Post by djblue on May 22, 2006 17:43:17 GMT -5
Sometimes, I wonder how I ended up the way I have. Nothing seems to be the way things should have been or the way my family wanted them to be. I'm 27 years old. . .27 f*cking years old, and all I have to show for my 27 years are two felony conviction, internal pain that has swallowed me whole, a chemical dependence to alcohol and a neer-do-well complex that has all but destroyed me. I look myself in the mirror, and I do not like what I see. I see a man, broken and beaten, an institutional man who does what he swears he won't do. Look at what you've become. . .look in the mirror!
I look in the mirror in a bathroom.
Yes, look at you. Look at your face. Look at how you've let the world beat you down. Your eyes give you away, Anthony. You language is one thing, but those eyes are something else. Hurt eyes, hungry eyes. Deep hazel eyes that are older than the 27 years they are supposed to be. You have a right to be angry. . .you don't have a right to be depressed. You have the right to be pissed off at the world. . .you don't have the right to feel sorry for yourself. You told Seth to be a man. . .you need to sack up and be a man as well.
I look away from the mirror and walk towards the door.
Do you know well things have turned out? You, back home, have a beautiful woman, a sorority sister, waiting for you, and you still haven't touched her! You have what all men would fantasize over and you don't even accept that. You own a 10 acre ranch, 5 acres of pristine forest, a Valkerie and a z28. You are set for life due to the work your parents did and you don't accept any of it. People would kill to be in your shoes. I know. . .I know. Anthony Douglas is too proud to accept this. It wasn't his. It shouldn't be his. Dammit, I know you're angry. But sometimes you need to relax and look at the big picture.
I walk into the hall, eyes to the floor.
I wonder if I deserve any of this. I'm a felon, a pariah, a loner and a social outcast. Deep down, all I am is angry. I'm not depressed. I'm not psychopathic. I'm not anything but angry. I know, up wherever they are, I know my family watches me. I know G-d has nothing to do with that. . .G-d doesn't exist. What the f*ck does G-d mean to me? But, my family is gone and G-d took them away. G-d doesn't exist. I've lived in a a private hell. All the sh*t I've piled on myself. . .all I know is this has got to stop. The time for the breakdown is over. I don't deserve to have this sh*tty existance anymore! I don't deserve anything I've dumped on myself anymore! What the hell am I doing to myself??? I don't need this sh*t anymore! I know I can turn to my family. Isabella's told me so! And in my heart they will always stay. But the son of a bitch who took them away did this to me. And all I have is hate and rage. All I have toward the world is hate and rage! All I care to feel any more is hate and rage! That son of a bitch hurt me. . .and I have to return the favor!
I stand outside a door.
Melissa's right. I need to start looking at championships and fame! I was looking for a sign that I could start forgiving myself for my guilt. Melissa was it! Melissa is my sign! Why should I tell myself that belts and championships are beneath me? Deep down, I know I want validation! Validation for the fact that I am truly alive now! That dead feeling bastard I've been for 10 G-d damn years is truly dead! Melissa killed him, and I'm glad he did. Now, all I am is what I want to be. I am the Wolverine. . .and the Wolverine shows no emotions and no regret. I was a depressed, beaten dog before. . .I am the Wolverine. It's time I live up to that G-d damn name!
Anthony knocks on a door. A short, beared man where a suit opens the door. He smiles.
"Welcome, Mr. Weinstein," the man says. "I'm Rabbi Lester Jacobson. Please, come in."
I am apprehensive. "Rabbi, it's been over 10 years since I've spoken to a Rabbi," I say.
"I understand. Please, come in. I understand you're a Jew from Arizona. Are you looking to move here?"
"No," I say. "I just want answers, Rabbi. I haven't spoken to G-d in 10 years. Even through Alcoholic Anonymous, I didn't talk to G-d.
"Come in. Do you want something to drink?"
The door closes.
I look in the mirror in a bathroom.
Yes, look at you. Look at your face. Look at how you've let the world beat you down. Your eyes give you away, Anthony. You language is one thing, but those eyes are something else. Hurt eyes, hungry eyes. Deep hazel eyes that are older than the 27 years they are supposed to be. You have a right to be angry. . .you don't have a right to be depressed. You have the right to be pissed off at the world. . .you don't have the right to feel sorry for yourself. You told Seth to be a man. . .you need to sack up and be a man as well.
I look away from the mirror and walk towards the door.
Do you know well things have turned out? You, back home, have a beautiful woman, a sorority sister, waiting for you, and you still haven't touched her! You have what all men would fantasize over and you don't even accept that. You own a 10 acre ranch, 5 acres of pristine forest, a Valkerie and a z28. You are set for life due to the work your parents did and you don't accept any of it. People would kill to be in your shoes. I know. . .I know. Anthony Douglas is too proud to accept this. It wasn't his. It shouldn't be his. Dammit, I know you're angry. But sometimes you need to relax and look at the big picture.
I walk into the hall, eyes to the floor.
I wonder if I deserve any of this. I'm a felon, a pariah, a loner and a social outcast. Deep down, all I am is angry. I'm not depressed. I'm not psychopathic. I'm not anything but angry. I know, up wherever they are, I know my family watches me. I know G-d has nothing to do with that. . .G-d doesn't exist. What the f*ck does G-d mean to me? But, my family is gone and G-d took them away. G-d doesn't exist. I've lived in a a private hell. All the sh*t I've piled on myself. . .all I know is this has got to stop. The time for the breakdown is over. I don't deserve to have this sh*tty existance anymore! I don't deserve anything I've dumped on myself anymore! What the hell am I doing to myself??? I don't need this sh*t anymore! I know I can turn to my family. Isabella's told me so! And in my heart they will always stay. But the son of a bitch who took them away did this to me. And all I have is hate and rage. All I have toward the world is hate and rage! All I care to feel any more is hate and rage! That son of a bitch hurt me. . .and I have to return the favor!
I stand outside a door.
Melissa's right. I need to start looking at championships and fame! I was looking for a sign that I could start forgiving myself for my guilt. Melissa was it! Melissa is my sign! Why should I tell myself that belts and championships are beneath me? Deep down, I know I want validation! Validation for the fact that I am truly alive now! That dead feeling bastard I've been for 10 G-d damn years is truly dead! Melissa killed him, and I'm glad he did. Now, all I am is what I want to be. I am the Wolverine. . .and the Wolverine shows no emotions and no regret. I was a depressed, beaten dog before. . .I am the Wolverine. It's time I live up to that G-d damn name!
Anthony knocks on a door. A short, beared man where a suit opens the door. He smiles.
"Welcome, Mr. Weinstein," the man says. "I'm Rabbi Lester Jacobson. Please, come in."
I am apprehensive. "Rabbi, it's been over 10 years since I've spoken to a Rabbi," I say.
"I understand. Please, come in. I understand you're a Jew from Arizona. Are you looking to move here?"
"No," I say. "I just want answers, Rabbi. I haven't spoken to G-d in 10 years. Even through Alcoholic Anonymous, I didn't talk to G-d.
"Come in. Do you want something to drink?"
The door closes.