PTSD Caused by a number of things, some people have it and don't even know it.
Like my old man, or my mother or until recently me.
Drill-bit into your head
Raising your child with an iron fist.
Teaching them a lesson.
Put you in your place.
Call it what you want
we make each other what we are
but lost the manual somewhere along the way.
We don't own anyone but ourselves.
People who go around telling me what I should do to my body
or what needs to be done to my body has control problems.
I see them as insecure people who are not at peace with themselves so to
avoid that they control others to feel as if they are at peace.
This shit is getting old. Real old.
One issue I'm pissed off about right now, is rape.
I read something a guy wrote on this forum awhile back and it burrowed into my head like a worm
and then it propagated in the masses and then those masses of worms died and festered and then fermented and now here I am saying what I should have said in response in the first damn place.
"The mistakes someone makes in their own life, does not give you the right to blame them or shame them. Get a life of your own and worry about it.
WE are not above or below ANYONE.
Their actions will inevitably come back to them off their own accord in their own time. Lies are always revealed.
If you make yourself the judge of them then that means you must be without fault in your OWN life.
(Don't lie like a bitch and say you're without any wrong doing.)
Making an excuse to harm a person, only shows the actions you wish you could take but cannot because it' snot allowed in your society. However, if people agree with you, you then feel justified to take action.
If everyone agrees with you, then you can have some peace of mind, can't you?
That the majority agrees with you, doesn't make the deed right. It just means you won't be stopped.
Remembered sanctioned slavery/ genocide of people. The majority with the power felt justified in their actions but later it's realized as being wrong.
Are you so trapped in your little brain that you cannot see the suffering of others?
Causing pain or harm to someone who has done nothing to you, is alarming.
Saying someone should be fined or jailed for blackmail or bribery is one thing, but promoting sexual assault and murder is promoting violent crime.
Words plants seeds of thought, and take root and spread.
Remember every little word that was said to you as a child that left it's marks until adulthood.
How can you spew such cruel words and not think that it will transform eventually into an actual act in the future?
Then gathering like minded people who agree creates mass thought, and that overpowers most situations.
It creates a force that is hard to stop. Once the sheep go on a rampage.
Sick minded individuals wish for rape.
People who lack sexual experience ad have never been raped.
Or those who have but see it as just another way to get pay back for what happened to them
have no respect care or trust for themselves or for those around them.
Seeing people promoting rape in a romantic setting really seem to have no clue as to what it feels like.
People who are self-centered, pathetic and insecure promote harm to others.
This is who you are justifying by this way of thinking you're saying that you think it is justifiable to treat someone, anyone who you see fit to deserve it, like a blow up doll.
So then by default, your mother, sister , wife, and daughter are all up for grabs ?Yet you think it's equal judgement for men and women?
SO then you, your father, brother or son are also up for grabs should they violate someones sense of moral codes.
How dare they sell themselves out just to get ahead. They get what's cumming to them.
How does this make any sense?
Where's your compassion or understanding?
People who use their bodies as a means to gain something have their own right to do so if they wish to.
Men get pissed off at women who sleep with many men or use sex to get ahead, but where's the threats towards men who do the same thing?
If she is a "whore" then so are you good sir.
Or are you just bitter because she is sexually liberated and your still jerking off behind a computer screen?
These people who promote harm and rape sound bitter and lonely with no love in their life.
No compassion, only desire to hurt someone because they want to feel a sense of dominance when they feel like dick-less bitches.
There's no honor.
No respect in this mentality."
But as Kurt Cobain once said "All we know is all we are."
Remaining bitter and ignorant is all you will ever be if you can't let go and move on with your life.
Everything you say and do matters.
Everything has a cause and effect.
Will you really continue the circle of pain?
Or will you fight to be stronger than those who hurt you and learn to love.
It's the hardest thing in this world to do, to find.
All your life is everything you do and say to those around you and to yourself...(too much Pink Floyd sorry)
Look in the mirror first.
Open your fucking eyes before it's too late.
It's a great thing to have children, right?
Then why do so many parents bitch about it?
Why do they blame their children for their own mistakes in life?
So many adults I know seem bitter and frustrated with the little people they have created.
Is it because they no longer can live their own life but instead have responsibility?
The child becomes a reflection of the parent.
People seem to be entitled to the right to make children but then they don't respect the child they create.
Children become lesser than adults.
Sit still be quiet.
Don't ask questions.
Do as I say but not as I do.
Children become play things for adults.
They become adults dream-fulfillers
In the end they create what? Another confused and disgruntled human being who doesn't respect the people around them because their parents didn't respect them?
I grew up with a mother who suffers from bi-polar swings and has slight schizophrenia.
As a chld though, her word was truth.
Her world was real. Her world became my reality.
The older I got the more I started to notice the holes in her plot.
I thought she was just being a bitch or spiteful.
I tried and tried to reason with her. I became frustrated and angry with her.
It took me until recently to accept that she was mentally ill.
