Today was a long day.
As usual, the morning starts off early with either a nightmare or sometimes a pleasant dream. Shortly after regaining my strength I say a prayer and jump right out of bed to start my new routine – 15 minutes of French. I like to listen to Youtube clips, and I usually cycle through at least 2-3 videos before moving on to the next one.
After my language practice, I go to the nearby 7-Eleven to purchase a large cup of coffee.
Today, I made an impulse purchase. I bought a Maxim magazine with cover model Hannah Ferguson. On the cover she is wearing a fish-net style dress along with black underwear; however, this was not the reason I was lured. I bought the magazine because she was handling a snake; FUCK, that’s hot! Something about the control, the way the snake coiled around her arm, it was charming. It was alluring. The purchase was not a complete waste though. When I read the article on her, I found out her parents were both Marines, and she was raised in a conservative home – another HOT quality. Truth be told the REAL reason I bought the damn magazine was because it reminded me of my Baby. Nothing, however, can match her Angel eyes.
When I got back to my apartment, I noticed James got back from Danielle’s place. Lately, the mornings with James have been rather awkward. Sometimes he’ll talk openly, and other times he keeps quiet because he knows I’ll give him a piece of my mind. I grew frustrated with him because he has everything a man could possibly want, but he still seems to be pussy-footing around. He sometimes jokes that he has Greek Disease, which is another way of saying, “I’m a man-whore, and I can’t commit because I’m insecure.” Fucking Frat Boys man, spoiled ass bitches! Anyways, after we talk, he leaves and I usually take another 10 to 20 minutes to listen to motivational videos. The videos inspire me to keep pushing hard towards my goals, and sometimes, they push me to keep on living. The last couple of nights have been hard because I have had some terrors attack me. I am reminded of the pain I have caused my Baby. I reminded of the innocence I stole from her, and this guilt and shame compels me to want to take my life. I love her so much, and I would do anything for her, but I believe she deserves better. She has been through so much shit in her life, and to think that I might have a chance is completely selfish of me. I pray for her daily. I pray that G-d would renew her strength and become twice and if not more the person I am. Whatever happens, I know G-d will bless her. There is no way a woman like that can deal with so much adversity and not receive an answer from the Lord. I imagine her being a strong leader in her house as well as among her inner circle.
Last night was, however, the last time I hope to ever come close to attempting suicide. I carry my Uncle’s (Mark) Bible, and in it are notes that he hand written talking about the importance of love, marriage and personal responsibility.
Time: 12:45a.m. – sleep now – To Be Continued…
Time: 7:30a.m. – Thursday, September 12th
*Note to self: The laptop is now in need of a new battery. The only source of power is coming from the adapted*
After reading my Uncle’s notes, I had decided to face myself boldly every night and every morning, and resist the Devil. I know now, that it is the Devil, and not G-d, that wants me to kill myself. The Lord has something planned for me and I must wait for His perfect timing.
Yesterday, when arriving to campus, I made my way to the Young Research Library to prepare for my Myth and Ritual class. I had two readings regarding the Dogon people of Africa. I skimmed through the reading because I only had a short amount of time to complete it. It was tough to stay focused because of the fact that I keep thinking about my eligibility to serve again in the military. At this point I really don’t care if they will not let me in or not. It’s either I’m fully in, serving my country, or serving time in jail for the damage I have done.
The reading had to do with traditions and rituals of the Dogon people, which in simple terms is BLACK people from Africa. The professor talked about their lifestyle, housing complex and modes of divinity. He also talked about warrior classes.
He scanned the room and stared directly at me holding his gaze for three, maybe four seconds. I stared straight back showing no fear of his authority over me.
He then went on a rant talking about his evasion of the Vietnam War – this is the second time he has spoken about this this week. He talked about his educational credits, and his involvement in the Peace Corps. I have nothing against this Professor. Honestly, I believe this Professor to be really intelligent. I rather enjoy his lectures, but I don’t like his political banter against service members. Twice he commented on the behavior and personality flaws of Marines and Soldiers.
“Soldiers are always bending over getting told what to do. They have no minds of their own, and these Marines, there the worst. You’d think they have some common sense and think rationally about life. Instead of addressing an issue, they become the problem. Instead of running from trouble, they run towards it.”
STOP – Thursday, September 12th – 8:30a.m.
Begin – Friday, September 13th – 3:30a.m.
I started to tremble. I could feel the anxiety build up in my neck. I clinched my fists because I wanted to at least feel the blood pulsating to and from my arms into my hands. There was another student sitting next to me. I could see out my periphery that she started to get uncomfortable. She shifted in her seat, and then started to lean towards me. Maybe she was slowly trying to come in and comfort me, I’m not really sure, but I could tell she was bothered. On the right side of me I could see a couple of the other students scan me with their eye-balls. I have know a couple of them from previous classes, and only a few know of my prior service in the Corps but still, I started to become paranoid again.
He went on and on about how stupid service members can be, and at this point I couldn’t hear anymore of what he was saying. I became filled with rage to the point that I started to feel sick. I had to do something fast. I felt like I was going to explode.
I got up and stormed out of there and jolted towards the bathroom.
DRY – HEAVING AGAIN – No puke, just pure air, cold shakes, and trembling.
“FUCK! Damnit. Why me?” I remember thinking.
“I should have went to Liberty. I should have stayed in. Now I gotta finish here in this hellhole.”
I stepped outside to get some fresh air. The sun was high in the sky, and the clouds at this point in the day had cleared up. It was a beautiful. Nice chill, slight winds, and when I blinked and reopened my eyes in the direction of the sun, it almost appeared like a CROSS in the middle of the sky. After a few moments of basking the sun, I realized I would have to go back to class, unfortunately, because I left my belongings there.
Walking back into the classroom was quite humiliating because of the fact that the Professor has a clear policy on when to use the restroom – only before and after. Who is this guy kidding? If I have to go to the bathroom I’m going to the bathroom.