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Mike Martin's blog
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Mike Martin avatar 12:43 AM on 10.20.2012  (server time)
Warning: Heavy Feelings [NVGR]

I feel I'm two men, trapped in the same body, both angry as hell.

I'm currently sitting at my desk, feeling ripped apart in so many directions. While I type this, there is large blue object in my peripheral vision. It's a gallon jug of Sky vodka. Never saw one so fucking big. I don't even like vodka. But it fucks me up quick. I'm pretty sure anything would fuck me up quick at this point. Alcohol hasn't passed my lips in years. Yet here this fucking bottle sits. I want to open it so god damn bad too.

Today marks a one year anniversary for me. Not for when I fell in love, or anything cool. One year ago today my best friend and father died in my arms. He suffered horribly before he went, but he went in peace at least. On my watch of course. I don't blame him. The rest of our family besides a few, are just pure shit. Real scum of the earth. Take my cousin for example; I just literally removed him from my house. He came by without calling and when I opened the door I was surprised it was him. "Hey cuz, I know what today is." You should, the man took you in and raised you as his own. "Can I borrow some money to get fucked up?" I lost my shit folks. We argued for awhile, he tried to turn it back on me, saying I was scum and had my nose stuck up in the air now days. All I could say was "Fuck you, get out." His reply? "Well does [my daughters name withheld] have any I could borrow?" My reply; "Get. Out. Now." Now, I'm 6'4" not built, but solid and have a bit of muscle. A lil gut too, but fuck you. I earned it. This bitch knows what I can do. HE'S WATCHED IT. He see's my face. "You're an asshole Mike, Paul (my Dad) would be ashamed." Go time.

This fucking bottle. I swear it's calling me. I have pineapple juice.

I'll give myself this. I didn't hit him. Just picked him up and threw him out. Slammed the fucking door on him. He texted me 3 seconds later asking why. All I said back was "Calling the cops." I feel that was the right thing to do. Hell, better than what I wanted to do. I'm still just stuffed with anger, sadness, resentment.... poison. I'm stuffed with poison and have been for awhile. Yeah, I push it all down and let out what I can, but I'm scared. Honestly fucking scared. Sure I can find happiness in day to day shit now, but I feel it spreading inside me. I want to hurt people. I want to be hurt. I want not to feel. I want to be loved and to love (not just my kids), I want fuck, I want to make... ALL THESE CONTRADICTIONS, AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

Human beings are allowed to make mistakes right? No one could hold it against me forever if I just gave in and drank, right? God I want to so bad. I'm sick of the anger and I'm sick of these tears and the loneliness....

I'm not alone though. I have two kids, who count on me every minute of every day. They don't have anyone else to count on. That just makes me want to drink all the more. I just can't get this out of my head. Oh look, a text from shithead. "You've got major Daddy issues." Bingo buddy.

It's hard losing the only person you truly trusted. The only person, who for most your life, believed in you. Your best fucking friend. Your mentor. Just gone.

I've been told I inspire people with my life story. That I'm a hero. A good man. Does a good man want to make people bleed and fuck off his responsibilities, so he can get hammered? Does a good man crave the things I crave right now? I doubt it. That's not true. I flat out call bullshit. I'm not a good man. I'm happy if someone is inspired by what I accomplished after all I've been through, but I'm no fucking hero. I'm a sad shell of a human, with no inspiration of his own and his only drive being, to make sure his kids grow up well and properly. As well and as proper as I can that is. Get them up and out and started on life and then I can descend into my hole and not have to worry about being a good example. Not having to be honest all the time or leading by example.

See that lady? I envy her. I will be joining her in about 18 years. I'm putting this bottle up until then. But once my kids are gone. It's on. For now, I'll suck it up. I'll carry on. I always have. I'm just so fucking tired of carrying and fighting on. I've tried therapy too. Ha. What a fucking joke. Sad? PILLS. Angry? PILLS. No thank you. I accept responsibility for myself and would rather face and solve my problems, than fucking mask them and lie to myself and everyone around me (I would like to say, I know there folks out there who have serious problems and need their meds, this isn't directed at you folks). That's America for you though. Refuse to accept responsibility for one's actions is the mantra now days it seems. Not for me. Oh hell no. I was raised better than that.

To sum this up. Fuck people. Most of you anyways. Fuck everything. I accept that I am a piece of shit. I will carry on and be a good Dad though. I accepted and created these responsibilities and I will see them through to their end. I love my children. I love what I've been able to do in life. I will continue to succeed and do my best. I just hate myself and the people that surround me. I will bury myself in family and work and hopefully look up to see it all over with and not have created too many more regrets. After that? Drinks on me in almost two decades. I'm gonna get hammered and beat the shit outta the first scumbag asshole I can identify. Then, I'll find the classiest, sluttiest cougar I can. She better be smart too.. Christ, I even have high standards in sluts...*sigh*. But yeah. It's going down in the future.

But for tonight, tonight I stay sober and just cry some more. Then maybe XCOM. Who knows, maybe tomorrow will find me in a better way.

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