MY LIFE IN MY OWN WORDS

The skeleton in my closet! Lord I pray for forgiveness, I pray for my shame.I have asked you many times to help me , I sometimes feel perhaps you have forgotten me or forsaken me.Judge me Lord not for what I do but for whom I have become , a person of deep and great understanding.A person with great respect to my fellow human beings. It is there in my closet, it haunts my nights and torments my days. It is responsible for the pain and anguish in my life. I loath it, I despise it. I know enough to know most of us have one but that still is no alleviation for me. This skeleton has ruined my life, it has brought me to my wretched despair I feel deformed and disfigured. I begged for help from a friend but she was not a friend, I sought out support and found there was none. I asked for medication and it did not dissipate or disperse the evil. It is disintegrating my very existence. I am feeling dangerously despondent and somewhat critical and yet I sometimes welcome it, I sometimes call for

Why is our country at war my son recently asked? We are not at war! I answered. Then instantaneously it hit me, we are at war! Funny how, unless we witness the devastations through our own blind eyes we just extricate the thought and abandon the memory. Make it dematerialize we do by simply changing the channel, which is easy for us to do. Ignore it; tune into some inane, mindless innocuous production, what ever it takes just to make it disappear. My eight year old seems to be more aware of his surroundings than I am. How can I be so benighted? Am I that bewildered? Contrarily, I am fighting my own war and have no time for any other I try to persuade myself. Yet even with my own self-inflicted ignorance, I cannot forget about the senseless butchering and slaughter of young lives. I hear it every day and yet I need to be assiduously prompted by a child to recall the atrocities’ going on in the world today and yes "fuck we are at war"! I say to my self. Then I have to ask why?

Daddy you are like Baloo and I am like Mowgly! Then he hugged me tight, as I read his favorite book. I sit here thinking, why. Why are these memories of my father reading my favorite story not real? Have I forgotten them? Will my son also forget? I am not so sure that I have forgotten .Those memories are not present simply because they do not exist .I have few memories of my child hood. Some are happy but most are sad .I remember times with friends, playing outside and feeling free. I remember times of sorrow, a drunken father a mother in tears and a house full of shattered dreams. I remember the floods, which ravaged our lives in the low-lying area, where our little rented house sat. Flooding was part of our meager existence. I remember neighbors taking me in their arms away from the dangers of the rushing water. I remember my little bunny floating on the surface of the lake. To a child that's what it was. A lake, in our back yard, transformed by the constant tears from Mother Nat

I feel angry sometimes, I sometimes feel bitter, I loath my existence . I pray for death to arrive soon. Depression, anxiety, loneliness, my only companions. Love hope and faith, they are my adversaries. The bottle, oh the bottle . If I could just, have one drink! That sweet scent! Oh, the burning, as the alcohol warms the coldness in my soul and sooths the yearning in my heart. If I could just ,have one drink! Afraid I am not, loneliness not even considered, when the bottle is at my side. That sweet, sweet aroma, men’s greatest invention for the adolescents still longing for the their mother's bosom . Just one drink, my shakes will stop my nerves will calm, my head,oh my head, my thinking, it would all would be so clear. If I could just, have one drink! The intoxicant, the catalyst to my every dream and desire. Rationality not even questioned. Will I live? Will I die? Who cares as long as the bottle is at my side! (Think twice my friend)

I witnessed my son almost having a nervous breakdown. I try to search for the right words to express how to describe his emotional state , all I have is my own life experience with this debilitating state of mind. Through the sad and heart wrenching tears that poured out of this little child’s eyes all I could do to try and console him was to hold him tight tighter than I ever have in our lives together. I could feel the gentle and warm teardrops running down my face as our cheeks were pressed against one another. All I could say was Buddy I am sorry. Why Daddy, why is my life so hard? Can you imagine this from your child? Why does everyone seem to annoy me these days? Why are my parents not together? this question brought about a deeper sense of frustration from him and generated waterfalls of emotions .Why does everyone around me yell all the time Daddy you and Jack and Marianne( my brother and his family) and my little cousins are the only ones that don’t. Why does my mother’s famil

