I got these cheeseburgers

One of my friends who moved away a while ago just found out I had cancer today. To which he did not care for my lighthearted spirit about the whole thing. Yelled at me about filling out my damn insurance paperwork he couldn't loose another friend.

We were "intimate" one time only. After years of friendship he was moving away, and we decided to have the funniest sex of both of our lives. We both had a sexual tension for years, so we were going through the McDonald's drive thru when we decided we would have a farewell fuck. Which was him doing me doggy style while eating mcdoubles he placed on my back while we hysterically laughed the whole time. So what is still a half a decade later both of our funniest stories we can still chuckle. But he wasn't happy to know I've been suffering with this cancer and not doing anything about it.

We lost a friend awhile ago. Sometimes it feels like yesterday. Nate made it adamantly clear who couldn't do that again.  He didn't appreciate I was so coy with death.

Although I did make him promise at my funeral he would tell the cheeseburger story. And to keep our texts as it was my request. He promised he would. But he made me promise I would get on taking care of myself.

I've always had a Wednesday Adam's mind frame in life. Or as my dear friend Bobby would say, my Cara Mia, my Morticia. See I didn't even see myself making it this far and when you have a death wish it's kind of hard to grasp life.

Im a recovering sex addict.  Largely impacted by my toxic relationships with men and my own lack of love upbring fueled by my impulse control from my ADHD.

3 years sober. Most people who knew me before believe this sobriety still isnt real. They tell me I'm a liar.

But those who know my change understand why I've done it and what matters most to me, my children. Growing up in a day and age where the world is fueled by sexual innuendos, and sex selling everything, my task is a rather daunting one.

For one, I've gained weight, my previous sex life was cardio. My daily exercise. It provided so much serotonin and dopamine.

And as my life crumbles around me, me waiting on some sort of miracle from God/Universe to give me my one. The one that beats the odds and defies the urge to jump ship, where in the beginning is was hard, and then easier and easier. The more life let's me down, the more I can't lie and say I just want to let down my hair and let loose.

I had a table of men at my job last week. All hitting on me, even as I've gained weight (a lot in my breast I never had before) they made me feel beautiful. And then instantly back to reality. They only wanted me for sex.

One of them expressed how hard it was to concentrate on me taking their orders because the second I walked away they all started talking about my tits.  Something old me would feel as some sort of acomishment.

My friend (against my will) gave my number to an asshat of a guy who met me at the local bar. Eye fucking me. Putting his legs on my chair. Giving me all the go ahead signals. But he was arrogent not confident and those are two completely different things. So I was most certainly not interested.

But the more chaos that happens, the more I want to free the demons of desire. To revert back to my old ways. While I question the entire human race, I am aware I am a part of it.

I'm stuck in between a rock and a hard place. I know that when I wake up in the morning, I am the one who has to look at me. I have to know my character. I look for the every lesson in every mistake.

But having cancer, alone, in pain regularly, holding on to something I think may regret not doing again, I might just need to be crazy and have the shit fucked out of me. Or smoke a blunt. Now, honestly those are abrasive statements,  1 because I've worked damn hard on my own celibacy, 2, I stopped smoking weed. Years ago.

So I need to figure out how to get these healthy levels of dopamine back in my brain before I loose all self control and turn into a romantic terrorist. 

How do people keep the charades up when there doesn't seem to be an end game?

I go to church, I volunteer, I with a purposeful attempt try to be a good human being. Why is it so damn hard to find a nice guy?

And I don't go looking.. stopped a while ago, but if friends could hook me up with non douche bag type guys that would be great.

The fundamentals of what I'm looking for.. in order...

Honest
Trustworthy
Funny
Kind
Empathetic
Hardworking
Adventurous
Forgiving

None of those things are superficial?? Why is it that complicated? They say good guys finish last, but I would beg to differ, good women do.

Is it wrong to drink a gallon of wine a day?

As my 12 year comes out to the deck, where no lie, I'm hiding from his crappy attitude. I feel my fingers pull on my facial skin including my dragging down my eyeballs.

How the fuck am I going to make it through puberty? I've figured out why God makes babies cute when they're small. It's so we appreciate every small helpless things they do. So when puberty comes, we are way less likely to drown them in bathtubs or drive off a cliff in the middle of a "My brother just told me to shut up" argument on the freeway.

I've always had a morose sense of humor. Letting people know if I ever end up on that show snapped, it was because my kids refused to fill the ice cube trays.

Why is it illegal to beat our kids again?
I'm currently dealing with a special needs force of nature because he was told to mow the lawn when I went to the grocery store.

