Today I sat down and took the time to really think about things. About life. About people. And toi know what? Something's become a lot plus clear to me. A lot of things, actually.

toi know, I've always been one to root for humanity, despite being kicked in the nuts par life on plus than just one, and despite being somewhat of a people's person that would go out of his way to make sure other people had a smile on their faces and could get up the suivant jour like "Bring it the fuck on life". Naturally, I'm just that person.

But during the passed couple of months I've come to realize that even the warmest of hearts can be turned into blocks of ice for other people to chisel at into its just not there anymore.

I've fought through a lot of things with my lips shut and my head held high. Loss. Depression. A broken heart. Old wounds and swords in my back. Leaking whispers from behind doors thought to be closed. Losing my job. Homelessness for a bit on a few occasions, one of those being recently thanks to this COVID bullshit(Yeah. Good fucking job America.). Bridges have been both crossed and burned, some somehow rebuilt even.

As a dude, I was raised being told to suck it the fuck up and deal with it. And so with that mentality, I have. To the best of my ability, I've sucked it all up(...no homo though). All of the backstabbing, the hypocrisy, the lying, the fake. I swept it all under a rug. All for the sake of the people around me, ou so I thought.

Funnily enough, I've come to learn that that doesn't mean jackfuck. Never has. Never will.

People expect toi to take shit, and take shit, and take some plus shit on haut, retour au début of the pile. They expect toi to endure an endless supply of toxicity and not bat an eye. To not crack under so much stress and pressure. To "turn the other cheek" at every backhand, at every mishap. To keep it all bottled up and go about your life just like that. And for a long time I have.

And then the bottle started to crack. Slowly but surely, it did. And with it, I began to find out just how sick and tired people I am. People in general. ou maybe just the people in my life, which has started to spill over.

I've come to learn that people seem to think that the things don't have consequences after they've done them for so long. After I've admittedly allowed it to some degree to go on, hoping that one jour that maybe they'll come around and that maybe, just maybe, things will be different.

Apparently that's a high hope. And high hopes are bound to lead to disappointment. Higher drops are bound to lead to faster falls, in my case. And hoping does nothing.

For some unknown reason, people expect to be able to poke at a ours with pointy and painful jabs of a sharp stick and expect it not to get pissed. Yet when the ours becomes pissed, its the bear's fault for getting sick of an issue that's been festering it and seeking to get rid of it? Because their desire to watch the ours eat some fucking berries and honey isn't met, it's the bear's fault for getting pissed? Laughable.

I've also realized that in some way, I'm somewhat naïve as fuck. And that way is believing that everyone is capable of change and doing better. That everyone has the necessary good within them no matter what kind of fucked up shit they've done(aside from the usual and way plus serious stuff of course,) even if it's been done to me. But now I've accepted that that's a crockpot of bubbling feces straight out of Satan's asshole.

Some people are hypocrites, petty and subliminal as fuck. Selfish, some to degrees that are just disgustingly obvious. Sly and ready to take advantage of the suivant display of kindness to its fullest.

I've helped a lot of people. I've donné a lot of helping hands. But how many can toi give when each time toi get back less fingers ou none? How much can toi give to those who could give less of a shit about how you're doing? How long until toi just can't give anymore, and they're up and out after their done draining toi of all the energy toi have? How many people have your back until toi can't help them out with their car note, ou a bit of their college debt, ou bail them out of jail after they did something retarded?

And each time toi expect nothing in return. But when toi really need help, everyone suddenly becomes the great fucking Houdini and masters the disappearing act. Classic.

Then there's the people who'll tell toi that suivant time things would be different. Better. They'll "make it up to you". They tell toi all the loops of how they'll make the spaghetti, make the sauce better than its ever been made and roll the meatballs anew. They'll try a new recipe this time.
And then they flip the entire plate in your face and call toi a mad lad after toi refuse to help clean up the mess made from it again.
Like an idiot, I believed these lies from people one too many times because I mistook it as truth. Because I had so much faith in my fellow human beings that I gave chances to the people who deserved them the least.

