Fucked up Family Values

Family emergencies burn away the refuse of false intent and reveal to those suffering the true colors and motives of those who once offered faux
support.

Once married, a new family is meant to formed. The stupid think that it is
so because of breeding. The selfish think it so because of breeding. The
egotistical think it so because of! Yes. Breeding. No. No you simple,
stupid fucking morons, no. A new family is forged because of the two
separate sets of strangers joined by a common thread of love.

This is not seen. Never seen. At least not by me yet, and I’ve been around
long enough to be jaded by this, amazingly, foreign notion. Family never
steps up, in my experience. There is always guilt, or inconvenience, or
chores attached to aid. In truth, I despise asking anyone for anything
because I fear their reaction. Their…tasks being held in their mind that
they believe are proportionate to the aid I ask for. It is never pleasant.
It is never quiet. It is always a big deal.

Death in my family- I man who I knew for a short time but loved died a
horrible, lingering, miserable, painful, agonizing death and I was there
with his grandkids and son. All would argue my time spent with this man could not possibly be significant merely because I didn’t know him. Like always, traditional human assumptions, traditions, and culture failed me and him and his kids. But stay I did. At times alone, listening to him waiting to die. Not me, mind you but him. Seeing is misery, knowing is pain- death was all he had left. And as I left to see him for the last time, I was made to feel guilty. I was made to feel guilt because I was neglecting my family.

Two sides of this fucked up puzzle are being jammed together, and all of
the adults embedded in this disgusting slurry of forgotten manners and
painful assumptions are making it worse by trying to give advice where it
isn’t warranted, needed, deserved, or even fucking wanted. But give their
two cents they must.

When my grandfather died, I was made, by my own parents/bosses, to close out the day and finish the deposits after they took his body off to be immolated. Why? Money. It didn’t matter, by the way, the amount of puissant money I shoved into the rotting cunt that is an American bank, but it was done, right? The morning he died, I was working and received a call to finish my task and then come and see my dead grandfather. They didn’t even wait. They didn’t even care. If they did care, I was blind to it.

As his death burned forth, my grief was stolen from me by my very family-
the one that said that we were all in this together. My grief was stolen
because it couldn’t compare to my mother’s. It couldn’t compare to my
grandmother’s. Who was tying to compare? Who was trying to win? Why did they think I was even trying to compete!? All I wanted was to feel my grief with
my family. Instead, I was forced to feel it alone.

And now when another grandfather in my life is dead, his death means less because the family business (the one established before  I married my wife) will suffer in my absence. I had to stare at my grandfather’s face after his death. It was frozen in the lingering misery that I left him in the night
before, hand clenched around his bed rail, the infection so bad in his
lungs that he couldn’t hide his pain, I had to stare at his grey waxen
face, and shuttered at his touch for my family failed to prepare me for for
just how long he was fucking dead, which was a long time. His body was
stiff, and beginning to swell. They never covered his face, and wouldn’t
let me when I expressed my distress.

The final moments of this new grandfather, the one outside my blood family but well within the new huge one created at the moment of my marriage, were lipped with guilt and unease as I try to grieve for the dead and those who he leaves behind, but I am accosted by the sensation of failure, of abandoning my family and placing my aging parents behind the wheel of a business that they don’t want and I can’t take.

All through this, my wife is barely there.

I stared at my new grandfather’s face after he died, me being the only
person in the room. His jaw fixed wide open, his eyes rolled into his skull, the repetitive, unceasing wheeze of the now useless oxygen machine, his
deathbed now stained with his lingering agony. I slept where he died for
this most recent visit.

In a full circle, the place where I work every single day of my life is the
same room my other grandfather died in- after his death, my father (who despised my grandfather) saw an opportunity to move the family business into the house. In either case my feelings were never addressed considering that I cared about both these people. When I addressed the issue, I downplayed it. I downplayed because I could.

True to form, I return to a place that now wants to hurt me because it
believes that I hurt it. This revenge, this sick familial revenge hangs
like burning tar in my stomach. Why must I be forced to do extra, or feel
poorly when I need help from the people that say they love me? It’s not
like I wouldn’t do extra without the guilt. Abuse. I would never want a
family member to feel this way, let alone my child! But this is the case
for me, and I fear for thousands upon thousands of others.

I love my family, and it makes me fucking sick when they feel they need to prove a point, teach a lesson, or give tough love from the position of settling a score.

I am an example. I am an example of what happens to a human being when they allow their surroundings and not their own person dictate how they think and feel. I am an example of modern day slavery in its perfect form, I am a mistake thrust upon this world by parents that never really got the point.