I had to pick up medication (in crippling pain) and stuff for dinner. He left, I got home had to search for him. And when I said you're grounded for two weeks, he said, I don't care.  Well this little asshat (I can call him that he's mine) decided to steal an old cell phone of mine. With information I still currently need. Deny deny deny. What's worse is my daughter snapped a picture of him with it and he tried to lie and say she 'edited the photo'

Obviously an almost laughable offense. But now he's not even grounded upstairs where in the room he would have the phone, as well as a PlayStation and tv.

WHY CAN'T I JUST GO UPSTAIRS???!!!

Why can't I just drink a gallon of wine a day without judgment?

Dear Benga

Dear Benga,

While you think I am a monster, I think of the way you smiled and did a little shimmy when you got food. How when you smiled your cheeks looked like chipmunks. While you remember me yelling and screaming, I remember fighting for you.

Fighting for your lips to be pressed back against mine. Because God had made your mouth so perfectly and gently for my own. While I screamed I wanted you to get out of my house, what I really was yelling the whole time was I never wanted you to go away. When you say I threw things in your face that I had done for you and it made you sick, I was only yelling about how much I loved you, so with what little I had I have you. It was never meant to be boastful, and if it was only to boast on love.

And it's too late. Everything always is. Everything is always some grand lesson no one actually wants to learn. You danced when you cooked and did the dishes. You played hand clap games with my daughter and video games with my son. Even before living with us I remember you spending Zeths birthday with us at the water park. So turned on in the lazy river I had to be close to you so it wouldn't show. I remember before we lived together, the night of margaritas, that I wish we could still be drinking now. And sneaking away to kiss me so uninhibited. And the night of the nightclub. When after we were caught when we made sure you got home you invited me in. But I didn't come.

I remember while I was at work sad, heartbroken so many times, you following me around like a lost puppy. Talking with me in the barn, because you were the only one I trusted enough to open up to. And I remember all the times they went looking for you,  they said check with Melissa. Because you were by my side.

I remember right after Ashley broke your heart, taking you to the alpaca farm. Watching you feed and water them. Your soul glowing with a smile.

I remember you being a horrible messy slob. So focused on your video games nothing else in the world exsisted.  And during those times you would beg me to go get food so you didn't have to get up. And the look on your face when I did.

I remember the couple times you did Molly, driving me up a wall with euphoria. Spouting from the heavens how in love with me you were. Telling me your deepest darkest secrets. And not shutting up for 9 hours straight when I just wanted to go to sleep.

I remember believing I let you live with me so I could help you through your heartbreak. I didn't think she was an awful person, I just thought that you were really for me. I remember holding you while you cried. Not only over her those times, but every time you cried and told me how you knew I was the closest thing you knew to love and you knew you were messing it up.

I watched you beg for my forgiveness. Sobbing. Knowing you were doing me so wrong. Knowing my heart was yours.

I remember taking care of you when you were sick. Or after you broke your tooth, and fell asleep on the fourth of July at my nanas house, running out to the store to grab you anything that would help. And then remembering you inviting another girl to watch the fireworks with when you felt better.

I remember you taking these girls on dates who were good enough for you places you had taken me. To the rock where we had our first kiss. I remember you kept saying you weren't ready. To be with anyone.

Saying it while you provided for our family. Because you were our family. Saying I hadn't loved you for as long as I claimed because you were with someone else. You were wrong. I did love you all that time.

It's why I picked you up off the side of the road when you were kicked out of your house. It's why I fought with Ashley because I knew you deserved better. It's why every time I went to the grocery store, I bought the things you wanted too. It's why I did your laundry. And cleaned your room.

Even after we moved apart, I came over and cleaned your new apartment. And took your cat to the vet. And still went to the grocery store, and brought you medicine while you were sick. It's why I didn't care if you never cut your hair, or looked a hot mess. It's why I stole your t-shirts and hoodies. And even while you hated me I still bought you shoes and cleaning supplies and a garbage can.

I know every horrible thing I did. I wear them as battle scars now. Wounded for a love I wish with all my soul I didn't.

But you think I'm awful, and I'm a monster,  you told me over and over and over again. Words burnt into my fleshing still hot from the iron. They will stay there forever.

For 6 years I loved you. 6.

Bed No More

I stopped sleeping my bed months ago. That's where the rape happened. I remember trying to pretend like everything was okay after. I tried to act as normal as possible.

The worst part is I had to drive the guy home afterwards. Listening to him apologize.

