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sentenced
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Everything posted by sentenced
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How do you forget when you have a mind that remembers? How does your heart forgive when all you've known is the salty bitterness of vengeance?
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Some days you had to endure. Some days you had to take the pain. There was no where to go. Nothing you could do... ...early on, within the first six months of all this madness, he had become more vicious. One night, in particular, for some reason I angered him enough that I was a lot closer to the ceiling than any other day. Too shocked, too scared to cry or react I could only stare at him at eye level while he held tight to my throat. Long enough that I couldn't breath, I think he even knew because I watched the view of the room change chaotically before realizing I had hit the wall on the ot
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Start by saying I don't have a life. For that, I read and read a lot. Forums, wiki when the mood strikes but mainly old school books. I don't like the idea of reading from a screen like kindle or nook. Call me old fashioned, who cares. Anyway. I read a sentence in a book called "World War Z," and it was the last sentence of an interview with a well-known director (Roy Elliot). The sentence ended with him stating, "...there's a word for that kind of lie. Hope." I am learned fellow. Not very well educated, but I've been around and to this day I still can't decide on that one word: hope. The who
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Because I wasn't meant for extreme hot weather conditions, my body endures but the immunity is reduced during the night when temperatures drop. For that reason, at the end of a battle with shingles. I hate it.
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Without getting into too much detail, I confronted my past and talked with the abuser about two years ago. Breakthrough. But two years later, a few things emerged I thought was behind me and it all has to do with my mother. In fact, even after NOT talking to her, months later still seething...how to begin...this is as far as i can go. I'll come back. You have to understand, my mother and I went through complete hell the moment my father was pronounced dead after he was mortally stabbed in the back by a doped up Filipino on PCP. My father's mother (and this part is important to the story, becau
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To objectively describe your hometown is almost impossible. To make it pertinent to my story? Far reaching. Ugh. I mean it, didn't just write it..."Ugh"
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Where I grew up, how I lived and what happened when on the run is important. Born in Juneau, but didn't really reside there until I was five. From 5 to 15 I lived in my hometown; yet when I was born and the moment I reached mid-twenties, I had moved every four years of my life; either within the city, outside the town or another state - even outside the country - I had unhappily moved all my life during the formative years. But while growing up in the state's capital, I had developed a love, a fondness for the place I lived because a kid like me was the star of my own fantasy. (Cue the sudden,
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Because I'm starting again, and although I have the permission of both my mother and the abuser himself, in blogging my story and decided a name change was necessary for my benefit. To make it clear - don't respect them. Don't care. But would like to avoid any legal hassles should one occur. The abuser - "Toby" Ma' - "Lea" Sister - "Madchen" Others will change as I progress the blogging. Really think it all sucks, but whatever. Those are the three central to the story I write. Doesn't mean I don't love my mother or sister, but at times it will become clear as to why I nearl
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I can't say we lived a Rockefeller lifestyle or that we lived as happily as the Brady family. My life was chaos and temporary because we lived on the road for a few years. We lived this nomadic life where my mom was a bit of a gypsy;somehow, someway we managed to etch out a life in - of all places - Albuquerque, NM for over a year. Not really knowing until years later, my mother was a hippy and had a knack for meeting some really cool people along the way. I have a few fond memories of that time spent in SW U.S. Some of those memories were also disturbing. Life-changing, even. When I look upo
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This is why I like blogging...don't have a clue what I'm writing about. But first entry done.
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Yeah. When sequestered to a silent room and the company of a wall clock is the only companion, my mind rolls back the clock to a different time. Might even say an era. For every beginning, there is an end and for my life, the end of an era began with my grandparents. This story I unfold is as much as mine as it is theirs. I would not have been here if not for them They might have had their faults, too, but as with all people we have to dig deeper and see what good is in them. I loved them both, even now after their passing I love and miss them. If you close your eyes, if you sit very still and
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"I could have. Remember that."
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What Did You Do For You Today?
sentenced replied to SnowDragon24's topic in Public: Pretty Good Year
When I absolutely know there is no chance of putting a quarter into my past and restart the moment, I'll drive. When I've sequestered myself from other drivers, on a lonely stretch of road...I'll bellow out songs. Most often with the radio or c.d. or...whatever. In severe cases...I'll just holler. Or....and this big to admit...I'll sound off with Marine Corps cadence. Marching or otherwise (p.t. and whatnot). -
Yeah, I can't do this yet. I wanted to write in the blog today...add a new entry. Just not yet. My mind is wandering and it doesn't feel right.
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Thanks
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For those that know my style and my previous posts, I am survivor that holds nothing back. Writing my life like the way it occurred is the only way I know how to unfold this story. To write again about the events that lead me to a life of solitude, sequestering myself from the masses...it's not easy. But I will strive to unveil my life - again - through a series of blogs. For that, I am grateful - AS - but having to write it again will not be easy. I went through some hard emotions the first time around. At least on AS. There were other sites in which I tried to share my story, but to no avail
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Welcome, young padawan, for I too am eager to learn the ways of the FORCE. Come, let us embrace each other while regaling our tales of woe. I jest, but you have such strength it just seems infectious
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I don't remember where I heard this, but it has me wondering about myself lately: "It's not what you have, but what you can give"
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Right on, sister. Welcome, fellow cake-eater.
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You will die. Very slowly.