And above all this, above all the shit, I feel guilt. I feel guilt, anger,
and self loathing because even though family does terrible, horrible things
to one another, I still love them. And it’s not their fault for being as
atypical as every other bloated sack of organs on this wretched sewer we are somehow still calling a planet.

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Don’t Help

Once a mistake has been made, it is impossible to correct the ripples it made after coming in contact with an individual’s life.

Scared and lonely. Guilty. There are feelings that one can suppress, and their are feelings that one cannot indulge. In the middle, there are destructive entities that personify when we are suffering. Apply civilization to all problems, and all problems shall be solved. Apply business to all problems, and all problems shall be solved. Apply a mortal god to all problems, and all problems shall be solved.

People often help others with no concept of anything. Often, humans are so useless that our efforts to help another individual may be spurned, punished, or misdirected. Helping others is what ruins a life. An individual is seen as an incomplete person without autonomy, an individual who receives help is perceived as weak, and the individual that administers help is either a saint, or an asshole depending on which direction the fickle winds of shit-stained fate decide to blow their foul wind.

A society today is based on irreplaceable hypocrisy. It is only viable to help others when it is in direct benefit to you. That is the society that humans exist in. There is no help without a price. Those plying a free ride are liars, murders, or predators, meant to be drowned in the current of bullshit that flows from their throats. Some people who receive help forget it just as quick, and those who remember are struck down with the guilt of their dependence on someone else.

To summarize. Helping others is seen only as good when it is not bad. That is pathetic.

How often are those who ply aid plainly incorrect? I’ve taken plenty of bad advice because I was too scared to believe that I could be the architect of my own life. I’ve never made a single decision I’ve made. I’ve only done what I thought would help me survive, or just be left alone. Now there is only regret.

Regret. Guilt. Denial of repetition. Acceptance. Modification. Re-application. It is a sick wheel that those who don’t understand capitalism are trapped within. Now for all the helpful (read: useless) advice that people vomit:

“It’ll be okay.” “That IS your job.” “I’m sorry.” “That’s life!” “That’s the way it goes.” “I hope you feel better.” “That’s just how that person is.” “You gotta take a little abuse in your life.” “You’ll grow out of it.” “You’ll feel better as you grow older.” “It hurts less with age.” “Let it go!” “Snap out of it.” “Smile.” “That’s the way the world works.” “That’s the way it’s always been done.” “How’s your diet?” “Don’t lose/gain any more weight!” (but please make sure it always stays in perfect flux to avoid criticism) “There’s room to grow here!” “That’s just to start.” “Next time.” “It’ll all work out in the end.” “You don’t do that in society.” “Don’t feel that way.” “You’re stupid for feeling this way.” “Again?!”

Disconnected and useless, these phrases uttered in passing to an individual that is suffering is more insulting and hurtful than actually being ignored, which is modern society in a nutshell: apathy. Even when we care, we are apathetic, focused on our own dreams, urges, and well-being. Can we do both? Can we help others and ourselves? Or should everyone just shut the fuck up and do it themselves?

It’s not any one answer. The planet has been getting fucked up for billions of years, and now that we’ve noticed it, everyone is trying to come up with a universal answer. There isn’t one because you aren’t helping anyone because the notions invented in modern science are deemed successful based on how much money that can be made off them. Can one really think that such an old, archaic, cruel establishment can be changed with one answer? One person? I will not be the first to die in vain during the spark of pseudo-revolution. The world has enough innocent victims suffering and dying for no reason.

Modern society and humanity is built around the preservation of sick and dying things. It is all we do as a species. We repair unsafe machines that should be scrapped. We scramble to ensure that a dying business remains alive, even at the expense of our own real, tangible health; mental and otherwise. We let loved ones linger in traction while we listen to their last, horrid breaths when in fact, we should have the guts to grant them a death to be proud of. We abstain from euthanasia for our pets because the process of loss is too painful. Modern society itself is sick and dying; and humans of all shapes, sizes, and incomes are trying to breathe life into something that should be drowned in a toilet next to fresh semen stains plastered to the stall around a truck stop gloryhole. We literally kill others to keep a dying concept on life support. Here’s the thing with life support- whatever is being kept alive HAS TO DIE. HAS TO DIE. DEATH. Read it, get fucking used to it.

Death is not quick. It is not merciful. If it is quick, it is often extremely violent. A peaceful death does not exist because death isn’t in the dying; it’s the slow slide on a locked decline toward a pair of gaping black jaws in the pit of god. In all my experience with death, the dying would be better honored dead.

Want to help someone? Here’s my advice: “It’ll all work out in the end.”