Sometimes life teaches you a hard lesson. You can work all your life to achieve a comfortable standard of living , to achieve a certain level of success!, and in a blink of an eye poof! it's all gone. How do you measure success?.Well, I think success can only be measured when you are at a point in your life when everything you need is exactly everything you have! Success means accomplishment, and accomplishment means, Triumph! Now I am sure we all have different goals and accomplishments we have yet to achieve.We all have a different way of measuring our level of success.During a conversation I had with my Dad recently,trough tears he told me that my Mom was heart broken when she heard I had gone to the the Good Will to purchase some well needed clothing.After all I lost 40 lbs this past year and frankly nothing fits, but sadly I am a bit cash strapped and so I went shopping at the Good will. Shame never crossed my mind. I hope someday people can see beyond what is in front of thei

For the first time in my life, I find myself truly alone. No friends no companion and my family have never been so distant. I look around and I have come to the sad realization that I have no one to depend on. This morning while reflecting on this sorrow, I decided to go for a walk. A leisurely stroll through some woods a hike if you will. There was only one other car in the park lot, the woods were dense with the dry upheaval of winter. No greenery insight, not a single leaf, or any signs of any other life, not even a sound. Spring is in the air the sun brightly shone through some of the forest decay. However, the harshness of the brutality that is our winter was all around me. Frankly, I found it soothing but frightful at the same time. It seemed Mother Nature had not yet found the time to graze this masterpiece with the gentle strokes of her artist’s brush. Alone I walked, I was glad to be alone, yet hoping to find someone else in this desolate place. Out of the corner of my right e

Have a good trip! That is what I would say, I f I could .If I could speak to you one last time. If I was able to speak with out fear, without fear, that every conversation may be our last. I know you will enjoy this trip tremendously. I wish to God that I were heading there with you. To that enchanting and magical place. The place you and I shared a few years back. Burnt, in my deepest memory, as if it was only yesterday. For how can anyone of sound mind forget such place? I once had a dream; I dreamt that you and I were there again. Only in my dream we were not merely be tourists .In my dream we did not travel as two. In my dream, we traveled as one entity. However, like most dreams, I must wake from them , to face the cruel reality that a dream is nothing but an unfulfilled illusion that my mind contoured up to fill my empty and lonely nights or maybe just to torment my hearts. This dream was obviously not meant to be! Now you are now headed there without me, headed to this magical l

"A bag full of cuddlies" Daddy, Mommy said I should let you know that she has a bag full of cuddlies she wants you to take home. (That is what he calls his stuffed toys). Cuddlies, he has called them that, since he took his first step towards one. Another bag, I said. Yes, she wants you to know it will be outside the door, when you drop me off tonight. This is a constant process repeated several times a year. However, what can I do, every time he asks if he can bring one home for the night? This one is my favorite and he helps me go to sleep, this other one keeps the other company and this one, well you get the picture. They all are his favorite. Nevertheless, what is a father to do? You have this little boy growing up so fast right before your very eyes. You know, I can still remember the day he was born. After that incredible experience I had in the delivery room, I could not look at him without shedding a tear. Every single time for at least a week until he was able to be

I dreamed I could fly. I was soaring above the clouds. My right hand felt the comfort of your warm supple skin. My hand tight around yours, I held you secure, not for the fear of you falling but for fear of the loss. Therefore, we flew; we flew over the mountains and over the sea. We saw the beauty that the heavens have seen. The grass was green and the oceans were blue. Beauty all round us, a fine mist covered our bodies. I did not fear, for fear was not at our side. Fear is below us, in the lonely and desolate grounds we once walked upon, now we fly. Eternity it seems no longer a dream. Perpetuity seemed ever more a possibility. I wanted this dream to never end. The peacefulness and serenity, the allegiance I felt from you, the devotion and admiration I saw in your eyes I immediately cherished. Therefore, we flew not a word spoken for our eyes said it all. The expression in your bright childlike eyes spoke with eloquence. Your lips did not move and yet your persuasiveness to continue

