when reaching for the stars, sometimes you have to grab the moon and pull yourself up.
Someone just asked me what advise I would give my sons. I replied, "Don't have kids unless you can effectively hide a body because no matter what… A good father will lose to a mediocre mother in court every fucking time."
You know the score… She wants you to suffer… to live in agony. She put the screws to you pretty hard with the help of the court… by a judge who only saw you as a number and only glanced over the situation with the same attention as an ad for diapers. She wants you in pain… But there's a flaw in her logic. The more pain you are in the more intense the rage in you becomes. She is a miserable person… and she wants you to be just like her. But you won't be. You'll be worse.
thank you all for prioritizing my channel.
The air is getting colder… snow in the forecast. You wake up to seeing your breath in the candle light. Week three of no power. Just make it to next Wednesday… Maybe the charity organization can help you. Maybe they can offer a reprieve. You've never questioned God, or his plan… but it seems like he's put you in a place even he can't help you out of.
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The door closes quietly as you wave goodbye to the one person who is innocent in this whole shitshow. He's too engrossed in the tablet, watching a Lipton tea commercial to give you all of his attention. You refuse to let the tears flow… even though your heart crumbles to dust. You try so hard to replay the past two days in your head… the laughs… the playing… the cuddles while watching Paw Patrol…but the harder you try, the hazier the memories become… until you finally say "fuck it" and snap out of the autopilot you've been running on induced by your struggle with trying to redeem yourself. Every sliver of goodness has been ripped away from you. Let the anger in… let that darkness envelope you… Buy the bottle of rotgut bourbon, you need to break the twenty in your pocket for bus money anyway… Besides, the court awarded his alcoholic mother custody of him. I guess Iowa likes to have the innocent children around drunkards, so you probably should just join the party. I know you're hurting… and that's good. Remember this pain… remember how your first three children were ripped from you as well… let that bourbon burn fuel the hatred in your soul… Remember this. As if you could ever forget…
I told my boss a few years ago if I ever got wrote up for anything I didn't deserve, I would eat the write up.
Another day down… another night in your ramshackle trailer with no power… no heat… and the temperature's going down like a homecoming date on Molly. Sure, the child support laws are "supposed" to be different now… but you got grandfathered in on that old testament shit, Buckaroo Banzai… and they got your nuts in vice so God damned tight, it would take a presidential pardon and the Second Coming to clear your debt. And even then… they'll still find a way to bleed you… to keep you broke…
She took her maiden name back two days ago… Even when you were on the witness stand… And her cold, rattlesnake glare met your eyes… You still couldn't hate her…
Just go with it. Stop your cycle of self sabotage. Enjoy her smile, angelic laugh, and sweetly soft voice. Treasure the conversations… and for Christ's sake, don't fart in front of her.
Being a parent to a disabled child definitely will temper your mettle. It will turn ordinary people into ground chuck… It will turn the best people into tungsten clad warriors who can kick open the gates of Hell and drag the Devil out by his scrote if that's what it takes to care for their child.
You wake up to a dreary morning and a three block walk in the rain to the bus stop. Hand in tiny hand with a wide eyed three year old in an adorable little hoodie under a Mickey Mouse jacket who just wants to stomp the puddles. You've made the walk with him dozens of times and every time he finds another reason to make you smile. Today, it's the victorious giggle as he looks up at you, proud of himself after curb stomping a cold pool of water sending a spray of cold wake up fluid soaking your leg from the crotch down. Good morning times, Dad.
He groggily stirs as you gently wake him. His tiny hands rubbing his sleepy eyes, as he let's out an adorable little yawn. As he opens his steel blue eyes you greet him as you do every morning you have him… with a smile and an excited, "Good morning times! Did you sleep good? Big hugs!"
This ain't your first rodeo. You knew she wasn't going to make it easy for you. on the contrary… She wants to make you suffer… to hurt you any and every way possible. As if you didn't have enough working against you. all you can do is crack your knuckles, pop your neck back into alignment, roll your shoulders and say, " I want you to hit me as hard as you can", and smile as she takes her best shot.
There is something to be said for boarding an empty, rickety city bus after a 9 hour workday. It fucking sucks. Especially when you can practically taste the stench of alcohol sweats off the winner who boarded four blocks after you. As the putrid odor assaults your gag reflex and you're fighting to keep from spewing your lunch all over the place, Mr. Bender-on-a-thursday-afternoon plops right down two seats from you, leans close and wafts what can only be described as a three week old Cubs game into your face with slurred words, "'Ay…you gotta cuzzin? Cuz you look familiar… like a du' I know… Ain't you got a cuzzin?" All you can do is be polite and wonder what you did in a past life to have this apparent "Fucked Up People Magnet" that draws all the dregs straight to you.
The days he goes back to his mother's are always the worst. You try to keep your mind occupied, but you've watched all the DVDs in your collection enough to quote them. Verbatim. You try to reach out to friends, but they're always too busy… If they even respond to your text. It starts to feel like the only thing you're good for is to have things taken from you. And the things you care about most are what's targeted… The more you care, the harder they fight you for it… you fight and struggle to keep everything balanced and copacetic… You fight and fight and fight, and soon it becomes all you know until you're fighting your own shadow like a rabid dog chasing it's tail.
Tell me how someone can think after two years of only having their child ten days a month, they can decide they want to be Supermom and try to rip the child from you? This bitch has got to be on some high grade, Hiesenberg shit.
As he takes his nap, you can't help but be grateful. Grateful for the time with him… and for the fact he's too young to understand what happened between you and his mother. All you can do is smile a sad, bittersweet smile and put his half drank sippy cup of milk in the fridge.
When it was no longer "Me and Her vs. The World" it became "Ain't Nobody Gonna Come Between You and Me, Babybear".
He tosses and turns on the couch… in his Mickey Mouse shirt and dungarees… he succumbed to sleep Les than a half hour after you both walked in the door. So what if he's napping… he's home and that's all that matters.
So… I have been here for less than a week. could someone please tell me the SOL to Vote ratio? is it like 10 votes to .00000001 or what?
The bass throbs in your chest in your nieghbor's smoky living room. House full of people and you still feel alone. The scotch hits your tongue and burns it's way down… warming you like a thermonuclear electric blanket… you don't really feel like being there… too many couples… but it's better than being at your cold, empty bed.
Isn't it a bitch when the only women who show any interest in you are thousands of miles away?
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When you start to notice little things like a new pair of glasses… a different colored hair tie… whether she's got her green or black ear gauges in… that's when you know you're in for a disappointment, Cochise.
Anything is within the realm of possibility, so before you laugh or dismiss the any theory as the ravings of someone who is nothing short of a functioning lunatic just remember… Only a fool would have the audacity to believe they have a total grasp of how the universe works.
Let there be spaces in your togetherness, And let the winds of the heavens dance between you. Love one another but make not a bond of love: Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls. Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup. Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf. Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone, Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music....