*Apply Puking Sound Here*.

There’s so much that I’ve wanted to,

say in earnestness to you,

along the lines of all your lies,

I’d like add some truth of mine;

Throughout everything, I have been,

a loyal and trustworthy friend,

I didn’t fuck with your reputation,

should’ve put you on blast way back then;

Instead I held my tongue through all,

despite the hurt and opened scars,

I tried to deny who you really are,

I cried out my eyes when I finally saw;

and you thought that time would fade away,

the colors you’ve sported so flamboyantly,

yet, they are still vividly singed in my eyes,

along with the piles of your garbage and lies;

just because you are too shallow and small,

to admit  your despicable ways, after all,

you assume that everyone you’ve burned,

will forget the lessons you’ve made them learn,

and perhaps most of your friends don’t recall,

how you’ve fucked them over – one and all,

perhaps they are comfortable cushioning your fall,

and carrying you so you won’t have to crawl;

but I am no longer a true friend of yours,

though I will play nice and stay on all fours,

let you keep on fucking a hole in the floor,

            things will come back on you, you will get yours.


To know that it’s true,
This knowledge, so new,
To recognize what I’ve been trying not to.
To harbor not a single doubt,
Surrounding all that I’ve found out,
The clout they’ve always given you.
A thing so lowly and despicable,
Goes right along with how you roll,
It’s pathetic but not a shocking truth.
The shock may be in another truth,
One I’ll share in turn with you,
How that stupid choice has leaked on through.
How from now on no REAL WOMAN can respect,
Such a tainted by baby-talk dialect,
No righteous woman will want to touch you.
So you’re stuck forever in the land of STD’s,
Though I must say, it fits your mentality,
You’re fucking 40, and she’s 22.

The Empath and The Opportunist – Continued.

He is carrying on about the business; about profit and loss…I am sitting here across the table from him, wondering why the Hell I even have anything, much less such a co-dependent kinda thing, with this fucking guy of all people.

His father just died, after a long and trying illness, he is sad and needy right now; yet, he only wants to talk business, as usual. Whatever dude…let me print out a P & L and we will comb the fucking books then, fine with me.

Men are so puzzling this way: so likened to a fucking light switch when it comes to using the experiences we have in life as a means of enriching our relationships with each other. They don’t know how to approach it, they just kill the whole operation; they can’t figure it out, they just tune it out; they can’t accurately compartmentalize it, they simply pretend it isn’t there.

Men seem just as happy (or so they like to believe) with stuffing it all down until they are no longer capable of stuffing. And then: Ka-Boom. Right?

This particular man has the capacity to say the right things and do them too, when it might suit his fancy for whatever reasons…but, those times hardly ever overlap with my own times of receptiveness these days, after all that’s passed between us. He has that shit-eating smile that can stop traffic from across the street; but he also happens to be one of the very last people I would ever lean on for any reason – as I have learned the lesson in his case that I will fall the fuck over, should I lean even the slightest bit on him. He always said he loved me because I am “built with so much substance” and am “so deep of a person”, and the reason he thinks he “loves” this about me is because he lacks these things completely. He sings such horseshit as “stability” and “security” (please note: he straight the fuck up tossed me like last week’s milk like two years ago and badly broke my heart), while sporting me on an arm that he can detach from his shoulder at any time via some hidden release mechanism. I am honest with him about how I can’t and never could again – trust him on the levels that matter (to me, at least)…he seems to care less. I don’t sleep with him any more either, and haven’t for almost two years, so he knows that I’m not just talking shit. Whatever, let’s file a tax voucher instead.

The Empath and the Opportunist – Continued.

NOTE: “The Opportunist” is someone who broke my heart pretty completely about a year ago; someone who I gave too much to, and got little in return from; someone who made it painfully apparent when I failed to present any further opportunity for him that he had no reason to stay.

