to be there, I did a “fantastic” job at pushing her away. Far away. She’s with someone else now, and I have to live everyday with that guilt.
Because she really really did love me, and I was too broken I was too far gone to even see it. I did not at the time realize that I needed to work on myself I needed to heal from my past, and there was no way that I could’ve actually given her the love she deserved because I couldn’t even love myself. I failed at being the man she needed, I failed at showing her that she was my world, because I was so stuck in that self hate that even though I knew it in my soul that I loved this girl so much that I would’ve done anything. The problem was I wasn’t actually healing myself, I tried to just cover up all that Hate and anger at myself and put on a mask. That was happy or that nothing was wrong.
Eventually that mask broke, and she’s gone.
I was 21…
Now I am 23,
What ***** is that I still love that girl, and to this day I wish I would’ve just met her 5 years after and not then… right person wrong time? I don’t know.
She loves someone else now and soon I think I’ll just be a memory, shoot not even a good one. I remember all the good and bad memories we had, and like I said I know I will forever live with the shame and guilt of hurting the woman I loved because of my own incapability of loving myself and healing.
I want to say I’m getting better, however I don’t really know if I’ll ever be actually better.
Everything still hurts.
And now I’m still a cocky **** and I’m also trying to be a better person,
The problem is the lesson I learned recently?
It all will end eventually, what matters is that each day is a chance to be better than who you were yesterday. That it’s okay to hurt, to cry. However I still get that numb feeling. I like protecting myself, but I can’t stay stuck in just survival mode anymore..
I am worth it, I’m worth something. I can be a better person than I was yesterday.
All that hurt I went through? They’re lessons, I know better now. And that it will all be okay.
One day at a time.

My grandmother died when I was 13, she was the only grandparent I knew the last one…
I remember at her funeral everyone was crying,
I hated myself for not being able to cry.
By then I was numb, I was a victim of child ****** abuse and I didn’t even know it but I felt every bit of that nothing if that makes sense.
I remember how my entire family looked at me like I was crazy for not crying, I was immediately judged as the official crazy one.
I remember while the churchy part of the service started I went outside to smoke a cigarette from the pack I stole from my uncle.
Any kid would’ve been terrified to be found with an actual lit cigarette at that age,
As I stated before I was numb I really didn’t care.
The following years until now, I am still numb.
Middle school was interesting,
I ended up enjoying ditching but I’d always ask my teacher for my homework anyway.
Even though I spent most of my time in the hills on the walking trails behind my school I still passed 8th grade with straight As and a 4.0 GPA.
I got bullied like any kid did, actually shoved in lockers, beat up in the bathroom by Mrs Gallegos’ history class.
Met some friends of course, by then I was good at playing happy.
High school was full of adventures,
I joined the JROTC & they recommended that I go to West Point,
I was athletic, captain of the raider team(that’s the JROTC physical fitness team) captain of the drill team and the color guard. I excelled there.
I was battalion commander by my sophomore year, in charge of the entire class for our Army Inspection where they came to see if we were in tip top shape,
That year we had the largest battalion in Bobcat history, and I was in charge.
My sophomore year ended and summer began,
That was the summer my mother wanted me to have a boyfriend so of course I wanted to gain her love & favor I dated one guy.
He ended up ****** me in the back of his best friends bronco at the county fair.
I turned 15 that cool summer…
15 & pregnant, I was terrified.
I never told anyone, I had to go back to school and I wanted to continue to be involved in JROTC.
So what did I do?
I punched myself in the stomach repeatedly , that wasn’t working so I ended picking a fight. (Yes I know what you’re thinking Why Didn’t You Just Get Help! At the time, I learned that I don’t get help because there’s nothing wrong with me at all or so my mother always told me. I had to figure it out on my own because of what people would think of me, yes definitely don’t ever do this because it was ******* stupid of me but I didn’t know any better)
I picked a fight and let myself get pulverized,
It worked.
I didn’t realize that the hell I would go through mentally physically emotionally after that miscarriage…
After that I was truly never the same.
Looking back now, that’s when it all really went downhill.
I shut down, everything didn’t matter.
But I had to play the part of being a happy kid so once again the mask.
Junior year I didn’t care for school so I never went, didn’t even care about JROTC anymore.
A girl came into my life, we dated.
We became the most popular couple in school, everyone knew who we were.
We ran smokers corner, bought a car and ditched with the money we made from selling cigarettes.
My mother found out I was dating a girl and dragged me out of the car slamming my head on the ground which led me to the hospital to get stitches for the **** on my head.
I moved in with my girlfriend at the time,
That was when the suicidal thoughts really started kicking in.
That was when I started pills, drinking & partying.
We broke up 2 weeks after I dropped out of high school because i found out she started cheating on me when I left.
I moved back with my parents and the physical violence never stopped because I was gay.
The suicide attempts, trips to the emergency room, rehab more suicide attempts and the glorious psych ward.
This was when I learned how to lie to get out of things.
I made even the therapists cops everyone believe the words I said.
Eventually I got away with a lot.
I just turned 17 when my dad slammed my head into the concrete floor of my house, my mother kicking me and my dad pinning me on the ground,
All because I came out of my room to get a water and apparently I rolled my eyes.
I remember tasting blood and looking out of my left eye was like looking out of a red window, I used all the strength I had left to get out of that pin.
I remember barricading my room with the dresser I had and calling the police.
My mother beat me to calling the police, she told them I was assaulting them,
But once Officer Largo arrived on the scene and saw no bruising or any sign of assault on them he asked me through the door, that was literally keeping me alive, come in my room if he could come in.
That’s when he took me into the bathroom,
I looked in the mirror and saw the reason why that look of horror was on his face.
My left eye was red, busted blood vessel, the blood running down from the left side of my head, busted lip that wouldn’t stop bleeding, broken nose. Bruised all over my arms.
He called for backup requesting a female cop,
Officer Benally saw the bruises on my back and and the scratches and bruises on my neck. The EMTS said I had 6 broken ribs, 3 of them never healed properly to this day.
I remember Officer Largo handcuffing my dad and my mom.
They were screaming in terror, truly acting like they didn’t do anything wrong.
I remember telling the cops over and over to let them go that I deserved this. It was my fault.
That was when I learned that I don’t have a say in my life.
I spent that week in the ICU.
No family came, my parents were in jail.
I didn’t have anyone, I sat in that cold room watching Reba on the tv eating my jello.
I snuck out of the hospital and ran,
It hurt like hell but I ran.
I hitchhiked home that was an hour drive away,
Broke into my own house found the keys to my car put clean clothes on.
Cleaned and waited.
They got home and acting like nothing happened only that they hated me.
I went to work like any other high school age kid
I was a little ****,
High or drunk all the time.
The rest is a blur until I got semi sober after getting my first DUI at the golden age of 17,
My mother continued hitting me throughout all this and I kept telling myself I deserved this.
I turned 18 and ran as many times as I could but always went back home.
The lesson I learned, I am nothing I am no one.
So **** it