Fathers 4 justice Please take a moment that is all I ask after you read my writings, to look at their web site.Two weeks ago while reading my local periodical, I notice a small write-up about an organization called fathers for justice. I decided to do some research. This civil rights movement was started in the UK several years back .A desperate and loving father ,fought for his God given rights , just to be that a" FATHER". He managed with a great deal of support and a tremendous amount of tenacity and will for the love of his children. To change several archaic laws, that have been in the books, for generations .I immediately called, since the article mentioned there was a new chapter starting in my area. I was floored, to say the least. If you have read all my entries, you may already know how passionate I am about my son. I immediately went to the meeting the following day and I am now a full member. Today I braved the cold and rain; I stood for more than two hours at the

My family tree. My family tree bares no fruit. It will not flower. It is rampant with rage and hostility. Overcome with health issues and by depression. Anxiety a part of our Existence. Jealousy and envy feeds it, it grows bitter. A cloud blocks the light .I feel the distance from branch to branch .The flowers are few , the fruit never come , I patiently wait and it never changes .The shame , what some would give for a family. My family is broken, without repair. The years are passing the roots are decaying. My tree is not healthy, I wish I could save what is left of it .I fear it is too late. I have done what had to be done and no changes were obvious. I spoke to my tree .There was no response. It is beyond reach and unable to care. My family has given me joy, heartache, love, sadness, togetherness and loneliness. My tree what can I do? I am only one, am I the only one the sees it slowly dying? Does no one care? Are they so ignorant to believe this tree is as healthy as any other is?

I write because I have to.It burns in my core , my soul cries out for the release , my head full of thoughts. I write again because I have no choice.The line between sanity and insanity is a very thin and delicate one.One must trust one's inner voice. My inner voice commands me to write. I thank you for allowing me to. God Bless!

Darkens falls, sleep does not arrive. I reach for the aid of men’s medicinal remedies. A bandage for the cruelness of the night. They no longer accomplish their efficiency. The sleepless nights, I lay awake. I toss I turn, what were once dreams are now replaced by terror. I fear light and the uncertainties that it will summon. When did it all begin? When will it all end? Six feet under I feel will be of little solace for my soul and the pain. Life frightens me, but death I fear the same .The present is now, the future beyond reach .The past not far behind .Change I cannot make. Accomplishments beyond reach. I fear the unknown and frightened to move forward, I stand frozen in the shadows of fear. The truth I know, but why do they not see, they also must be witnesses .I shall make them aware, I defiantly convince my self foolishly. I coward, I run I hide. Loneliness is but a state of mind. I try to convince my self. Alone and not able to accept loneliness. However, a fool I am not. Nev

Space, the void between one place and another. . Without space, there is no room to breath. Without space, there is no room to think. Without space, there is no room to grow. Without space, I simply cannot live. This is not only an observation; it is my own life experience. With the constraining hands of time and the fortitude of this challenging life that surrounds my meager existence, every breath I gasp for, becomes questionable .I can no longer breathe. I ask myself why I am in this struggle. Why am I fighting a battle that surely will result in nothing but carnage? The Bible speaks of justifiable wars. How can an act of man, which results in the slaughter of its own kind, be justifiable? I am a man, and I am at war. I am at war, with myself. I am at war with the life that surrounds me. Is my war justifiable? I did not petition, nor beseech for this life. Brought upon this world, by the forces of nature. Why then am I fighting this battle with no army? I am no David, but life is ce

I can no longer write, I am constantly disappointed with my life and the people in it.Everyday I wake up I wonder , why? why did I wake up? This shall be my last entry .Thank you and good bye.......

As requested by Anonymous .Here is one I made for my son.

I remember it well; it was the changing of seasons. It had not been particularly an unusual winter. Just like every other winter here, but something just didn't feel right.It was near the end of winter and the beginning of spring.At times warm enough that it was hard just stepping out of the front door of my house to my front porch, without breaking into a sudden sweat. My clothes heavy with the wetness of humidity clinging to my body . And yet I knew the impromptu days of winter were far from over, with my winter gear ready by the front hall closet I was ready for anything that this crazy life can bring upon us without hesitation.I knew this was not going to be a time that I would soon forget.Things can change, in a split second and we have to prepare ourselves for anything that life can throw at us. Life it self is unpredictable , your day can turn to nigh at a blink of an eye.The climate, can be as unpredictable, as the lives we live, as I was about to discover one fateful day n