 

 

 

Waiting Waiting Waiting Waiting Fucking Wating

Waiting for death is the only thing that seems like it makes any sense in a planet that is filled with nothing but ignorance and suffering. Sit and wait in an office chair, on the couch, in your car, when you are fucking, eating, or drinking. It’s always waiting, waiting, money, and death- all connected by hidden bloody sinews of human misery and misplaced trust.

Elevating the “enlightened ones” over ourselves, we foreshadow any hope, and shred confidence or spine- men and women that are not the betters but the exact opposite, they absorb the power from this planet while it rots, all the while being supported by the self anointed “regular folk,” those who carry out their duties but hope for change, but are too afraid to die for it, like me.

You’re all just as fucking stupid as you look. Clutch your little rectangle with the glowing screen. It’ll tell you who to vote for, who to hate, who to love, who to masturbate to, who to follow, who to disown. It will tell you what you need to think, what you need to do, how you need to live, what you need to be happy, what you need to eat, drink, respect, worship, trust, and betray.

Listen to the loudest voices, the ones with the most money, the best, most hopeful lies, and then react with surprise at betrayal. The common denominator is you. YOU are the moron. YOU are the victim. Hate celebrities, bankers, politicians, cops. Hate teachers, businesses, corporations, money. You’re still stupid, and those things still hold power. You’re still just…waiting for someone else to do something that fixes this planet, fixes YOUR little world. Our little world. MY. Little world.

We are waiting to die. Life here on this planet has become consumed with money and work- it is the core of all human endeavors on this planet. The concept of worth is in direct proportion to a specific metaphorical fraction that exists in a tangible sense. Death and money. Will death make money? If the answer is no, then more death is required. Did we make money from all this death? If the answer is no, well apologies all around! Sorry for the genocide.

Look at yourself. Do you hate you as much as I hate myself? Is the reason to consume pity, or is the reason because you’re slowly discovering what life as a human means; self-created, self-understood, but unaccepted in 2015-

Suffering.

Grandpa’s Pistol

An unloaded gun placed upon your forehead by your own hand grants a slice of perspective that you can take all the way to hell with you.

Potential is what’s scary. The concept of just turning it off. There is an exciting side to it, it must be said. Humans think they know everything, but one thing they can at least feign ignorance on is death. Sure, humans know that the body rots. It breaks down. Identification of the necrophages that feast upon the remains, a name? Gender, age- they can be added, calculated, surmised, addendumed and chronicled. It’s the moment between the final heartbeat and the last breath, where the body is still alive but struggling against the damage done. That moment will ever be hidden to us.

Smell the rot of a body on the road. It’s easy- humans kill things without even trying they’re so godamn useless. Roadkill in summer, a special nostalgia it carries with it. The stink is what can be remembered, but not because it is foul. It’s the confrontation of death, the confrontation of mortality n’ rot. That’s what’s special. In the beginning, it is easy to be repulsed by such odors. The odor of decay is never pleasant regardless of what is breaking down.

Pleasant, however. It can be enjoyed in a non-traditional sense. It is a reminder of death, the only consequence that humanity can understand. It is also penance- pay for your guilt by witnessing suffering and death and you too can be cleansed in the righteous pain that you yourself have inflicted. This is something good, but there is another side that is utterly hopeless through ignorance.

Why suffer? It’s a question that must be asked sooner or later. We all have reasons why we choose to avoid, or embrace suffering and self-torment. Is it just routine? A role that can be learned over time and patience? I don’t care.

Suffering is universal. From the lowliest cell to the mightiest creature, suffering is there from birth ’till death, metaphorical and tangible. Delay is inevitable. It is all mortality can ever hope for when reaching for immortality. Rot is inevitable. So is suffering. Suffering carries with it a beauty that is never seen simply because it is hidden below the misery that blinds humans to the world around them, to the world within.

Gun oil, time, dry rot, leather, wisdom, old spice, soap, an unending smile. Nostalgia creeps in even when the gun is placed against your head.

How do you picture your death? Is it beautiful? Peaceful? Is it a wish, your death? Are you the type that wishes to go without pain? I have seen death plenty of times to know that most die in agony, illness, or misery. Will you still smile when it is the final moment between your body living to your body dying? Smell the rot and see if you can still grin.

Death- the Only True Human Religion

Trapped in this wretched hole as each click of the clock shreds reason and vitality. I am sick of this place. Every moment, every accomplishment is tainted by the darkness of this world. Blood-colored glasses opposed to rose, glass shattered not full. Watching in silence, each human moving slowly through their pathetic lives, just like me. Even the rich ones. The celebrated ones, the humans who we elevate for no reason other than masturbatory aid and spite, they are just as pathetic and pointless.

