And plastic is made of petroleum which is made of dinosaurs so plastic dinosaurs are made of real dinosaurs. Haha. What a world.
Hell is surely saturated with the self righteous believers who’ve forgotten that the power to judge isn’t theirs.
They break the laws commanded by their God/Gods, damning and condemning any who’ve chosen an alternate path.
They seem too busy passing hateful gossip and angry words to others to see that they themselves have dark and deadly souls.
They’re so focused on the imagined sins of others that they forget their own and repeat them constantly
They’re too blind to learn a lesson from the misdeeds they didn’t notice or feel themselves commit while their eyes were trained on others.
Their justifications, so well rehearsed, prohibit them from growing or moving forward toward the Nirvana they’re certain they deserve but never allow themselves to earn.
They’re so involved in their religions that they don’t see wrongdoings done. They don’t see their need for salvation feeling they’ve been adequately saved.
Going through the motions in their rituals and readings. They feel satisfied with their attendance and their memorization of man’s words.
Salvation never finds them as they refuse to walk in wisdom. Their souls will be lost to darkness as they watch the one’s they’ve damned rise into the light. What a blow to their pride that will be.
They suffer very little as ignorance truly is bliss. But life is only temporary and they will find their pain deep in the abyss of whatever Hell they believe in.
Repentance is half hearted. Kindness is barely known. Virtue is undiscovered as they boast of good deeds done with personal gain expected, never realizing their selfish nature.
Righteousness is their reputation. They make sure to tell you so. They will spend hours attempting to convince you of it as they have their hands around your throat.
The self righteous will be damned before any of the rest as they forsake their Creator daily by refusing to walk with the knowledge they have so well rehearsed.
All of the years spent memorizing the documents, supposedly knowing the meaning in the lessons, are spent in constant lies aimed directly at their Creator as they behave as if they’ve never read a word.
They use morality as a weapon or a shiny cold distraction instead of attaching it to their deeds and words as is intended in their holy book’s verse.
These souls are the most unfortunate as they won’t realize until it’s too late. Even then they’ll be so unfamiliar with true dignity and grace, they simply won’t know what to do.
They won’t have a chance to stop the descent. They’ll be utterly unprepared. Surprise and dissapointment will bludgeon their souls as they spiral downward engulfed in the pain they created for others.
They will be buried eternally in the crimes they’ve committed by harming every soul they were meant to save but instead they condemned them in trade for bolstered pride and ego and the need to feel a sense of superior intelligence in areas of life where facts can’t be applied.
I hope they feel enough satisfaction here on Earth in the time they were graciously given. I have a feeling they’ll not be given the opportunity to feel that way again when true judgement befalls them by the only one qualified to pass down the condemnation they have so frequently and fraudulently beaten their fellow man with.
I was once a quitter. Overwhelmed with anxiety and sadness, I gave up on myself constantly. I didn’t value my own life enough to fight for it. I begged God to get me out of it or to make it better. The work it would take to repair damages done seemed insurmountable so I had a tendency to give up before I had even begun. No attempt to improve was made, as I felt completely helpless and terrified.
God took care of it for me though. My Creator gave me a reason to fight in the form of innocent’s that needed guardianship and unconditional love.
At first I began to live for them only. Soon I found that life could be more than just being a mommy as I began to learn my value as they grew, proving myself capable of determination, diligence, and dutiful selflessness. I proved I was a better person than I had ever given myself credit for when He/She gave me a job I couldn’t quit.
When I was younger the pain made no sense, it just hurt. It hurt so tremendously that pain outweighed any type of pleasure and I felt as if I’d suffocate beneath it as it was a stifling and ever present, debilitating nightmare I woke with and dreamt of every day, every second of my life. I felt it would last forever, never realizing that life itself was temporary.
I am one who searches for reason. A logical explanation was nowhere to be found. I hurt myself physically to put a face on the pain inside. I tried to take my own life once or twice. But, when I was given the charge of taking care for these defenseless young souls, all became clear and my pain washed away in bits and pieces. Their birth was a baptism of sorts for me. My sins and the sins of all of the others that had stained my skin for decades detached one by one and floated away with the current in a river, fresh and clear.
I wasn’t able to quit living, even in my darkest times. I would attempt to meet my end and immediately regret it. I saved my own life a few times. I somehow knew there was more ahead of me. I somehow knew my time in this realm was not yet over. I somehow knew there was a job to do and hope for me to fulfill my purpose someday. In those indescribable inklings I found hope. Hope. It’s a powerful thing.
