shape up or ship out.. everyday since then, has been worse then the last. there seems no saving grace. nothing that can be done. they wont listen to me, and what I say isn't worth the regard or respect that I feel. there is no such thing as equal, but I beleive the scale sways between the two, balancing the proper amount of love, respect and tolerance.



every last word is about my issues. every comment is always followed up with a yea but...

I can't not help. I can not give advise and actually be listen to. I can not ask for habits to be formed for the better of everything. its an attack from me.



what do I want.... I need to figure this. I want to be loved for me. because Im tall, heavy built. because my blue eyes and strong hands. I want to be seen as a friend, love and man.



I have never felt like I do lately. so many things in my head.. so many comments, habits and endless "no's"... yea but, you dont get it, its your issues .........I lost my daughter, no one actually wanted to listen to me.. several friends bickered about not being told the same night it happened.. people I thought were friends, people who never called, no emails or even a hello in many many years... their not my friends anymore.



I lost my sister through her own ignorence.... a secreted bond destroyed through time and resentment..



i foolishly removed most all friends from my person. by choice, the drama was reaching criticle mass.

I wanted to work, I wanted to work and save money and buy a home, lay roots, I wanted kids that would grow up to be good people, kids that could learn, kids that would have morals, not were their pants below their knees.. who wouldn't do drugs, drink to much, drop out, rape, murder, or general hurt some one on purpose.



I wanted a 5 room house with a decent yard front and back, a mini van, white fence, a dog and a cat. I wanted a decent nieghbore hood, one that allowed me to be safe and keep my family secure. I wanted to invite my nieghbore over for a bbq and a beer.



I wanted what I was suposed to become. before the drinking and drugs, before I was born. I wanted to be the man my father was, minus the relentless fighting with my mother. I wanted to be something of a social butterfly like my sister, minus the sex drugs and abuse she had to deal with.



instead I lied. I lied to myself over and over, soon it seeped from my grasp and spured across my life. then there was the fights, by day, by night. jaw crushing, fist flying.. trying to prove myself.. prove to who? to what? ... it stopped.. then the drinking.. the sex.. with out a pause, women after women... reaping a path of sexual tension across the GTA that had been begging for release... the hate that came from that.. the men that saught to harm me.. the fighting again.. this time it wasn't to prove.. but to save.. I held nothign back for my life.. I tossed them into traffic, I tossed them over bridges, out of windows, I even had to fight my way out of a holding cell..

arrested so many times, never to be charged.. a grace? an angels luck? I dont know... I've tossed myself infront of busses, cars vans and civy trucks.. then there was teh pills.. pill after pill, drug apon drug.. in 12 hours shots, perks, oxi's tranqs, cocain. 8 bals coc-puffs, hard line rails on a crisp fifty rolled nice and tight...



I did not see a doctor. I did not see illness beyond the normal cold. no std's no overdoses (not for the lack of trying) I gave up trying to give up.

then the memory . its gone, I remember my childhood from VHS tapes and blank sickening blurs inbetween.. the memories clash and shatter agains the Lies.. the life I lived lost to the life I dreamed.. running brown paper bags, busting skulls, packing loaded heat, with a slug dangling from my neck, my name carved into it..



my memories lie to now. i dont know when things happened or how, or if at all.. I dont know what i've down. I dont know who I was, should have been, or am.

I its all there at once.. nothing to sort it all out,.. my instints guide me the best they can..

so many memories gone. mixed up and distorted. was a I raped as a kid? they say so.. the family says I was sick... they say my mothers to blame for it.. they say she lied.. they tell me her sins as to vindicate something unknown to me... they remind me of a flock of demons preying on the flesh of their kin.



was I supposed to be aborted? its said to be.. but how did I live.. the fighting, the violence, the stairs the morning after pill, and I am here ... was I sold and traded amongst teh masoriary cults of pedifiles across the country? it would be said so by some..

I dont know who I am.. I dont want to know who I am..



my Life is over with these thoughts, accusations and false suggestions of the imagination.

my life was about building me from the image I had born to provide me with strength.

it does no good, no matter if I was fucked like a rabbit agaists my will, I dont remember it. I dont NEED TO. I am about moving to my goals. I was about that..

does it matter if I hurt tons of people with weaons, drugs and threat? to some sure, to me know.. I gave my sorrow, I pleaded my forgiveness "just incase it was true" and I mioved on.. and you want to dig that up?

does it matter if I was invloved in drug deals? does it matter if I was used for the perversions of masonary wanna be's? no.. its not in my head.. its not in my soul.. I stood proud..



When I introduce myself it was strong, proud and fearsome. I projected an aura of self Worth. I could look at myself in the mirror and smile at me. at What I was becoming.. I had everything.. right there.. right in my head, in my hands and it didn't fucking matter what my past had to store.. because in the Real world that how it works.. HEALING IS A CHOICE . no a fucking poor baby hug me grp.. albiet those grp help many man y many people.. its just not for me.. I didn't need it.. I needed it secret.. I needed my past to remain my past.. I need my life to remain in drive.. I needed to be trusted and loved for me being me. I needed to be wanted because my name is mother fucking paul bardgett.. not pittied and drug through memory after fucked memory.. my demons were defeated and since then fuelled by something I can see, but will not force into action..



when I was in control.. my life was successful and I was happy. I shouldn't have to give up that happiness for a pseudo reality of "dealling with your issues please" when I had my shit down pact..



dotn open pandoras box, then try to kick it out when you dont like what is inside.