I didn't want to say it, it seemed like a cop-out.
I wanted her to understand what she had done to me as a child and continues to do now.
That won't ever happen. She lives in a world where there is a logical explanation for every illogical thought that I point out in her mind. She refuses to seek medical attention because she sees herself as a child of God. Being as such, she cannot possibly have anything wrong with her. She is perfect in every way. If there is an issue it isn't her, it's demons. Demons of course can be prayed away.
She cannot trust anyone or anything mostly because she believes that Satan can work through anyone or thing even her 8 year-old child.
FBI is tapping her phones and following her, She duck tapes the vents
Thinks there's an implant in the back of her neck.
ALIENS - I believe in them too but I don't fear them...yet.
SATAN- a.k.a White Devil
Fear and paranoia rule her world.
For 15 years they ruled mine.
I've spent the last ten years of my life repairing my own mental damage. I had to unlearn everything she taught me. I had to learn to get rid of her voice in my head that tore me down for simply being alive.
But can I truly blame it on sickness?
I suppose the first step was admitting that something was wrong.
Admitting and not being ashamed.
Shame of mental issues is so high in America and even more so in Japan (where I live now).
People don't talk about negativity. People keep a lot of themselves locked away.
I think the problem with not talking about experiences is that other people won't learn and have a chance to heal and change their situation too.
People aren't alone. There's always someone out there who has gone through shit or will go through shit the same or worse than you.
We all get changed by it in different ways but there is no shame in it.
Because we can all change ourselves if we try.
People might think what they want about you but we can't let people define our lives like that.
If we do, then we give up our freedom of self.
So that is what I have forced myself to stop being afraid of, myself and what others think.
I've been reading books and listening to other peoples stories.
I've been looking inside myself to see the issues at hand and finding ways to better myself.
If there's anything I have learned from watching my mothers self-destruction
is that living a lie in order to please the world around you will only make you ill inside.
Just be honest and move on.
I suppose that is why I am starting to change what I write about in general.
As an adolescent I wrote a lot of fantasy but lately I find that I cannot return to those worlds.
I'm haunted by the ghosts around me.
The people I see on the trains with looks of despair and anguish.
What are we trying to escape from?
Why can't we try to better this world we're in now rather than escape into an ideal world?
I'm learning to find my voice again and I find that doing so isn't easy.
This whole thread reminded me of when I was 6 years old and I didn't see the difference in people. I didn't see race or even notice that skin color meant 'race'. I grew up with friends from China, the Philippines, Black Americans, White Americans, Mexican-Americans.
Then one day, I was told for the first time that I was "black" and I had to figure out what that meant. I had to learn my culture and embrace it. I had to be it and fight for it. I turned into an angry black person. I thought everyone hated blacks. My mother and the culture I was in had successfully passed down its PTSD to me.
I was paranoid, afraid and stuck to my 'own' kind.
Then at 15 I moved to a new city and all the blacks there saw me as more "white" than black. I was excluded in some cultural things within the new neighborhood. I've even had my own mother use the race card on me. "You'll never understand what it means to be black, really black." I've had my grandfather curse me out. Calling me a "half-white motherfucker." In my life blacks brought up race with me more than whites did. I grew up hating that I was half-white. I felt dirty and ugly. On the flip side I also hated that I was black because it was after all the reason that other people thought I was unattractive also. At least that is what I was raised to believe.
Then I move to Japan and suddenly I'm (me). Then randomly depending on the gender they think I am, I'm Beyonce or Micheal Jackson. Because we all look a like right?
Depending on my clothes and make-up I look like the Crow to some people. But many people didn't even see me as black they just saw me as American. The whole race issues stopped being an issue at all. I saw people in Japan who were almost twice as dark as I am. I saw Japanese people with natural afros. I know a guy who seriously looks like Jimi Hendrix. It was like everything I had been raised to say was only for blacks was thrown out the window. People are stuck in the same world day in and day out and don't realize that humans are humans. We just create these stupid ideals but in reality it doesn't mean it's the best or the only option for you.
I've stopped trying to prove myself as anything because it was too much of a mind-fuck gone wrong to do so.
In the end I'm me. The sad problem that people have is when they try to fit themselves into being a race or a culture in the first place. I tried as hard as I could to be "black" but in reality that was something that was created by people who felt that something was missing in their own lives. They felt that their culture was being erased and controlled. In a desperate and some what violent attempt to re-claim who they felt they should be they forced themselves into living up to ideals that in reality don't apply. For example in some communities you're not black if you don't like hip-hop. Well does that mean my mother who is 60 isn't black because she listened to the Beatles in the 1960's, or my grandfather who is 90 and listens to fucking swing music like Count Basie, isn't black?
It's ridiculous and stupid standards to place on somebody.
To be human is to have an imagination and create who you want to be.