For a month I hyperventalated. Panic attacks, nightmares, flashbacks, uncontrollable crying, and of course the as always grappling with my mortality.

I hadn't told anyone. So they all just thought I went crazy not sleeping for days on end. And if I did manage to sleep an hour or two after guzing down some zquill... (I hated it, it made the nightmare worse) obviously tried every natural sleep remedy,  drinking myself to sleep.

I sleep on the couch now. My daughter begs me to come back to our room. She asks questions about how it happened.  The only thing I can say is i can't. I can't sleep up there. 

And so I'm doomed to sleep restlessly on my couch forever. I wonder if there will ever be a day i won't fear a bed again.

Not all that wonder.. please a the wine

Everyone has heard the expression not all those who wonder are lost. But more so now than ever I believe maybe the ones that stand still are.

There is a line from my favorite book Jesus' Son, (and I think I know this by heart don't sue me if I don't):

The traveling salesman had fed me pills that made the linings of my veins feel scraped out. My jaw ached. I knew every raindrop by its name. I sensed everything before it happened. 

These words put a deep sense of adventure in me. Not because of the drugs, but because of the knowing. The adventure. It resonated in my soul. It made me long for the road, or even more maybe to hide in the woods.

Someone recently asked me if I could be a singer, a dancer, or a writer, what would I be?

Easily a writer. I don't want to be known by my talents, only by my words, because words are the most dangerous drug you can feel. No matter how hard you try they embed themselves in your soul. Like a cancer. And not to sound grim, but it is very much usually the world's spewing of hateful things that each of us fear.

I wouldn't want my words to be feared, but admired for the thoughts they could embrace.

I have the words 'Be The Coffee' tattooed on my left wrist. When most people see it they laugh. They take it as what I can only assume to be the energy that wakes you and keeps you going.

I love when I get them to embrace a deeper thought that what they could imagine.

I first tell them it has nothing to do with coffee. It gives them a very perplexed look upon their faces. And then I explain.

In life you have 3 choices. You can be eggs, carrots, or coffee.

Still very confused looks on their faces, I ask them these three questions.

What happens when you boil eggs? (They get hard) What happens when you boil carrots (They get soft) and then the next one they never have the immediate answer to. What happens when you boil coffee? I let them dwell only for a fraction of a second so I can unravel their brains into a different process of thinking.

The water doesn't change the coffee, the coffee changes the water.

If life (and it is) is a big boiling pot of water, do you want to let it make you hard? Soft? Or do you want to be life changing?

Almost every response comes with a dumbfounded understanding of depth.

It's a choice. One to make daily. To succumb to the world and crumble, or to use everything in you to contribute more to life than what's been given to you.

I imagine in my past lives I may of been Casanova breaking hearts, which is why in this one my heart breaks so much now.

Recently while in a very now knowing fake romance (if something's too good to be true it probably is) my Nana mocked me. Told me to be realistic. As I fought back screaming that I deserve to be loved, I deserve to be happy. And she sadly was right. It was all a lie. On their half. Not on mine. Because to be the coffee, you can't give up being who you are even when everyone else has chosen to be the eggs.

I just spoke with my daughter who thankfully inherited my genius as well as my heart, and ten times more. And I asked her if she thought I was a fool for love? She paused, and looked directly at me and said, yeah sometimes mom.

To which I posed another question...

Would you rather be a fool for money or for love? And she smiled earnestly and answered love.

I think the reason I may not win the lotto (besides not really playing) is because I would win take care of my responsibilities,  and give the rest away. I would help build wells for clean water. I would pay for poor kids school lunches. I would donate uniforms and books and I could never only think of myself. The world has a very strange way of giving money to those who think they need more cars and houses.

And mathematically speaking. We all get burried 8 ft under.

Except if you are close to me then you know my dying wishes are, to play Mr. Magoriums Wonder Emporium at my funeral and plant me to be a willow tree.

I have decided that if I didn't get love in this life, as a willow tree I could still feel the wind. And watch children play. Where young romance could hide under my long flowing branches to have first kisses, and picnics.  Where a dog could find the occasional frisbee, and children could climb me with laughter. Where I could still stand tall to witness the miracles of everyday life. Where I would know my roots.

The Call of the Void

The French call it, l’appel du vide. It's that small voice in the back of your head at the top of a mountain that screams, jump. Just do it.

They say it's a mental instability to contemplate death. I would like to disagree. I think grappling with your own mortality is your cells ways of trying to decide to continue to multiply or understand the tragedy of life and self destruct.

