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My name is very little, and this is my story

I am 26 and I struggle with Suicide


Hey You,
Whoever you are. I've allways loved love and will love when poets look out towards their prospective reader. I am a 26 year old male white, supposedly, and I prefer women but I've had some moments in my life where I had to sit very awkwardly with the odd (er) otter? Dimensions of sexuality. Certain doors open whipping ly fast only to close again and then remain locked in a cave like she'll of despair and anger and saddisms, sadness and so forthy. I am a very generous reader, I think, I feel. I don't know what I mean but I mean every thing that might be meant. I try to read everything and I get myself MAY (ME!) in trouble sometimes. I started stealing liquor when I was very young to get drunk and have organs (orgies) with friends. At like 12 years old. 11 and 12. I bloomed REALLY electrically early. And I got myself MAYME in trouble rather often. Once I discovered opioids, I fell what I thought was love but dope can't love you back you crazy lady man lady pants. I sometimes wonder if I had or have the mind of a lesbian because I don't particularly like men. I have a friend who came onto me one time MAY during an acid trip and I freaked out royally. Lost my tits and my brain. But I wonder if it wasn't that he was just holding a mirror up to me. I'm all about self interrogation but I did NOT like how he gazed at me. I nearly shat myself. And I've been away from him, this person who used to be my best friend for a long time. After I was kicked out of the band and after I had a son at 13. (Yes! A little wee boy) named Tyler. I picked up cutting from his mom. Not exactly suicidal cutting all the time but just the thrill of seeing the skin/flesh open and the blood spill out like milk. I got really turnt once when I cut myself with a razor so deep that it didn't bleed maybe 10–15 seconds and then slowly it poured forth. What a dream it was. I used to bleed on the towels and leave them in the hall closet and my mom'd find them and say, Would you please stop bleeding on the towels? With a very heavy face and dark eyes. I wanted her to talk to me about it but it was no use. My dad'd been gone for a long long long time. Since I was, perhaps, 6 or 7. And would come and see us on Christmas. My sister thought the hotels he stayed at were called CALIFORNIAS, she didn't know that was the state we were in. Isn't that bloody cute? My dad was big on spankings and belts and spoons even. We've always suspected that my schizophrenic sister beth she was diagnosed I don't really know, that her and my dad were having an affair. I don't know. They were very close. We live down the street because she's never made it on her own. My mom and I still live together. Everyone else has left. And I am very scared of her dying. She is an addict-alcoholica as well. She drinks a bottle of pink champagne errday and pain killers and little wee bits of Xanax. A benzodiazepine. My sister Gretchen is with an abusive guy who is an anti semite as well as Armenian, which is great but he is not a nice person. It's like he has a hairball and he's blaming everyone for the fact that he likes to lock his Butt hole I meant lick!!! I love kittens. God created the cat so that the human could pet the tiger. I truly believe that. She is harassing my eldest sister Shelby for no particular reason. Shelby is a lesbian so I identify with her. She also has many health problems and when my ex wife and I (we never really got married, it's just easier like thay) conceived we happened to be in NEW YORK visiting my sister, who my littlest sisterr now hates because of this new dude. I love my son a lot. I got in trouble when I was out there. I broke into my sisters backpack and stole prolly 8 of her vicodin. I can still remember what SHE said, WHY CAN'T YOU JUST TAKE 1 OR 2, YOU NEARLY EMPTIED OUT THE BOTTLE! I felt such high pitched shame, I couldnt go anywhere with it to save my life. I looked like Robert Smith of the cure. My ex wife decorated me the way she thought looked best and a black boy said something and the shame prickled up myour spine again. She said, if you don't wanna dress like that then dont.
Oh boy, that was tough. I really liked her. I found her pain intoxicating. Something got romanticized. Especially at that age. Not so much anymore. I still have a wee bit of a drug thing. Well I always will, I guess. I did AA for a wee while, over a ye a r and then I left. I met a guy there who sort of validated may and it was bad. My sponsor was who I should've called but obviously I wasn't ready yet, because, secretly I am trying to get rid of this body and this soul-logic. And all the other things involved with it. Mythology, belief, religion, violence, romance, everything. I just want to obliterate myself. But I dont. Because of wee signs such as semi colon. And other stories of hope. My friend is working on a 27 volume novel about a 12 year old little girl who finds a wee little kitten. It's called THE FAMILIAR if you haven't heard and it's based on the TV series of the same name. We are returning at the end of this month, when VOLUME 5 ; REDWOOD comes out. I am a very excited person. And I'm trying to use this opportunity to shovel myself out of the shit (if you get the TWIN PEAKS reference you win a prize.) I am no longer concerned with politics or anything like that, but treating others the way you want to be treated. Perhaps. There are so many different angles of opinion going on in 2017, I'm no longer if ever am interested in picking sides. I reccomend Simone Weils book the abolition of all political parties for instance. Okay I'm very tired now. This is messy, isn't it?
You're not allone. (Alon3). Whoever you are. Mr and Mrs.
Ghost. I love you. Just for this moment. I might be continents or milliseconds away from you and the pain you love (live) with. But I can assure you that no matter how crazy you feel you are or how much of a failure you think you've become, life is allways much more than you can possibly imagine during an episode of shame or terror or paralysis. Afterwards, perhaps you will make sense of why something happened to you, and it will grant you strength. This is not the end of the road for you. Press on. That's from an under oath song. Just a metal band we all used to listen to at a wee age. I love you stranger.
I LOVE YOU!


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