True Lies in the Between
He broke his nose with a remote control, blacking both eyes in eighth grade became "...he kicked his Dad in the balls, God knows he probably got into a fight with those bad football boys he hangs out with!"
One Christmas I openly asked him at the event, last one such just prior to final complete excommunication in my early twenties, "Why did you beat me up when I was little?"
He replied "Because I felt like it!" and resolved that the "issue" of me, in general was over. After all, what were stepdad's for?
My mother when asked says "Joel that never happened, that's your mental illness. Stop making things up!" Then she appeals to her solid footing as a nanny on the main line, and bad mouths me to my wife, whichever it was at the time. She has been married four times, and dragged me out of almost as many relationships of my own. She just doesn't get that when she bad mouths me to my in-laws, requesting conservators and power of attorney, that people look down on me. Ironic, the woman hasn't ever been civil, unless you count the suits she evaded keeping me in poverty.
It created the current situation. My wife loves me, but her family deals with the brunt of all that too, so it spreads to the surrounding community hoards of stigma. I can't even sit at a bus bench with out my in laws immature pot - head clients driving by and winging King size cups of ice at my head at 35mph.
When I was in High School, I endured "Kill Phaggot X" posters hung everywhere which I forcibly ignored. Now A.I. handles that business, so at mid life I have to turn my head at social media marketed slander.
At the level of violent sports I excel. I am a multiple black belt skilled trainer myself. I am heading a recent career stunted registration as head of the "Ozenoz MMA" Tournament Team. At junior high level I commanded our summer league Up State Divisional Lacrosse to team to a winning assist as starting face off midi in the over time flip. I myself did a double mid - air at contact with three of The Adirondack Team on a loose ball scramble. Narrowly avoided scrum.
Whose fault is all of this? Nobody knows it but me, myself and my own army. Of course I get plenty of backhanded sympathy, uneven tolerance, and even gibberish squabbling over whether I know physics, or math, or liguistics. Heavy headed and heartily handed out libel is never in the lack around the table. What can I say, but, yes please do take popular opinion and slam me with the rest.
Heart in hands, I made my way to the bus depot. My table being full of lucky numbers, the lot was not getting another route until the morning. I charged my cell phone for the first time I had seen it since my near homocide and stretched my legs on the metal bench. There was a world of splendor in the making just staying alive. Though I could buy cigars at least to help out.
Familiar stomping grounds were in reach after three transfers and I missed my car. Weren't for the fee only and I would have a license to drive the truck Mom had offered to pay while in her name. It was feel, felt, found that way these days and she had paid my tickets, my fines, and the fees to facilitate rejuvenation of relations. But it was up to me to rely on financial success happening immediately that kept the truck in tow of another car situation gone bad.
"Yes Mom, I feel the same way. Other retarded people felt the same way too. But I found that I really am just crazy."
Hell, writing this would probably get me killed if it wasn't set up the wrong way. Living in dysfunction lends itself to dysfunction, baffling the criminal element on the inside. Especially if it's taken with inside outs. We all die by our own hands actions sooner or later, so be it. Mine will be jerking off by the smoke they blow in the outback.
Little did I realize God was putting blinders on me. I was and will for as long as I remain in this family in danger for my life. Every time I would leave to the store, a text would go out, recorded by the company but inaccurate in its message that I was to be taken out.
Years ago I had gotten in to a fight. The offer was not reciprocated, the threat was simply escalated and the strangle hold on healthy living ostracized. The cop arresting me laid it all out in front of me and said "...never go back." The truth lies in the between.
Taken with a pinch of salt I was headed out of this city. This city of fallen comrades lifted up, this place of so much history and heretic. On to the next station by the skin of my teeth. I was headed home in the sense that I now was it, for not staying myself of danger. The blind eye had an eye on the clock, sunrise shown, I boarded the bus with the rest of the dog passengers and left for my future. My new island had history by me there waiting. The chapter to come was preliminary training to right the wrongs by learning that cowardice is a daily reflection the night cannot forgive.
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