Suicide in nearly every religion is considered wrong. And so much so that even in Buddhism we attend our next life to relive the karmatic events of the one you give up.

I'd like to know who I beheaded in my last life to deserve this lives Karma.

I died once. It was the most phenomenal experience of my entire being. It was also self drug induced. DMT. The most illegal substance, a class C drug not even regulated for government use. But, I suppose as most things, if the government says it's wrong, there is some truth finding path to realize you don't need the government at all.

Some people say their souls shoot straight up, some say straight down. But they always say before you do it you should have a question to ask the universe.

I didn't find out about this until I was around 24. I was immediately engulfed by the idea that you could intrinsically find life and death at the same time. So by what I can only precieve as the laws of attraction, after studying it for months,  I met a stranger,  my own personal shaman,  who parted the red sea to give me my life's answers. 

My question? What am I doing here? What is my purpose? I feel as if I fail at everything and I need to know.

As this shaman gave me the directions on what to do, as if I hadn't listened to a million Joe Rogan or Terrance McKenna stories, I inhaled, and I let go.

I didn't go up, or down. I felt my soul pass straight out into the center of everything. Where I met the heart of God.

I use the world God loosely so more can understand and grasp the beauty of what I'm about to say.

God is not a man in a white robe. His heart is two spheres with an Infiniti beams around them. Each with a million octagon diamond bright beaming rainbow prismic colors. And from those two spheres came more, and more, and more, circling about in a fibonacci spiral.

After passing through black and white rotating geometric patterns that's where I landed. I knew without a doubt I was dead. But death itself is incredible. And as my councious was scared and still in awe, a being came rotating with the spheres, legs crossed and telling me, let go of your anxiety.

Soon after that the thought of my son came to me. Zeth, Zeth, Zeth, and I felt myself being pulled back through time and space, and as I got closer, it was as if time itself was rewinding. I saw my son as he was older, playing with children of his own in a living room. Until his age progressed to the current time and I was back in my body.

I have memories like dreams I don't want to give up about this place. Trying to piece it back together because I lived with no fear, no uncertainty of what life was.

We are all Gods. Where in the after life everything may be perfect,  we cannot touch one another. We do not taste, we do not smell, we only know. There are no kisses, or long goodbyes. There is no heartbreak. No desire except to reincarnate and do it again.

And the only thing better than knowing everything is knowing nothing at all. So imagine we are all the universe playing hide and go seek with itself. Because this, even in the pain is heaven here.

I often ask the cosmos to take me back home. I've tried to kill myself. Having your stomach pumped is never pretty. I used to cut myself just so I could remember I was real.

For a long time after I did DMT I wanted to do it again, failed attempts, because I tried to remember I wasn't dead that it was merely an option I wanted to experience.  I was immediately kicked out of that place. Going to someplace of nothing. Just particles. And then back to my human shell.

I remember after reattempting the universe spoke to me and told me, there is plenty of time for death, there is much less time to live.

That's when I stopped trying.

But now I'm at this place again. Where I know that we have nothing to fear in the mundane things, but they have no longer become blessings. Where I contemplate my mortality.

To wonder why my heart is so big and the universe made it so, because roughly 85% of the time I fight the urge to walk deep within the waters and take the biggest breath of my life.

I've always found it peculiar that words are the most powerful force on the face of the earth and yet most people give them no justice. Without bones they are strong enough to build lives or break kingdoms. A single sentence has the makings of eternity.

If every word you ever spoke was written on your skin, who would you be?

The Call of the void is always loud in my brain. I have had many friends commit suicide. I never think of a place of heaven or hell in such a way as it's biblically described, I imagine it's a reset button very few are brave enough to hit.

Because at the end of the day are the people who listen to the call merely cells self destructing in a place they find no way or anything worthy of multiplying for?

The more I contemplate my own more mortality, the more I realize it boils down to love. My cells always want to self destruct when it comes to the lack of love. Because love is the only place things multiply and grow.

And in the beginning

There are these trial and errors we go through in life. It's basically all of life. I'd like to sit down with God and ask him the purpose of everything.  Why not create a utopian vision of society? Why as babies learning to walk are we never afraid to get back up but loose that sense as we get older?

To look through a child's eyes everything is magical. It's a beautiful place full of adventure and wonder. At what age do we loose that innocence? Is it stolen from us at the moment of comprehensiveness? When you realize you work your lives away to buy back the products you make for someone else to get the money? Is it some traumatic event that forces you to grow faster than you should?

