So, I kind of fell off of the band wagon, in particularly, because I don’t know what I should be really writing about, or even if I should be publish the letters I write to my daughter. But I guess that’ll be okay, so long as no one important finds out. But I have decided to continue writing my little letters and little poems and short stories, and I am working on a big project, I’d hope to get going so that will be posted piece by piece and I will also be posting little photographs because it seems people like some of my photography so hopefully, you guys will enjoy my new-ish content!
I had two attempts on my life, and they say, that if you don’t succeed you never really want to kill yourself.
I ran away on multiple occasions, and I thought I could end my life with the blade of a knife. But the first time I ran away, I lived on the streets for several days, contemplating what my life is worth, just trying to develop who I was and my personality. I did not know anything and I was in search of meaning that would satiate my quiet desperation. Any my despair was quite, I was a quite kid, who was picked on, as I have mentioned, I was beaten and stabbed and my ear cut in half. But do not get my wrong, I wouldn’t stand still, I would defend myself to violent extremes literally beating people half to death. This was my high school life. Excluding the hunger and the poverty, I had to fight and all I have known in the life was fighting–my dad was in the armed forces and it was his emphasis. This was not the kind of life I wanted, I felt like a savage, like a barbarian struggling to find the next meal and at war with the people around me. I just wanted to escape.
I was a run away, and the first time I ran away, they put me in a mental institution because of the collection of wounds on my body. I refused to eat for several days: the hunger was crippling. But in due time, they let me out with my parents cooperation; however, I never cooperated with them.
During this time, I was looking into poetry and writing as an outlet for my stress. My therapist told me to try it, I only saw him for the duration of the contract that was necessary for my release.
IT was a bottle of pills and household poisons, my mom was in the house, but my parents usually never bother me; however, for some odd reason my mom tried to come into my room and I never lock my door, mainly because my parents never really bother me, but they will occasionally just come in and that is what happened. Combined with a history, my mom did not hesitate to call emergency services.
After this point I left home and lived in my car for several weeks in search of the stars. I seemed to have pulled my life together after this point and I had gotten into the 4th top school in the United States.
I pursued a relationship with on of my professors at that point and then…
I want to see my daughter, it has been a while, and I feel like I have been missing out on every moment of her life. I want to squeeze her and hold her so tightly when I see her, but I fear she may not recognize me and cry. I imagine the things I have missed on my absence, and I can help but feel debilitated and weak–unable to do anything for an hour or so because I am just crying my heart out. I know I cannot give her what she deserves, but I try my best. If I could drown for her and give my life to her that way, I would; but I just have to stay strong and to work hard everyday until I can give her the things I need.
When I was in a relationship with my college professor, she was pregnant, and shortly after we got in a horrible fight–I am to blame for the fight–but I gave her a sincere apology and begged her to forgive me. She refused for a while, as I lay in my filth and tears trying to regain something I had lost a long time ago, something I could never touch again. The battle lasted for hours, and I felt like nothing. She was sitting on her bed, and I left the room, I wanted to be a lone, and after she pointed out how useless I was and I was better off dead. I hung myself with my belt. At this point, she continued to yell at me and when she realized I wasn’t saying anything, she went looking for me and then released the belt from my neck and then yelled at me some more. (Hahaha writing it down makes it seem so absurd.) In a few short weeks we started seeing therapists and relationship counselors and stuff like that, but the relationship crumbled, and whimpered. I tried my best to keep it together for my daughter, but I couldn’t pull the world together.
Well, I felt like I was nothing, but today I am grasping at every piece of individuality I can regain and I am building the foundation for my daughter, myself and hopefully a family.
I was never really a great person, but there is a lot about me, and I am just using this as a means to change myself and sort through some of my past.
Everyday I do not see my daughter, I think of her. I am evoked to tears by a handful of songs three in particular: “Unsteady – X Ambassador”; “Stubborn Love – The Lumineers” and “Mess is Mine – Vance Joy.” Every time I hear one of these songs, I think about my past and how I must use my body as a stepping stool for my daughter. It makes me think of an Article I read “Father’s Last Embrace Saved 3-Year-Old Daughter In Building Collapse.” I just want to fight harder for her, so that she does not have the life I had.