He showed up on Saturday to watch the fight at the Man Cave with his lifelong friend, my roommate, Dice. I had known he would be coming – they were ALL gonna be coming, I knew (it turned out to be 16 men and 2 women, including myself) watching the fight.
His face told very sad stories immediately upon opening the front door and seeing him: eyes down-turned and swollen, bottom lip protruding out slightly…unable to make any eye contact with me. I knew something was wrong right away – because despite everything we have been through, he has never been unable to look me in the eye. Oddly, before I could even give it any logical thought, I blurted out:
“What’s wrong Opportunist? Is it your Dad?” (Of course I used his real name, though)
He just fell apart right there on the spot. Came unglued altogether. His father has been deteriorating at a sporadic pace from Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s; and has recently become very fearful, paranoid and much like a strange child to his own helpless family. I watched when I was a young girl, as my great-grandmother faded to Alzheimer’s – it undoubtedly broke my great-grandfather’s heart and was the most traumatizing experience that he had ever lived through…I often think he wished he wouldn’t have.
Anyway, the empath in me was alive and well on Saturday; I hugged him, and sat with him, and talked with him for hours – let him talk about the living nightmare that he is currently undertaking in regard to watching his Dad slip away in mind and body. We ended up missing the main event fight altogether because he was obviously in greater need of talking to someone about his Dad. In a house full of his best friends that he’s known since first grade or earlier – I found it striking that it was ME he ended up in the garage with all day and night while none of them bothered to even inquire about his father’s status. I guess that’s just a guy thing, I don’t know. Either way, there we were together.


Image“So, I, uh…found your blog yesterday…” his voice trails off at the lack of my response. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?” my irritation must be palpable to him then;

He physically withdrawals before saying, “Tell me….uh, tell me how you feel, all that stuff about m-“

I cut him off before he can finish the final word of the sentence; highly distracted by my own thoughts on a subject having nothing to do with his sorry ass, I say without even looking in his direction, “What the fuck makes you think it’s about you?…Damn get over yourself, already.”

Of course, it was about him; and he knows this – because he knows what we’ve gone through and there’s no mistaking the details I written.

He makes an all-too-familiar face that looks like he just swallowed an entire peeled lemon with holes in it; and starts to shake his fat head at me in his typical, condescending way: his way of telling me that he’s smarter than me, and that I don’t know what I’m talking about.

“Whatever, that was then – when I wrote that…”

He breaks in with a matter-of-fact voice and says, “’Then’ was only like a month and a half ago, you know?”

“Oh look who can suddenly count days!” I cannot help myself; I’m fucking childish that way.


He waits…patiently, in one of his stuck-up, patriarchal poses that I’m sure he practices in the mirror during moments alone. I am uncomfortable; I do not want him here, nor do I want to discuss these meaningless things with him – I do not want to even know him anymore, wish I never had.

“Who fucking cares?” I stand from the step on the front porch, where I had hesitantly taken my seat moments before, my face is feeling hot and my blood pressure rises like a tidal wave in my veins; I say,

“There’s not a God damned thing in that blog that I didn’t tell you…I told you that shit more than once, as a matter of fact. YOU decided that those things were invalid to YOU, in case you conveniently don’t recall that part of things…”

He shoots a hand up from where he sits to grab my arm as I spin by him towards my front door; his face is pleading, as if he he’s lost or out of gasoline.

“DON’T touch me.” I am not afraid of this fat head; in fact, I am quite certain that despite his extraordinary mass in size and height, I could take him easily – because he is a total fucking pussy. But his touch makes me recoil and think of dark things and bad places – metaphoric of my disgust with myself for ever believing his eloquently constructed, pseudo-village of lies.

ImageI snap my hand away from his, and go inside – hammering the door closed behind me with a loud crack!

His muffled voice expels what I make out as various obscenities through the solid door as he shuffles down the porch and away from me; thank you Gods…thank you. What a varmint…must be nice on the planet he lives on.

