I can't sleep...

I put bad memories in a box and shove it to the back of my brain. It works for awhile. Then it explodes when I sleep.

It started when I was 5 years old.

I was fat. Don't know why I know I was hoarding food. 40 something years later, I still do it. I hoard food that is never eaten. I love to cook but cooking doesn't mean eating. That's wrong.

Easter Sunday and I wasn't even drunk.

I tripped over a parking barrier and I was clocked. My sister heard me hit the cement. I remember saying "I see blood." I remember my sister saying "I'm going to go get you..." and I didn't hear any thing else. I couldn't see anything and my ears were ringing. That's a UH-OH moment. I remember her taking me to the grocery store. I stayed in the car. After that I got nothing. I don't remember getting in the house, I don't remember seeing my sister leave or seeing my roommate. That's called knocked unconscious. I face planted. My brain just wasn't there after that. I'm eyeballing my Vicodin. I know it will take away the pain but in 30 minutes I'll be throwing up. I wish my body liked that drug.

Why do I have to sell all my shit?

It's in my soul to take care of some one I care about it just happens to be my roommate. However this has gone to far. Now with poverty looming he asked one question "Don't you have anything left to sell or pawn?" Horns grew through my eyeballs. Wrong question. When it comes to my shit he doesn't give a shit. When he's poor he will eventually sell his. I'm tired of people taking advantage of me. It's just not right.

Why do people hear but don't listen?

I'm getting a little sick and tired of this one. Me: So the job at the Herald Democrat didn't work out. other: You never told me about that job. Me: Yeah I did. other: No. You didn't. Me: Remember I told you it smelt old and it was locked in the 70's? other: India, now you are just lying. Me: Huh? A fight ensued from there. Interesting enough the "other" called me the next day and asked me if the Herald Democrat called me back. Are you fucking serious? I thought we had this conversation last night and it was over. No. There are two things that come with a phone call like that: 1) They apologize but they end up telling you that your wrong. 2) They start in nice and blame you in the end. There is no point in fighting. I'm wrong, your right, I concede whether I agree or not. This I've learned to do. However, they keep beating the pink elephant in the room. Me. If you keep poking at a beast they eventually fight back.

I was hanging my laundry on the line and...

out of no where a masked man said take this puppy or die! This I wish. My next door neighbor asked if I wanted one of his puppies. Pure black pitt bull with steel grey eyes. I said "No...I can't afford a puppppy oh...she's cute...no, I can't do it oh...look at the wrinkles in her face. How old is she?" Her name is Tucker and she's a two month old pain in my ass. The last thing I need is another mouth to feed but Tucker woke up my sixteen year old pitt and me too. After Ripley Passed away Sasha kind of gave up but now Me, Sasha and Tucker go for walks. I don't find animals...they find me.

I'm past the point of giving a fuck...

I went to the pawn shop to sell the last of my jewelry with my roommate. As he parked the car he said "I'm going to call my family and ask for $300 to get me back to Indiana." Fuck me...really? "All right...then go. I've fought all this way and paid your way and sold all my jewelry to keep us a float and now you are turning back?" "Yeah, India I can't live with out power, gas and water. I'd rather be homeless." "So you would rather live on the streets than live in a house with no power?" "Yes." "Cool, then take your stuff, dog and your car and leave me alone." The world froze for him. I love when I confront some one and see the wheels turning in their brain and I can hear screeching brakes. Here comes the back paddle. "India, I'm sorry." Yeah...every body is fucking sorry. I'm tired of being the man.