I think my searching for explanations for the tragedy and trauma was what kept me in such incredible pain. I needed answers and solutions and was constantly frustrated with the lack of justice and fairness. Living in that mentality kept me lost and lonely. I was living inside of the moments that tormented me, unable to move forward and heal.
I realized something when necessity for triumph found me. I realized something that changed my life.
All of the years of dwelling and depression, searching for a savior and waiting for someone to pay for what they’d done, I was allowing them to hurt me continually. What they had done had lasted only a few hours of my life in total. Once they finished, their part in the damage was done. Though their deeds were dirty, all of the years of terrible pain that followed was something I was causing myself. I was allowing my abusers to abuse me everyday, over and over again, every minute of my life by refusing to let it go.
I set myself free, not needing an explanation or repayment. I let myself live when I decided to move on.
I will never give up on myself or my life again because now I have realized my power and have gained the humility to also recognize and conquer my weaknesses, turning them into assets and character strengthening traits.
I will not quit. I may falter and I may fall, but I can’t stay down. My Higher Power sent me down this path, one that required no outside salvation. When I search for my heroes inside of my memory, the one most frequently seen is the one that appears in the mirror before me because she made the decision to gwt up and go on.
I won’t give up. It does no good. Brief rests are taken during the struggles and I see myself sitting on a log in the forest, climbing a mountain trail during those times. But the climb continues, always. I won’t lay down and die just to pass whatever pain I feel on to those who love me.
I will never give up. I will never lose hope. As long as I have the breath in my lungs and the ability to breath it, I will continue on.
I have something to say again. Oh damn. Plug your ears boys, the men are free to listen though.
Women have been taught from a young age to fight each other. There is a sick competition amongst us that I don’t agree with or understand, but I have a theory as to where it came from.
“They” saw the power in us. From the very beginning our strengths were obvious. Bearers of life and intelligent as we have always been, brawny things with testicles saw the threat of losing their place of power the moment we moved out of the cave and evolved into an age where their muscles didn’t matter.
The only way to combat our brilliance was to pit us against the only formidable force that they could find. They taught us to fight each other. They knew they couldn’t win the battle so they forced us under and turned our attentions inward, hoping we would implode and destroy ourselves. Those bastards.
So, stop it. I’ve made sense of it. The behavior is unacceptable and the reasoning is nonsense. Knock it off. Stand up for each other. Lift another woman up. Quit the catty cliques and join forces. We could rule the world.
I’m a single mother now. This is new for me. Sort of. I was prepared. I knew it was coming. Even still, I sit here, exhausted.
Three kids, one woman, and my 66 year old father. We live in a trailer. I’ve recently applied for food stamps. I’ve been a stay at home mom for 10 years so the job hunt isn’t really panning out at the moment. I’ve even applied for fast food and chain mega stores. No word.
We won’t starve due to the generosity of my daddy, my hero. We won’t be homeless either because of his kind heart. But, he’s not responsible for these kids. I am. I feel like a leech with three baby leeches attached to me just SUCKING EVERY BIT OF LIFE OUT OF THE OLD MAN’S BONES. Christ.
I have an abundance of faith helping me sleep at night and my father shares the same virtue so he walks around sharing the same smile I wear. Which is nice. I just can’t help but wonder when I see him mowing my lawn, when will he get his day of rest?
He loves helping us. He was born to serve. A United States Marine in his teens and a dedicated father throughout my life. He’s amazing. It’s his birthday tomorrow. I have nothing to give him. He won’t expect anything but I feel bad, nonetheless.
When I’m exhausted it’s become a tendency of mine to focus on the plight of others because sometimes I’m just too tired to be optimistic and focus on the good stuff. Its everywhere. It’s easy to see. It’s all around me literally screaming in my face but when my wretched soul gets weary, I have a difficult time focusing on it. It’s just easier to look at the struggles of others and feel grateful in that sense while doing whatever I can to help them rise as altruism is a state of mind most fulfilling.
And my father, he’s the closest. The nearest and dearest. Someone who has sacraficed great things and has basically been forced out of retirement to help myself and my children survive. He’d never complain. He doesn’t show any sign of pain. Much of the empathy I’ve felt for him is based on what I would feel in his situation and have surmised.