Judgment Day

He LIED to me, blatantly and cruelly, despite my genuine support of HIS BULLSHIT for so long – day in and day out –


And while that type of thing is obviously okay with you and your people, it IS NOT OKAY with me. I didn’t deserve it; I didn’t ask for it (literally, the opposite); and I will damned if I am going to be further insulted about the fucked up bullshit that I just endured at the hands of your “friend” by you – when you truly have no clue what you’re even talking about. It sucks that you had to go there and say the absolute worst thing you could possibly say to me in regard to that pondscum “friend” of yours – and my so-called “unnecessary drama”. Where the hell do you get off?


For the record (and so that next time you go talking about it, you KNOW what the fuck REALLY went on):

I tried (beginning several months ago) to break it off. This was due to the fact that I DID, INDEED, SEE THIS BULLSHIT COMING. I tried telling him so many times that I didn’t want shit to end up this way, and all he ever said back to me was stuff like, “Don’t worry…”, or “It’s fine…”, or my personal favorite, “I still want to continue this when I move out…” I tried to tell him that I had no interest in becoming his “booty call”, he swore that wasn’t the case…

Next, when I tried to explain that I had feelings involved for him, and was feeling very used and discarded (based solely on his actions and lack, thereof), in hope that he would understand that this wasn’t stupid game to me – it’s my life – what little there is left of one anyway…he only became more unwilling to behave like a human being. He continued to lie to me throughout his actual move – to appease me in order to continue having his God damned cake and eating it, too. The last batch he dropped off to me prior to the last one, I stood my ground solidly and flat out told him I was losing interest in him and his head games, that I didn’t feel like he was worthy of my attention or affection, that I didn’t want to see him anymore outside of his visits to see you or whatever. He seemed to take in stride, which pissed me off but I let it go.

The very next day, I sent him a text asking to see him before the weekend to swap out batches, as I had finished what he left with me, and he showed up here an hour later – all sweet and sugar-coated, all full of his bullshit lies and head games, and I caved. The next day, I was so angry at myself, and at him, for being such a sucker. I told him so. He proceeded to dog me out once more (the time he flaked me off all day and then showed up shitfaced drunk on a Sunday night), and when he got here, I again, tried to send him packing.

I said: “I don’t want you here if you don’t want to be here.”

He said: “I do, I do want to be here, and you are the only one…I swear.”

And then I let him in my bed again, because I wanted to believe the leis he was telling me, that he’s always been telling me ALL ALONG.


Please understand that this entire thing has been a head game on my end; and it’s been quite an unjust head game, to boot. I will never understand how certain people are able to sleep at night, but it’s not my place to understand sociopathy, I guess.

All that I know is:

When you or anyone else in your highly misinformed group of “friends” feel obliged to judge me (as I KNOW you ALL do, without doubt), especially in the context of either of the maggot “friends” of yours that I have stupidly tangled with – it would always be more respectable and much less cruel, to actually have the facts and information before doing so. Otherwise, you chalk yourself up with the rest of your “friends” by behaving like a judgmental and pompous jackass.


I get it, that you and the rest of your “friends” are okay with treating people badly, as long as it doesn’t affect you directly; even if it’s someone you’ve known pretty well and who’s been a staunch ally to you, I get that by now trust me. What I don’t get, and likely never will, is how it is that some people are so capable of smashing what’s REAL and TRUE with the faulty and fabricated bullshit that fits more comfortably for them, for their own life – no regard for what’s right versus what’s wrong, no loyalties (at least, not to the deserving). It’s lost on me.




I keep stumbling across all of these stupid reminders of the person who I just lost from the rest of my life: someone whose lost presence made things seem better, someone who used to make me laugh every single day, multiple times…someone who was never really was, most likely.

ImageA weathered “missing” crossbow arrow, stuck firmly into a fence post from last summer when this person and myself shot everything and anything we could aim at in the backyard; tiny, yellow, plastic bbs that I still find rolling silently beneath my bare feet in the hallway…echoes of laughter and sunlight and smiles that were unprompted and genuine on my behalf…things that don’t come easily for me with anyone.

