Way too long

Like the rest of my friends and the people I know, we have blogs and blog not. *sigh* Okay so tonight I blog and I am going to put a sticky beside my computer to remind me that as the day gets on, I will blog. I will use my voice and I will blog.

For now, I found a story that I wrote a while ago, and I need to show it again, because I dunno where it came from, but here it is again.

"There is a very sad little man who sits in his home, at his computer and what he does is spend his life drinking, and trying to hurt people.
He has a girlfriend, or something, that he does not love. He has a mother that he does not love. He does not love anyone, because he is incapable of loving anyone but himself, and the sound of his own voice raised in hatred.
When he was young this angry young man went to school, and made everyone very much aware that he was a mouthy lad, and that he was in control. Or so he thought. He tried very hard to be in control. He tried very hard to show that he was not inside, a very small, very scared little boy. You see, this sad little man, was a sad little boy, who was not a victim of anyone but himself. But he tried to make the world see that he was tough, not scared. That he was angry, not afraid. He was convinced that the world would see nothing but his act and let him have the power he craved, instead of the love he needed.
As he grew up, people feared him, and he liked that. He liked the power he got from intimidation. He liked to see the fear in the eyes of the women he raped, and slapped, and beat. Those friends he wanted to keep, he punched, belittled, and humiliated right out of his life. And soon, the boy-man was lonely.
He could not understand why no one stuck around. Is it me? No, he dismissed that thought immediately. He just was not trying hard to find the right people. All through his life he kept finding the wrong people.
Finally, there came a day when he found a group of people. These people were light, and life, and he wanted more than anything to be accepted and loved by them. At first, his charm and sense of humor made him fit in. But then the anger started to get out. People started to pull away, and in vain, and in fear, he did the only thing he knew how. He lashed out again and again at the people he wanted to be with. As he did, he watched as each one turned away in fear, and disgust. One voice spoke out. Tried to show him what he was doing. How his need to control through fear was creating a place where no one wanted to be. That made him very frightened. What if the voice was right. He must shut that voice up! NO ONE must know of his fear, or think that he was not in control.
He lashed out at the voice that spoke truth to his heart. He found the person, and he hit him again and again. He called on one of his 'friends' at the bar. Help me destroy this person he cried.
His drinking buddy offered him a knife, and some more booze. He drank and drank. In an alcoholic fog he stabbed at the person with the voice.

Waking up, hours later, he ran to his friends to greet them. Only to find he was alone. Alone but for the crazed man at the bar. Drink more his friend said. It will help the loneliness. So he did. And as he did he began to see that he was right. Who needed all those weak people anyway. He had his friend, and he had his booze.

A few month's later, he heard his booze buddy was sick. He left his usual spot at the bar and in an alcoholic fog headed out to see his friend. His friend was dying. He looked at his 'friend'. And he walked back to the bar, swallowed more and more booze, to hide from the fear, to hide the pain, and because his booze was now his only friend.

Years later, when the man himself was dying, he looked around at the wreckage he lived in. He had never found the people of light and love again. They had left him. He did not care about his drinking buddy. But he was alone, he was lonely, and he was dying.

In anger he cried out to the Universe, HEAR ME!! I was a child, alone, I was angry that I was alone. I had friends but they never were good enough for me. I had women, but they were cheap sluts who left me. I found the people of light and love, and they took me into their circle, only to leave, the cheap assholes. There is not ONE person on this planet that is my equal!!!! With that, he died. Alone. Unsung. The people around him left him where he lay, and walked away. "

Written by Marion Morton

Dunno where my head was at that night!