Money, whether one has it or not, does not dictate the quality of ones life. The quality comes from within and without, a collective forced upon us all by the other stinking, greasy apes we share this shithole with. Ever smell humans in a crowd? Their sweat, their breath, pushing against your lips and face, the sick primitive heat pulsing below an oily sheet of weeping sores and nerves. Itchy, irritating, like a burn from human waste.

There are no humans worthy of saving. No humans worthy of anything but misery and death, the only things we fully understand and worship. Truly, death- misery can be quelled, but all of our actions stem from the terror of death. More than just instinctual, modern humans hide from it, sheltering themselves under substance, surgery and medicine- atavism, fashion, entertainment, breeding, eating, it’s all in worship to death.

It’s the only true human religion. Death. It’s something that we all understand collectively. We don’t know what happens leading up to death or what happens after, but humans constantly prepare themselves for that moment, the split second before the grave when life and death hold together before drifting apart once more. Rot. Decay.

Have you ever took in the odor of a rotting carcass on the side of the road? Bloated in the summer, black welts pushing through the pristine fur you’d still like to touch. Their guts, blood, misery- all frozen in their last moment, their dignity displayed. I envy and laugh at the dead. The reverence they receive, the reverence they don’t. Respect for life to worship death isn’t even a thought. We kill, metaphorically kill, betray, destroy. Look at what we’ve created in the name of medicine, or life. Now look what we’ve created in the name of death.

Guns, swords, bombs, poison, explosives. The filthy human can destroy the planet a thousand times over but we still hack humans open in the name of health to heal them. And heal them we do, sure. But consider the sophistication of modern weaponry when compared to medicine. We can kill anything, but we still lack cures for diseases that have been around for too long. We cannot heal anything.Humans prolong death in subconscious reverence.

Humans are death. It’s all we have. It’s all we know. Our food comes from disguised genocide, our medicine keeps you ill with false hope and health, the extension of life is merely a prayer sent to death. Please, please don’t let me die. Who are you asking? If faith is in your toolbox, how fares it against mortality? It is not faith, religion, government. None are to blame. A sentient species is only as good as its kindest, most generous members and humans cling to the skin of life far after their time has come.

Look at what humans admire and idolize. Who are cast aside, stepped on, and elevated- where is justice and hope when staring in the face of ruthless finance? This whole world is diseased- all humans worship is death, and business. They are one in the same. Every job is a killing job. The ones we love, the ones we hate. They exist not to provide for us, but to stimulate greed and to push us toward a singular ideal- work hard, save dough, get rich, live dreams. You can’t live a dream! You can only relinquish to time and hope your inadvertent and subconscious obsession and reverence of death allows you enough ignorance to enjoy the only part of death that makes sense- life.

Humans looking or asking for/about the meaning of life has missed the answer all along. Some may weave complicated metaphorical tapestries (like myself) that end up as bullshit in the face of time and reality- others choose to seek meaning in personal accomplishment, volunteerism. Other still? they seek accomplishment through murder, rape, and torture. The greater good is always good when you are a part of it, and humans have a way of ensuring that they survive so they can pass on the story of their brush with death, as well as exposing the death of others in an effort to be grateful for life. But no-one is grateful for life.

We waste it at work, in substances, in sloth. The smiles behind everyone- from the homeless wretch to the highest billionaire; our smiles and false gratitude are ways to conceal the true nature of humanity from our fellow humans, burying the instinct deep within a concept called “society”, or behaving in a “civilized” manner. Civilization is a fucking joke. We still have gladiatorial pits. Only when athletes die, it’s a mistake, accident, or tragedy; but in the same breath there are humans happy from this misery, enjoying the death of another.

The shrill words of the fundamentalist, so certain that his god is there, and wants you to die, the “wisdom” of the atheist so certain that his god doesn’t exist, the intelligence of a scientist, so certain of his work that all other concepts, facts, ideas- all illogical and useless, to be cut away from the precious time (HA!) we have. These cocksuckers are lying to themselves, and so are you.

You are a disciple of death. There is no escaping it, and the only true meaning of life is to die. There is no greater honor or disgrace than the grave. Hell. We even purchase life insurance policies to give our loved ones money after we die. Humans are wrong, awlays wrong, and we are so certain of our certainty that we are literally killing one another.

And I ask you. Do you still question the human devotion to its one god? The only religion ever to stick with any bipedal, pathetic, ignorant greaseape is death. So until the moment you achieve death, fill the void with things you enjoy. There is no being right, or wrong. No truth, no lies. You must sculpt your own life before you can even desire death.

So stop wasting time and embrace life through the concept of its end.