KICK! HIT! GOAL!!!.

I've been watching ants a lot lately. Mostly because they have seen fit to invade my house. I've watched them file one by one in a straight line going to and from the bait traps I've laid out to eradicate them. They follow one another oblivious of their fate. They just think they struck it rich with a new food source. Little do they know they go back to their nest, just to spread death to all. I hate the thought of killing anything. I think every living creature has a purpose on this planet, including ants, although I do question roaches. But these ants are costing me money now by invading my food. This I can not have, therefore they will die.

After killing 376 ants, i finally leveled up. yea!

Love is not an easy emotion for me to accept from another.

I have sat here and read the above sentence several times. I want to change it because it is not exactly what goes on inside me, but I haven’t found a better way to say it.

Sharing love with another is not easy for me. Well. . .Okay. That’s better. I can accept love from others. However, it is a struggle for me to trust that love. The underlining doubt belongs to my childhood experience that the human cannot be trusted. I say human because gender and age are not a consideration.

As a young boy experiencing physical and sexual abuse from other boys, I created rules of survival. Stay sharp, act dumb, and keep control. As long as I kept myself within those rules, I was not seen as vulnerable and therefore; I experienced less abuse.

The park was my escape from the loneliness of my bedroom in a foster home when I was teenager, living in Washington Heights, and struggling with life. I went to the park to play chess with the old men and listen to their stories of the “old days.” I played single-wall handball and didn’t mind the sting from slapping the small, hard, black ball with my hand. I sat on a park bench to watch people parade past me.

Sometimes, I talked to strangers who wanted to share my bench.

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I believe the emotional pain I experienced as a child cannot be quantified. The disappointment of a rich boy who does not get the car he wants is no greater than the disappointment of a poor boy who does not get his BB gun. There is no scale of 1 to 10. The tears I shed are no more or less than another person 's tears. The pain I endured is no more or less than another person 's pain.

DEAD.

.][-Splattered my blood on
1:20 AM