My first memory in life was sitting in a yellow plastic chair. The tiny kind with a scene painted on the seat. I was trying learn to whistle. I didn't give up. I kept trying and trying and trying, failing miserably until I eventually got my lips close enough together it worked.

Where's my tenacity for life like that. I don't remember being afraid that I would never be able to do it. But as an adult I feel like when it comes to the things I want the most, I'm an infant that will never walk.

Success has never meant money to me. It was always happiness. It was always love. And the older I get, the less the love I receive, the more I feel the need to be the love. But it's a purpose where I'm always walking on eggshells. I hear people say all the time to love yourself. Love yourself first. Unfortunately I believe we already live in an egosentric world where everyone loves themselves too much as is.

They put themselves first when they look at the homeless man on the corner. They think about what new pink outfit they are going to wear and less about kids in urban schools going without. They complain in our capatilistic society and everything is never enough.

I've recently dealt with Hollywood type people. It's oddly apparent that even though they have everything they could want, an air of snutiness runs their lives. As if they forgot to be human. As if they don't want to be human. They all run around flashing pictures of their idols as if they were children learning to whistle, but the real world doesn't exist outside of that.

I find it perplexing. As a person who loathes greed anyway, who is really killing our planet? Is it the people who against all odds make it to the top? Making millions of dollars? Or is it the people who keep buying into their showbiz dreams and idolize them over the people who do the things the world needs?

Example, teachers are grossly unpaid. And they provide a service for all children to basically qualify through life. They are the starting point of our dreams. They encourage, support, fund. Most of them come out of their own pockets when children go without. And yet we pay $20 a movie ticket and throw in the popcorn and candy and drink for another $35 and buy into a false reality for entertainment purposes. Millions of people at a time.

Personal accountability tells me, it's our own fault. We need to change what we view as entertainment and support those who support us.

After dealing with a few of these Hollywood type people I came to a vision, a way to support people with the big hearts still left in the world.

*Alert I'm going to use names here*
As some of you know I was recently catfished by someone pretending to be Tom Green... looking at his image, being a comedian at that you would think he was generally a nice kind guy. Even in Hollywood you would think there were nice people. My God was I wrong. I let him know someone was watching his Facebook page and setting up a messenger pretending to be him. Almost an immediate response... hey this has been happening are you still in contact with this person? (The person was actually texting me at the same moment) my response is yes, would you like the number? Yes, stop communication with them immediately. Block them.

Now at this point I've wasted a month and a half of my life talking to this person who played the role perfectly. Until he/they didnt... Not going to lie... pretty heartbroken, not that it wasn't actually Tom Green himself, but because this person knew me. We had talked about my family, and friends, and heart breaks, and trauma. I opened up. I woke up and went to bed with love sonnets.  I was told I love you a thousand times a day. And as a person who tries her hardest, despite my own circumstances to love the people of the world just because there isn't enough good people in it, it felt wonderful. Despite the stupidness. It's what women dream of. Especially because the rest of my life was crashing around me I had one good thing a day to look forward to.

And it was ripped from me. That's a lot to take in. So while I'm communicating with Mr. Green himself, I asked if I could ask him a question. He said yes.

The question I posed was this.. I was recently raped, lost everything and found out I had cancer, is the world really that full of bad People?
His response was this... I'm sorry that happened please call my manager.

This bothered me for a million reasons, one being this is a man who publicly went through cancer. No words of wisdom. Obviously way more concern for his career. Because having something like a catfish could hurt him, but it d idnt matter that I was a human and it already hurt me. It's like you could hear the dollar bills crashing around him.

So in the midst of the ground falling out from under me, this person who you would think was maybe less Hollywood than most, had no remorse. None.

As if my feelings of the situation weren't bad enough already, I instantly preferred the fake version I got of him everyday. At least that person pretended to be kind. Now my thoughts ponder should I have even told him? Should I of allowed even the fake happiness I explored to continue because at least it made me feel as if though there was still wonder in the world? Because at least I felt like I was back in my yellow plastic chair and could whistle?

The lie was a million times better than the real person. Who was cold. Unwaveringly cold. What's worse is when I sent the messages and called his manager, (best part here) he lectured me on being dumb enough to believe this.  Degrading the possibilities of love. And then had the nerve to tell me well the person you just actually spoke to on was actually Tom. Like at that point it was relivant to me as a human being.

The point was that I was human, living a real, struggling life, and I was wounded. None of that mattered. And if one of the only people you would think has more of a soul than say Tom Cruise instead, doesn't, where is the wonder in the world?

Where is everyone's humanity?