I grew up in a loving family, but we were torn a part for reasons beyond me. My mother and I lived on the streets of the city until we made it into a homeless shelter. And that is kind of how I grew up, scrounging around with my mom. I was a quiet boy, and there wasn’t really much to me, and I would always be at my mom’s side and everything she said to me was a means of survival. If I made a mistake, it would have been a detriment to both of our existences. Most of my memories of those times are faint, but the emotions are engrained in my head, the painful hunger, the fear, the loneliness, the shame. I couldn’t help it, and my mom had too much hubris to seek help–and for my daughter, I fear, I may have that flaw as well. I grew up with a handful of items that I cherished, but those too were stolen, faded away or simply broke.
The worse of my feelings were hunger, I remember being so hungry during school, I could not focus on anything but suppressing the pain just for another moment just for another day until I could have a morsel of food.
Things got better when we lived in the shelter. I do not remember being as hungry, and my mom got the support she needed to get off of the streets, get a job and get us into a home.
That Is something I cannot let my daughter live in the pain of not having the basic tools to survive in this world.
I want to give her everything. I have to give her everything whether it crushes my body, she cannot have the life I endured. I have to keep my heart resilient and My hopes high, and strive for her. For her to live.
I got into a relationship with my college professor.
My life has been a roller coaster of chaos and fury and where I am now is something I have to find out. At first, I was escaping poverty and a series of consequences from poor high school decisions. I went to a local junior college and I was determined to make a change in my life for the better. Everyday I would read the poems “Invictus” by William Ernest Henley and “If-” by Rudyard Kipling in an attempt to model my personality and enforce my will with the endurance to study and overcome the daily hunger from being incapable of purchasing an adequate amount of food to make and bring to school.
During these years, I made ceaseless strides to achieve what I perceived to be greatness–my grades were high standing and I was volunteering to help the community and aiding in the rescue and care taking of animals. At this point I took interest in one of my college professors. I told her about my history and the struggles I endured, and she told me about hers. I felt a unity, an undeniable unity with her: our story was unique and we struggled to build a foundation to a collapsing and burning life. I did my best in school and got into one of the top 10 colleges in the nation.
Although she resisted, I insisted: I was an adult and age did not matter, I was capable of more and I have overcame a lot. I would wait for her to pursue a relationship, and I did, and we made a relationship happen. But quickly, I poisoned the well, because I was financial inept and I would remove myself from aspects of the relationship. This was the start of our aggressive fighting, and my will was quickly slaughtered, my grades dropped and I lost my position at my university. We fought persistently and relentlessly, exhausting us both, and with her age pressing on her and the desire to start a family, we started developing the relationship until the fighting began to cease.
I got a new job and then I started going back to school. One night, I was returning home from work, which was an hour drive, and she excitedly tells me how she has missed her period and how she was trying to deduce the possibilities. She tells me she wants to see the stick at the same time as me, and when she presents it to me, it was positive. She was pregnant. It happened during one of our delightful excursions we deduced together…
Months had passed and our relationship collapsed, and I tried my best to support it with my flesh and body, but it crushed me.I took a couple of months of maternity leave when our baby was born. We emotionally drifted from each other, and I stayed aiding as best as I could in taking care of our daughter but we can removed the notion of the relationship.
I left her place recently and she took full custody of our baby. I am trying to gather the pieces and rediscover myself and the world.
Since then, I hardly see my daughter as I would like, but that is to be expected, I must remind myself to stay persistent and be present in her life. She deserves the world and I must maintain the strength to support it on my shoulders. It is difficult for me to be in relationships; however, I have found someone who has accepted me and all of my flaws.
Then I cheated on her, I told her and apologized, and she left me. I have never cheated on anyone before and I despise the fact that my ex did so, yet I have sullied myself. And this is where I am now. A bit in the middle of nowhere.