The thing most unfair for him in this situation isn’t in the work, physical labor, or financial worry. He has watched his daughter suffer, too long, too great. As a parent myself, I can tell you that sh** hurts. I would do, and have done, incredibly painful things to make sure my children won’t suffer but, sometimes we’re helpless in the struggle to keep our kids safe. Sometimes, they’re in God’s hands and it hurts like hell to turn over that control. To allow an angel to guide and guard them. To let the Creator form and mold them through pain. It hurts. It hurts like hellfire.
My entire family feels helpless. They’re so far away. Here I am, fighting for my life, and they can’t reach me. But, I believe I was meant to do this mostly on my own. I have had tremendous help and support. We’d be homeless and hungry without my father. But, for the most part, this fight is mine to wage. I’m not alone in it. The back up and support I’ve received has been life saving and some of it has rained down from God Himself.
Tomorrow is my Father’s birthday. I have nothing material to give him. So instead of material nonsense, I’ve decided to gift him with words. They’re all I have to offer, as usual.
I have always been a daddy’s girl and a tomboy. I followed him around the garage with eager ears as a child. He taught me to fix things, properly, to last and to be reliable. Most of all, he made me laugh. That has been an invaluable gift for me throughout my life, as I often found it difficult to smile from the inside.
If I had a question, and I had many, he always had an answer. Sometimes he made the answers up entirely, as I discovered when I learned to read, but with his willingness to be ready with these responses, often humorous, he showed an attentiveness and interest in my learning that created this knowledge thirsty beast I’ve always been. He never shushed me or turned me away, he always answered. He always answered with a proud smile.
He worked hard everyday and he did it for us and refused to carry stress into our home. He didn’t have the heart to punish me, rarely ever raised his voice. He was wrapped around his girl’s little fingers and he didn’t care who knew.
He loved my mother, with all his heart. For a little girl, that’s an important thing to see. He treated that amazing woman like the queen she was, every day, every way, until the day she died, he never left her side. He made it damn near impossible for my sister and I to find any man good enough for us as he treated us all so well. But, he also taught us that we didn’t need to go looking because within ourselves we would find everything we would ever need.
As a child, his life story amazed me. I couldn’t believe anyone could be that good and that strong. To briefly sum things up, as if I’m any good at that, he’s a total badass with a soft heart and selfless nature.
He left his family when he was 15. Never graduated high school, dropping out in the 9th grade, but he had to take the military intelligence test twice because he had such a high score that they thought he had cheated. He enlisted in the Marine Corps as a minor and went to Vietnam as soon as they could send him. He stayed for over 2 years in that jungle. He hasn’t said much about his time there. The veterans of that war rarely do. He came home to cruelty and dishonorable treatment, but he still went where directed as an honorable man does, battling forrest fires with his fellow soldiers. They were the only cats crazy enough to drive into the flames. Thank God for brave men like my father.
He had some wild years then. Some turbulent ones. I understand it all too completely. And his understanding of my trying times was something that kept me alive. There was real empathy there, between him and I, and it was the only thing that made me feel I wasn’t alone. It kept me from giving up when he’d tell me, “You’re strong and you’ll make it through this.” I KNEW he knew. I KNEW he felt it. I KNEW he meant what he said and even though he had to say it hundreds of times, those words, from him, never lost their meaning. His words saved my life, many times.
He has always been present. He has always been kind. He has been my biggest fan and comedian during very dark times. He’s come to my rescue every time that I’ve called, even if the best thing to do was to make me suffer my own consequences. He had, and still has, the strength to let me fall and the intelligence and knowledge to know just when to step in.
He’s my hero and the only real hero I’ll ever have because, to this little girl, he has been and will always be, the picture of exactly what a man should be. He’s been treated poorly so many times but he refuses to be unkind. He has had to endure incredible suffering but he still laughs from his belly and makes sure others smile. He’s cooked my meals and tucked me in without shame or any fear that these acts would damage his masculinity. He made sure we knew that a man’s measure isn’t in muscles, bank statements, or power. His ability to love and protect the lives he’s been charged with caring for is what really matters in the end. My Daddy, well I measure his ability to do this in the way his daughters and wife love him in return.
Love ya Dad. You’re my hero. The words “thank you” can’t express what I feel. You’ve saved many lives while you’ve lived your own with integrity and decency and you saved mine a hundred times with your kindness, encouragemnt, unfailing love, and clear example of exactly what a person should be.