Yo Youse A Real Bitch!
A... man at times I'm chilling and all is well in the world, but then there are other times like today where my inner fighter or inner thug rises within me and is ready to crack heads kick ass and take names and ask questions later. Today I've been asking what the hell is wrong with me and why am I so in my emotions and then it dawned on me I'm still pissed at you man. I'm hella pissed because I should have known better, but even more so you should have. Dude, I was fucking in 5th-grade bro! How in the fucking world did you find pleasure in bending over a 5th-grade little boy who was mentally, physically, and emotionally vulnerable and underdeveloped? How did you look at yourself the next day? How in the world did you kiss your wife? How did you hug your children? How did you get up and have the balls to crack jokes and publicly preach against the very same sin that you found private pleasure in? Yes, man for such a long time I've wanted to come after you with a vengeance to make your public reputation suffer just as much as you attempted to make mine. The truth is deep down inside I hate you, I hate you for teaching me to hate myself. I hate you for imparting all of your seeds of confusion and death into my body and life for over 8 years of the most critical times of my life. You robbed me of my innocence and childhood man and filled it with darkness as you forced yourself in my life as a brother or someone who cared who really was confused about your own sexuality and your own brokenness. The truth is I want you to hurt, and I want you to pay for not what you did to me but what it did to me. I got over the act, and at some point, over the 8 years, I took some level of responsibility of being a dog that continued to go back to the vomit I was groomed, trained and convinced to believe it was the only thing I ever was good enough for or would ever deserve. I keep telling myself call the cops, get a lawyer, but then I think about your nieve and in-denial wife and innocent children who would be left to deal with the devastation of daddy's fuck-ups. Wouldn't I be doing the same thing to them that you did to me? Reporting you would take away their sense of security, hope, and begin creating a strand of brokenness that would plague them into eternity. Repeating the culture of fatherlessness and making them statistics. This is mercy. Mercy that you or I don't deserve. This is grace, something that can not be earned or obtained by works but only given through the loving heart of our heavenly father. Man you deserve to hurt, and you deserve to burn, but for now, I'll just pray, Father, help me.