The term "Family" is just that to me now. A term. Because I've been passed the point of believing that being related par blood means a damn thing when I've been degraded, hated, and casted out par the very people that's suppose to l’amour and help toi heal. I consider the couple of people I have left to pray are as true of a friend as they seem plus so family than actual blood relatives. I've met and befriended people who've treated me plus like family than actual family. And that's a goddamn shame.

During the time that I basically had no accueil and was struggling to get back and forth from work, I've witnessed some of the grimiest, pathetic shit done to a human being from another. The homeless spat on both literally and metaphorically. Shoved aside. Looked at as if they were less than the concrete and dirt that they stood above when a lot of them didn't have a fucking choice to be where they are/were. To have to stoop to the lowest point of their goddamn dignity just to survive. Not even live. SURVIVE. People on nights colder than a fucking freezer having to use liquor that they managed to save up change for to stay warm and not have to suffer as much from 48-63 degree weather, sometimes even colder than that.

Ever tried to make a single loaf of pain and can of hashbrowns stretch for three and a half weeks while your deadshit broke and hoping toi don't get your shit taken while you're asleep? I have.
But toi want to know what's even worse? Having "friends" that are aware of the situation and stuff their faces like animaux while toi sit par in silence not wanting to ask anyone for anything out of embarrassment after already being shunned for your predicament par the same people you've stuck your neck, arm, leg, and tongue out floor. They say closed mouths don't get fed, yet the ones that want to open get shutdown.

I let a "friend" use my car sometime in August to get to a job interview. Why? Because that's what I fucking do. I help the people that I care about. And toi know what happened? My shit got wrecked. And toi know what else? He didn't offer to help pay a single penny for the damages. Luckily my insurance at the time was on point and my credit wasn't to shabby either. Go figure.

This Covid bullshit took a good friend, and two good family members. All three were fucking phenomenal people. And though I've never been too good with grieving, I felt obligated to live in their place. To live what they weren't able to. That's been a lot of weight on my shoulders.

I feel exhausted on the inside. Like I've been holding my breath all this time, anxious for a different outcome. Fearful towards things ending up the same.

Yet through all of these trenches of utter dog shit and flat out terrible people, I've found something beautiful.
I've found that I've got this stubbornness that just...won't...let..me lay down and give up.
No matter how bad I want to throw in the towel, toss down the rope, play a solo mission of Russian roulette, etc., I grit my teeth myself and tell myself "It's okay. You're okay.". Even when I'm not.

I want to tap out. Lay down. Throw up the white flag. Stay on the ground pinned while life counts to ten. But every single time, right when I feel like I'm done, I throw my arm up. I kick. I scream. I climb to the haut, retour au début of that deep and dark trench, and I come up swinging.

And from this I've learned that nobody's going to be there for toi like toi are for yourself. No one is going to spend those devastating nights alone with toi asking "When will it end?" but yourself. I came into the world alone and that's how I'm going to leave this bitch. I've come to terms with that.

It's a long ride to the other side on this bus, and if I manage to pick up some people who actually give a fuck and has my back like I'll have theirs, then cool. If not, then fuck'em, my dick is here to suck.

I've grown a lot as a person this year, and I still got a ways to go. But I'll be moving vers l'avant, vers l’avant without the dead weight. Without being the carpet and rug for other people's feet. Without putting people so far before myself that I forget that I'm a human being too. I kept on a mask that kept me sûr, sans danger for as long as it could, and now its broken. And I've never felt better. No plus people pleasing. No plus holding everything in until it eats from the inside out.

So if toi don't/didn't know me, congratulations. Now toi sorta do. toi don't like me? Suck a shit and choke, I'm not here to be liked. Wanna talk, chill, be REAL friends? Cool beans, I'm down with it.

Too anyone who's had to go through similar things, don't give up. Find what toi need to keep putting one foot in front of the other until your running towards what toi want and need head on. We'll make it. We got this. Lets kick life in it's fuckin' teeth.