A little back and forth.

12/16/2009




I honestly don’t know how much longer I can go on. I am completely broke. After paying rent, child support and bills I have about $370 to live on every month. Out of that money, I need to get gas, food and entertain my kids when they visit. I don’t buy movies, music or anything really. The only thing I bought was a camera. It’s a cheap refurbished camera and I wanted something to take pictures of my girls with. My cable is the bare minimum. No movie channels, no HD, nothing but basic channels. I keep the cable because I need some form of stimulation. I don’t have a girlfriend. I don’t eat out, I don’t drink. I quit smoking; I buy the cheapest food possible. I just don’t have the money. I am stuck paying this rent I can’t really afford for another year. I grabbed the first place I could find after being told I needed to move out of my home. It was a horrible decision, but I needed to leave as soon as possible.

I’ve had to cancel my therapist appointment and my appointment to see about meds. I can’t afford to go. Christmas is coming up. My girls aren’t going to get shafted this year, but they won’t be getting much from me. And that just sucks. With everything they are going through right now, they deserve a special, magical day.



1985



At age thirteen I would get hard. All the time, for no reasons what so ever. I could count on it. Every day in math class at 9:15, there was no one there that turned me on. Mr. Nickel the teacher certainly didn’t do it. Algebra didn’t do. But sure enough 9:15 would hit and up it went.

Throughout the day this would happen. The only time it didn’t was during PE. Which is good, I was shitty enough at sports without having a boner during baseball. I was already a target and getting hard in the locker room? I would have been killed while being called a faggot. I was already being called a faggot, but the beatings would be an addition.

Towards the end of seventh grade it started to settle down. It still had a mind of its own, but it didn’t happen as much.

I discovered masturbation. I wasn’t a full on perv beating off to anything that moved, but I was thirteen and a boy. I was never going to get a girlfriend and at thirteen I certainly wasn’t going to be getting laid so what else are you going to do? I would sit up late at night watching soft core porn on cinemax with the sound turned down, get hard and go in my room. How the hell I was never caught amazes me. There wasn’t anyone in my fantasies, I kept my mind blank and did the job. Like I said, I was thirteen; I wouldn’t know what to do anyway. That settled down too, but for awhile, I was my own best friend.



Other then that I really don’t remember much of seventh grade; I mostly hung back in the pack hidden by the masses of popular kids. I would make up stories about what I did on vacations and days off from school. I told people about places I had never been to, making up the details as I went along. Things I had done with friends from out of town or uncles I didn’t really have. I wasn’t close to these people so I didn’t really care if they believed me or not. But if they smiled or laughed at on of my stories, it egged me on and the tale would get bigger and bigger. I would make reports on these fake travels in English class. I always got good grades on them. I found out later that my English teacher was friends with my mother. She asked her one day how she enjoyed going to Mexico. My mother told her that she had never been there. The jig was up. I was busted. My mother beat the crap out of me for lying to the teacher. I stopped doing fake reports after that. It was hard; my fantasy life was so much more entreating then the real thing.

To this day, nothing makes me feel as good as when someone laughs at one of my stories or smiles at something I said.

I did that.

I brought them a little happiness for a second.

It makes me feel alive.

I am such an attention whore.