There was a time, when I hated the world. When my consistent state of mind, was eluded by depression and thoughts of self hate and destruction.
The onset of this, was my Mother’s own demise. Her choice into self recklessness. As much as I know medicine played a huge roll in her unraveling, she’s always had that look about her. Right behind her eyes, which now seem so clouded.
So her generation struggles, ’til this day. They’re so disappointed with the things they never did, that they’ll destroy the nourishing world that could help propel their children into triumph.
That woman drove me crazy. I would hate to live in her head. To accuse everyone besides herself, in the brainwashing of her only child. When my most prevalent memories of her, are those concerning her abuse. She gave my perspective on people, and their underlying greed. To so madly desire control, to victimize a naive child in the process.
For years after, all I could do was write it all out. The pain I’d gained from her, the mistrust I’d placed in my own Mother: my Goddess, in an upbringing that held no religion.
My generation has surely shown their struggle. School shootings. Can you place your emotive sense into the heart and mind of a killer? To know the pain of being an outcast, and seeing little possibility in ever being a success. So much, that when the moment comes to bear revenge on those perpetrators, you simply hate every living being. To taunt them to their face for their faithful purpose, only to kill them in the end. All that anger, and all it led to was their own death. What fruit does such an action bear?
The void of destruction is ever clinging, and the silence is unbearable. To look back and see the lives you’ve stained… That is something nobody ever wants to bear. Which is why Timothy McVeigh laughed with joy upon hearing his sentence of death penalty.
I feel everyone… even the killers. I see their purpose, and their fate.
I bear scars and cuts on my legs, that resemble my anger and sadness towards individuals. For when I go to shave, and I can’t keep my mind clear of emotion… My hand subconsciously gives into the rage, and I fall victim to my savage mind. This use to be addicting, but the more I fight these feeble ways, the more I gain consciousness in my wake.
The only saving grace I ever had, were my own words. I clenched to a pencil, like it was my only way to breathe. For in the words I did exhale, wounds were mended, where I’d otherwise only inflict it upon me physically.
For years now, I’ve encountered a sort of “writers block”. A wall put there by myself, for myself. I buried a lot, and moved on. Still, my surface is shallow, and when I choose to take a dive…. I hit rock bottom head first.
As much as there have been people in my life, that would like to see the “happy Jackie”, and hear nothing but her…..I AM ME. I will not promise a merry disposition, for the majority of me sees happiness in the wake of sorrow. I weigh and balance all emotions, for the greater whole of self growth. Though, I cannot be balanced without my grief. My expression is what holds me firm, without washing away in my wallowing tide.
So what brought me here today, was overwhelming stress. The things I’ve refused to acknowledge, that give me rage enough to kill men where they stand. To vividly recall the dreams which display this. To, even in conscious thought, imagine myself beating the pulp out of someones skull. Yes, that is I.
Now, I feel that I stand in front of the facts… and it’s time to lay my cards out, and let my deck be ruled. For I’m sick of sucking this in, and I’m ready for some freedom… Because triumph has always been mine, but these pathetically jealous fools have just pecked away at my persona. We may only need love, but sometimes it’s therapeutic to be brute and honest: FUCK YOU AND YOUR SELFISHLY DEFEATING WAYS!
Martin (Rene) Ramirez Granados (My biological Father): For all of the appreciation I ever did show. You come to me with your words of distaste, and threats to the family I’ve made, that will carry out your bloodline. What sort of sick fuck are you? One that is my Father. Ah yes. I have come to terms with that. You are part of the reason I hold all this rage.
It’s sick, that I wouldn’t put it past you, for you to take one of your handguns and shoot me if I were to come on your property. Because you’re so far down in the dumps, that you just can’t see anything other than what I have done so wrongly.
You have one child. You always wanted a son, but this world just wouldn’t grant you that wish. Because you’d have made a mad-man out of him. The fact is, you’ve already done a well enough job on yourself.
Taking any gratitude and raping it with bitterness. “My Mother told me to get a job and buy a car. If I would’ve stayed in Tennis, I would’ve gotten a scholarship to college. But my Mother was too fucking ignorant.” No, your Mother loved you too fucking much. To swaddle you until you were five, and allow you to not walk. To financially support you into your mid-twenties, even in the most minuscule of ways.
Maybe you didn’t do enough time for your crimes. Or maybe that priest reamed you one time too many, because you surely have something stuck up your ass.
To not appreciate that my hands ever rubbed your sagging shoulders, tied with the knots of your own making. To be ashamed, and not thankful for the nights I’d pinch the puss from the acne on your back. I slaved over your muck enough, and I’ve let go.
I knew the possible outcomes for my action. But I’d never change you, and my presence was only distracting you from truth. You were dragging me down, while trying to pull yourself up. I just wasn’t willing to be your pawn. Never was I suppose to live the life you had planned.
Months before, I had told Laurie I felt I was going to do something crazy. I didn’t know what, but I was sick of you. I had paid my toll, and it was time for me to go. So, in making my choice, I knew if there was ever to be hope in our relationship… the best choice was to leave. You would surely be mad, because that’s all you ever can be… but if our relationship was to ever be what I wanted, you’d have to deal with that, grow past it, and learn to love me unconditionally.
So I chose my husband, at 17. BRILLIANT! To do right for myself on the first try. Not out of pity for a fool, but out of true love and connection through our souls. I have to say, my intuition is just AWESOME! Never proven wrong.
Almost four years past, and you still choose bitterness. You can’t stand that you were never meant to be my #1 man. That wasn’t your place. A Father guides his daughter to a place of independence, and then off she sails for herself. So far away I’ve floated, on the brash wind you’ve hollered.
You’re eyes will never grace the beautiful daughter I labored for. She chose us as a Family, and I will surely do her better than my own parents. To not even acknowledge her by her true name. To disgrace her with your petty remarks.
Your Mother would shame you straight to hell if she knew the sort of ungodly prejudice you’ve bestowed upon your own blood. Doesn’t that just eat you away to know? I know it does. That is why you just can’t bear to live any longer. Though you may not have the guts to eat your own gun, you sure do have enough meddling thoughts in that mind, to cripple your spine and shrivel you to a dieing pulp.
Be careful what you wish for. Because when the day comes that you pass… You’ve made sure that nobody will be by your side. You will fall into the unknown, and your “God of War” will have taken you straight to the hell you’ve built only for yourself. What a lonely demise to fall by.
Where my prior thanks have done no good, I now know where to pay homage.
1. Thanks to you, I know what not to be. Though your deathly stare does come through these eyes, I will never succumb to you.
2. All those years I rubbed your aching muscles, I developed some of the strongest hands. My most grateful husband now enjoys the stress I relieve from his body.
3. Since you’ve surely shown me all the ridicule and hate you have for me…. I now feel what it is to unconditionally love my own Family. Thanks for pushing me away, and towards the light in my heart.
–With all of that said, and my thoughts of dread out of this head. The pit that once ate at my heart; has now bestowed upon you, a piercing dart. Without my Father, I will surely go Farther.
