Well, we have reached the 9th month of the year. It was July yesterday. I had moved to Berkeley with plans of leaving the country. I just feel like there is everything pulling me to stay. I am going to cut any emotions that can cloud my judgements. I just need to leave. As I gather myself and my identity I am realizing that I am who I am and I don’t need to change that. No one is else is changing to relate to me. How fucking unfair is that? Life is unfair you say. I of all people know how true that is. Shit, being born Black isn’t fair and I have to fight this unfairness everyday. It’s exhausting. You don’t know the struggle. I don’t expect you to relate to it. But recognize it. My feelings aren’t lies. You’re not allowed to not believe.
I have been happier on my own. I have been gaining a sense of self again. I am slowly recognizing some weaknesses of mine. I am making plans to fix some of these issues. Implement different practices in life.
The title is about regrets. This about my dear little cat that I traumatically cut out of my life. It is actually causing him some emotional pain. He is licking the fur off his body obsessively. He yowls throughout the day. He is emotionally stressed.
I feel so bad because I really was hard on him about the separation. I was still in the house for a month before I left and I denied him affection and love. I did it such a bad way. I should of loved him until the last second. I was more concerned about my own attachments with him and the other cat. I didn’t think about how it would affect him. We were so so close.
He is also such a delicate animal in general having gotten very sick in the last three months. Other parts of his health are fine now after the poisoning he went through, but I really put him through some stress and didn’t realize because of my own need to emotionally unattach. Poor thing.
I can’t have pets here. It’s not an option for me to keep him. He has to stay at The Ex’s. I know that the cats don’t get much attention since I am not there. I was the main care taker. I doted on them and they no longer have that. They don’t even have another human being to be with. They’re both lonely.
It hurts my heart.
I can no longer call my place of work a school. I will stretch and call it a language institute. I am an instructor. The purpose has changed from being a place of learning to just having fun and vacationing. No expectations from “students “. Just dance is the expectations on the “instructors”. Entertain. Don’t challenge them. They just want fun. Let them spit in your face. We’re going to perpetuate the idea of poor education in the states. Teachers aren’t serious. Teaching isn’t serious. One of the fucking reasons I want to leave this country. I’ve been very serious about this job and I have been told to not to be…where is that fine line, that balance?
She tried to give me trash. We’ve been separate for two months. Lucky for me I don’t have to clean up after it. Her apartment. I was glad to leave. It was a great chance to down size my life. As I packed all my things I realized how much of me she got rid of. I basically had clothing and medicine. So when I left I was good with everything I took.
I guess I left my grandmother’s quilt. In the bag she put in these sharp containers I had used to put used insulin needles. Once these boxes are closed they cannot be reopened. They become trash. She tried to give me trash. Well, I wouldn’t take them. Then she gave the trash to a friend to give to me after I said I couldn’t use them. She is so like that. Just expects me to be okay with her trash.
I watched the Princess Bride so many time. I never based mine on the movie. Not in the least, but it has this grip in our society, and this choking grip lashes out on our youth like massa whipping Toby. Like many others I stepped to the alter wanting to bind with this person forever. And like many before me, we don’t see the demon until it has totally sucked us dry. Then we recognize that our effort was for nought. FUCK! What have I been doing? Eight years of dreaming of what should be. Eight years convinced that people change. Sure they do…if they want to. Only a narcissistic individual would believe that they don’t need to change. I mean, we all don’t think “oh change is nice. That’s all I want to do. NO. it doesn’t happen that way. Change does happen when you love someone so much you don’t want to hurt them anymore than you have already.
They are fucking fun to shoot. I am truly a Texan with great aim. It could be the years shooting bb guns as a kid and granted we were only shooting 22s…I am impressed with my cluster.
I was also impressed with all the people of color coming into pop off some larger gauges. It’s my hope to go back and shoot some more. It was also inexpensive to shoot for an hour.
Ah. The satisfaction of the explosion in your hand and checking the target after. I can understand why people love guns. What is confusing is the education people lack around it. For safety at least. Also for safety, make people get a license. Quick background checks. We don’t need to federally intense checks. If that person has a police record then maybe they should be looked into. This person wants something that he could swing in someone’s face and pop off at any time. Then my last question of safety is, What about the children?
I want a gun. I think certain people would reconsider the background check if a shit load of Black guys applied for a gun license. I don’t even want a gun for protection. I like shooting it. I want to shoot at things or animals if it will be food. Guns are cool.
I get it. Wanting to have guns. I don’t get the fear of government taking them away. I don’t believe that will ever happen. Hey, this country is sick. It doesn’t want to get better. This country wants to spread its illness around the world. Guns rule. That’s why our government has so many. Don’t complain about the citizens, what about the government? Who gave us this mentality? We Americans live the belief that bullets are power.
I read my first suicide note or rather a goodbye? I don’t know but it was certainly powerful in the sense that you could feel the pain and the release of that pain at the end of the letter. The life had lived long but became so hellish in illness that was incurable I understand what had to be done. It’s a farewell in a time when sometime I want to let go myself but I mustn’t because I can still make it. It’s sad when some can’t make it. Let’s face it. Some people just can’t and we shouldn’t expect them to.