It’s Me: I Got Issues pt 1

I’m not going to apologize for not being around, I really did not have much to say. Well I did have something to say, I just couldn’t formulate the right words. I guess thats a continuing problem I have; “Inability to say what’s wrong.” But I digress.

Saturday morning, I found myself unable to sleep. I was sitting at my desk watching the end of some war movie with Bruce Willis and at some point I lost all composure and cried. It wasn’t the movie that made me cried and I really can’t say why, yet.

So,I was straight up bawling’ for a minute or two. So I’m sitting there, a grown ass, six foot two, 245 pound black man crying like a big pussy.

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I’m a quiet/shy guy, always have been and probably always will be. It’s who I am. Being quiet, I tend to internalized my problems, issues or anything bad that happens to me. A fine woman tells me that she wouldn’t date me because I dark, it’s my fault. Some nigga with a fatty wouldn’t give me any play saying I was too big, again it’s my fault. I almost die at work and I don’t sue or seek damages, I get talked about like a idiot, still it’s all my fault. I let all this shit build up and say that it doesn’t bother me, which it really doesn’t. (After awhile you really do start to believe your own lies.) It gets to a point where I mentally and physically break down. The last time was in December 2001, I was pledging Sigma and moms was forcing me to pay bills I couldn’t afford on my paycheck. School was kicking my ass and I had a ulcer from the stress. Twenty-one years old and I had a fucking ulcer, I’d would wake up every morning at 3am like clockwork and be in absolute pain. So the point I couldn’t take any more I was on Pledge line with some neophyte spouting bullshit at me. I look him straight in the face and said “Step the fuck, outta my face!” I proceeded to get my things and left. The next day I told my moms that I wasn’t paying her bills anymore and crawled into bed for most of the Christmas break.

Don’t feel bad for me, because it doesn’t matter and I really don’t care. (A defense mechanism)

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I haven’t cried since my accident. I cried not because I thought I was going die. I’m not afraid of dying… but I’m afraid of not being remembered. Sometimes I get upset that I have sex with men. My mom can accept the fact that she won’t be getting any grandkids from me, but I can’t. Internalizing that I’ll never get married, I’ll never have children that I won’t be happy, that I would make my mom happy. Again it’s all my fault. I hear about all my cousins popping out kids from my mom, and I know she loves me regardless but I know she’s disappointed. Secretly I want a wife, a loving woman to be by my side be my strong moral support, my back bone. I want kids, kids that look like me, calling me “daddy” with their brown eyes and big cheeks that get from me.

I can’t have any of that. Why? Because I’m an ass-fucking faggot, an abomination and a nigger to boot. I’m twenty-four years old and I feel that I haven’t done anything worth while in my life and I broke down. This past Saturday, I cried for things I can’t have in this world, I cried because I hate an aspect of my own life, and I cried because it was all my fault.