I look at the American black culture of the 1920's and 30's and think my god,Where did all the artists go? The dancers and free spirits? When did religion and the need to be BLACK come in and destroy our individuality as people in America? Telling us what to listen to, whom to love, what to wear, what to eat, how to dance etc. It's oppressive shit.
Writing about people though does take time, a lot of self reflection into your own personality and research. Who do you want your character to be? How do you want people to see and perceive that person in your story? Do they live in a racist environment where race is important or in a place where no one gives two shits?
Are people all about love and peace or is about war and oppression?
Is it religiously stifling or full of people who could cares less about those things?
I think that it really changes how a person will perceive their own skin color and the color of others. I never thought about being a skin color until I was told to care about it. Then I was told to be ashamed of it. Then I was told to hate other people for their individuality. In retro-spec, I see it as jealously and ignorance. People dislike themselves so much they need to vent their anger on the world around them.
They need to blame somebody for their own unhappiness. In reality it's just their own choices in life and frame of mind that keeps them under lock and key.
People complain that there isn't enough minorities being portrayed in stories. Some authors complain that they don't include certain races because they don't want to do an injustice to that certain group of people. All I can say is, if you don't like something, don't read it or watch it. If you think it could be better, then make something with your own fucking hands. Then complain to the networks and tell them to show your shit instead.
In the end all I can do is read about or talk to the people whom I want to write about. Sadly if it's about a culture I was not raised in or a time period in which I have no one to talk to about, it does get really difficult. I think that's when fantasy comes in handy as a genre.
If people don't like what you write then that isn't your problem. You can't please everyone. Trying to please everyone will just set you up for failure.
Remembering that is the hard part though...
Don't ask me what I did two days ago, I wouldn't even recall being alive.
Why aren't you writing?
Why does anything I write even matter?
Isn't it all repeated garbage in the end?
When I don't write, I don't live.
Simply put, I must write.
ramblings grammatically correct or incoherent jive.
Why am I erasing my own existence?
Apathy is dangerous...
Worse it only hurts the ones I love.
My own words mean little to myself now.
Fear is dangerous...
What was I doing?
What did you say?
I sit in a room full of people, satisfied enough to be near living things.
I enjoy watching and listening.
Sadly daydreaming with people around seems to cause them to feel like they don't exist.
When did my opinion start to matter to others?
When did my presence start to matter so much?
I am there but not there.
Am I the ghost or are they?
Am I selfishly lost in my own world?
Even in a land built off of the belief of gods and Buddha, not many people actually believe in it in Japan. Still, I can talk about it without getting a violent response. No one attempts to expel Satan out of me. Also no one attempts to put me in the loony bin either. This is much appreciated.
I was raised as a Bible-thumping God-fearing Christian.
So of course I ignored all my dreams as a child.
I paid no attention to the signs or memories of my past lives.
There was only one life. It was this one. I thoroughly believed that after I died, I would either go to Heaven or Hell and spend eternity in one of them. Jesus allowing, it would be Heaven.
(my fear of Hell was borderline psychotic.) Glad I saw the light. I no longer fear death.
And funnily enough, I no longer wish to die either. For once I am happy to be alive. Even though now to Christian standards I am damned. Go figure.
Yet things change.
If we allow ourselves, we too can change.
I went from believing that I knew everything, to understanding that I can truly know nothing.
All I can trust is my feelings of the world around me.
I've learned to listen to myself.
Slowly, I remembered who I was before.
Recently I visited the area where I once used to live in my past life.
I went to the area around where my bones now remains
in some dried up and long since buried river bed.
I had killed myself....
I still remember the weight of the stone and
the bitter cold winter waters that rushed over me.
Vividly I can recall bright moon shining down above me through the clear waters.
I remember the pain in my heart.
I was distraught with sorrow.
I drowned myself in a branch of the Hozugawa river in Kyoto some 400
Going back there felt like being split in two. My mind felt torn between this world
and the world I had refused to leave for many years until my Twin came to get me.
I had remained trapped in my own grief filled world. Time stood still in my eternal self-inflected pain filled world.
I stumbled around in the bamboo grove in Arashiyama for over 6 hours. I could not bring myself to leave that area. I felt as if part of me wanted to stay there forever.
I found myself walking over the same old ground, over and over again.
I kept passing by the same graveyards and temples.
My heart beat quickened my breath became labored.
I could not avoid the energy that surged through the very ground.
The air was thick with all those who had come before.
I felt as if I was being pulled back in and would not get out...
Night fell, the whispers grew louder, the faces of people passing began to blur in the greying light.
Were they really there? Was I really here?
The screams of people long since dead still pierced the air around me.
He was dead.
(Find the river)
I was in a numb daze. Panicked and fear stricken I headed for the river.
"Let it go, Delise." My spirit mother said to me.
He was right. I could not live in the past. I did not need to anymore.
I had found him again in this life. I had found them all again in this life.
My spirit mother and father and twin.
I had even met my Gemini.
Slowly, I am healing.
Slowly, I am letting go and moving on.
Separate names with a comma.