I was born in a small country in South America. My family was very poor, not that everyone that lives there is. Although it is a third world country there is still a tremendous amount of wealth.It is actually a very nice country , from what I can remember and seen in photographs. I have a great deal of family members living there still , my parents visit from time to time , not as often as they would enjoy but simply when ever they can afford to.Some of my relatives are very well off, some have always been and some are still to this day extremely poor. This caused for allot of heart ache and confusion for my sister and I.Since our parents were so poor and we never had anything, watching our friends and cousins get everything they ever wanted for Christmas and Birthdays, and we had nothing!My Mom and Dad worked very hard, from what I remember they worked day and night just to put food on our table. There is allot of my child hood that I don't remember about.Or as my sister has point

Please feel free to leave a comment. If any of the stories I write touch you in any way, please tell me how you feel. Even to criticise. There is no such thing as bad criticism. To me it's all constructive and it only inspires me to write even more. So take a few minutes and tell me how you feel about what you have read. Thank you ......Daniel...

Ciao Bello she said, as I sat there waiting for the eminent dial tone. I took my time replacing the receiver to its base, but the end was here and it hit me like a tone off lead .The call was over, the idea was over the dreams we shared were over. The future plans we made were nothing, more, than just an illusive dream. The tone still rings in my ear; the sadness in my heart worsens to point of agony. Why do we keep doing this to ourselves, I gently asked her? Why do you keep scraping at the wound and eroding any possibility of any alleviation? “I don’t know” she answered... Those questions will for ever remain unanswered. We talked for what seemed hours, we always do, men, we can both ramble on (I laugh when I think about it).I loved and I will miss our long conversations. We would sit up late at night sipping on a fine glass of our favorite wine a Red Shiraz , Carly Simon playing in the background, we seemed so perfect at times, maybe too perfect I guess. We were not like other coupl

I tried to ignore it , I figured it was just a skin rash or something of that nature. I am right handed so it was impossible to ignore , with every movement of my hand I could not escape the inevitable realization . I had to look it up , could it be? is it?(it can't be). I googled it and the results lead me to over seven million answers. Face it ,your getting old ,like it or not, I told my self. My first age spot! Now I am thinking it seems more than ever, about my life ,my past, my future, but most importantly my life now as I am living it.You can't change the past , we've established that already .There is no way of knowing what the future holds for us. Our present lives and how we live it will determine what our future will hold. Unfortunately there is no way of knowing how or what we should do different, to assure us a healthy and promising future.So what do we do, we can't change the past, we don't know what the future holds, and we don't have a clue what t

Hello buddy, it's Daddy calling happy Easter, I love you can't wait to see you on Wednesday, bye bye! That was the message I left my son this morning on his Mom's answering machine.She never picks up when I call, why ? Not more than two minutes go by and I get a call, hello ? Hi Daddy, Happy Easter ! he says excitedly.Wow I just left you a message , you did? he asked. Yes about two minutes ago, no matter I say ,happy Easter!. Daddy did the Easter bunny come by your house? . Of course he did he came by and left you a little something. Daddy , I had an Easter egg hunt today! you did? where did you go?I asked. no where , we had one here, I was puzzled . I suppose Mom must have had an epiphany ,she was never the type to do anything festive or anything that required any amount of effort.Maybe I was wrong , maybe some people can change. No! I don't believe that for one second. An Easter egg hunt?Good for you buddy , did you have fun? yes and we are coloring Easter eggs and I

The following words are found in the Dictionary to explain "loneliness". 1.affected with, characterized by, or causing a depressing feeling of being alone; lonesome. 2. destitute of sympathetic or friendly companionship, intercourse, support, etc.: a lonely exile. 3. Lone; solitary; without company; companion less. 4. remote from places of human habitation; desolate; unfrequented; bleak: a lonely road. 5. Standing apart; isolated: a lonely tower The greatest killer in North America has become, the crippling of our society. Our society is being crippled by ignorance.Lets take a look at "Depression." It is estimated that 95% of all suicides are committed at the height of a bout with depression. And yet, while most professionals would not dare to admit or suggest that Depression is in fact a national epidemic. I believe it is crippling our fellow human beings. Is it ignorance , or reluctance? . What ever it is few are willing to acknowledge a problem to which there is