| braiden lessing |
[10/26/2020 @ 10:58am] |
[08/15/1989 @ 3:34pm]
i said,
if that man puts his hands on me again, i will kill him. well, i didn’t kill him, but i’ve had it. i almost killed him, but my mother came home. i had stabbed him twice and the man was still breathing. yes, i understand how horrific a scene of that nature could be, but instead of shock and disgust, my mother reacted with anger. you would think, i had just saved her life. the man was beating her to death, selling everything we owned, and pretty much being the trash that develops in the slums of las vegas, nevada. i had grown up with this man — this man who put his hands on me. this man who had sexually abused me. this man who had slept with two of my girlfriends. this man who had sold my first guitar. this man who hated me and let me know it. this man who pretended to be something at first then had the nerve to give up.
she called the cops. she called the cops ON ME! she threatened me, chased me with a letter opener and told me that i would die for what i did, but she thought juvenile hall would not do justice to the punishment i needed. she called me worthless.
she hates me.
and i hate her.
i did nothing but try to protect her.
i am sitting at a coffee shop, spending my last dollars on cheap coffee and an hour on the net.
even my friends have abandoned me. the band did not find me useful.
they are the useless.
i hate people.
they make me ill.
i have nothing but the clothes on my back, my acoustic and my ipod that i spent, count them, three paychecks to get.
i guard these things with my life.
[10/26/2008 @ 11:02pm]
it has been years. years since i can remember being a seventeen year old boy, almost man, living in a halfway house, trying to survive. what i've learned since then is my independence is key, my solidarity is crucial, my life primary. i was angry then, less angry now. i'm the me that i would have loved to be those years ago. i spend my days training children and adults in kickboxing, spend my nights playing songs i've written on my acoustic and singing at coffee joints. i am happy with my life. i am happy with me.
i am happy alone. i am happy together. life still has a way of slapping anyone in the face and wounding them greatly, but i have survived more than most. i will continue to survive. who knows what a day holds? i hold in my hand, the key to succeed.
more people should hold such a key. the moaning and groaning of the self pitying masses, that has to end. this too shall pass. the fittest will be left standing, in the remains of the weaker.
i will be left standing.
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