A safe in the garage, full of this person’s precious valuables and stacks of money – things this person doesn’t trust to leave with ANYONE or ANYWHERE else; quarts and quarts of “butter” in the refrigerator that I have to get my meals out of every time I get hungry – which isn’t very often any more, anyway, but still…it makes me remember the person who left these things here in comparison to the person who will be coming back to retrieve them: An ugliness that is painful and sour in my belly.

The deep reverberation of sound that resonates within this place’s new emptiness from wall to bare wall; all these plants sprouting up everywhere from the seeds mixed in with the piles of rubbish this person cleared out like the end of a party’s cleaning crew cleans a party hall. Most certainly the end of the party…

Turns out (who knew) that this person is the kind of person who is only honest with you about stuff when you see this person every day – the type who isn’t bothered by being dishonest with someone when there’s little follow up contact to worry about – which is pretty hurtful and sad to me, yes…but not the end of the world as it has been feeling like more recently. I’m tired of being used and tossed away by people because they have some superiority complex that is their own baggage and has nothing to do with me.

I intend to disallow this in my future, and it won’t be easy because I get my own gratifications from the twisted and warped ideas I carry around to strengthen my own ego, ironically. I see that I am in the wrong ballgame, and need to move on to a different field. Not sure which one yet…but one without so many god damned constant reminders of so many ghosts, that’s for sure.


When you’re at IKEA, and a piece of artwork you see makes you think of none other than the High & Supreme Jenny – when EVERYTHING with you seems to use her as its reference point in perspective…

When you still aren’t driving around the truck that you told her you NEEDED TO MOVE the other day – even after your so-called epiphany in regard to her ugly character the other day…

When you’re still perfectly happy and okay with taking a birthday gift from her (which translates into “kissing and making up” in my opinion, you sold out either way), while making a statement along the lines of:

“Whatever…it didn’t change anything, doesn’t matter; but the Bitch held it out from me…”

When you allow multiple misinformed friends to talk down about me, and to continue in the warped perceptions that they’ve come to harbor of me as a result of the dishonesty of your other twisted and unstable friend – and you do not stand up for me and set them straight, despite knowing beyond the shadow of any doubt – the inaccuracy that defines each one’s opinion of me…

When you are still stupid and blind enough to be falling back in right where two specific seedy, shallow and self-absorbed individuals want you, without any genuine regard for yourself or for those who actually give a fuck about you…

When you are obviously still willing to be taken advantage of by unworthy and detrimental people, while you are satisfied and somehow not disgusted with yourself for putting such an eye-sore up on a pedestal like you have, and continue to do…

While you haven’t learned the important Life Lessons yet that will determine your lasting legacy in the Universe – while you are so easy and free with the denial of what’s bad for you, while you brush aside the REAL and TRUE…

While you are still any of these painful things, please forget that we ever met.

Ready? Round 2!

So….I guess this means you’ll be moving whenever it might best suits your own selfish needs, that’s quite obvious.

What isn’t obvious when it should be is the fact that YOU DO NOT GET TO STRONG-ARM YOUR WAY AROUND HERE anymore as it is your place of residence. It isn’t. It never really was, it was the address you chose use for your girlfriend’s stupid little useless dogs while she was in prison and you were supposed to be “taking care” of them. When, in reality, all you did was touch down once in a while to see if everything was going in a way that made you look good from the outside of things.

Men like you might be considered as “successful”; your type even gets the unwarranted word associations of “commanding” and “exceptional” amongst the others you step all over to stand out against the contrast of, never once being human or intellectual enough to stop and learn from the many painful experiences that you inflict upon those around you while on your way to “the top”. But where is “the top”? You don’t even have a clue, do you?


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I’d be willing to bet the Ranch that men like you finally make it there, covered in the blood and tears and sweat of everyone that you have used, deceived, and betrayed with your shallow nature – only to learn that “the top” is just another name for “the bottom” – somewhere filled with like-minded people just like you. How fun will that be? It will be just like the first round for you,, only this time you will be going up against others who are just as savage and uncaring as you are. Best of luck in rounds two and three, you don’t stand a chance.