Snippets from rough draft of book majority is incomplete or just ideas.

Writing

Violence

Middle school was all such an emotional thrill ride that I just suffered through. I was just another kid who was looking for himself and never understood myself. I got picked on by these two girls they would always bear their fangs at me whenever we crossed paths. I would cower into my shell because I never was able to grasp the words from within myself. I hid them all away because I was afraid to hurt others. I’d much rather just get hurt myself.

That all changed in seventh grade. Sixth grade was nothing of any importance. Seventh grade is when I finally broke the chains off my heart and the anger finally was useful for something other than self-hate. I clenched my fist and I felt all the words that I couldn’t say. They never needed to be spoken. My hands spoke for me once I swung them hard enough.

I was timid still, but I had my anger. When the wind began to sing and my hollow head awakened. I fought back. I swung violently and without remorse. I never hurt those two girls who hated themselves than me. I was just a target of their low self-esteem. I never knew their names I hardly remember their faces.

It was two-thirty pm and I was ready to go home.  This kid, his name is completely gone in my mind so we’ll call him Johnny, Johnny insulted my mother, and I was sensitive about the subject still even though it had been years since she had been gone but the pain of the loss was still ever present in my heart.  I felt words rushing up my throat “I will kill you!” I screamed at an octave high enough that it felt like I shattered the glass around us. I felt my body rushing forward and my fist pressed against his nose. I felt so many emotions as I repeatedly smashed my shaking knuckles into his face. There were tears coming from my eyes and anger rushing from my mouth. I didn’t let him breathe, I didn’t let him retaliate. I just wanted to destroy something for all of the months that everyone destroyed my confidence and character.

It got worse as the years progressed I became a part of this gang of tattered street smart soldiers who were addicted to medical herbs and prescription highs. I was eighteen years old. High school was the last priority on my mind. I just wanted to feel the rush of being a sedated, angry and misunderstood youth. Yet it wasn’t much of a rush once all of the sedation wore off and my fists were clenched I wanted more, I wanted my world to be just as slow as my bodily functions, this world was my everything.

The Gang’s All Here(incomplete)

Vulgar words were volleyed around a few times between my crew and a group of kids who were unaware of the things that were to come. The things that came next

The Women

My life has revolved around my unprofessional study of women, the way they seek men, their romantic needs, their deepest secrets and who they believe they are. I’ve watched many women fall prey to men who hunted them down and brought them to their backs. I’ve absorbed my fair share of heartbroken tears.  Women have been a major part of my development and who I have become. There are so many women I’ve lusted, loved, and just wanted. I never dated some and still had my heart broken by their rejections and their dislike of who I am.

I know what women want, and how to treat them as a gentlemen but I’ve never allowed myself to be completely vulnerable with women. That’s what drives them away. When they leave that’s when my vulnerability shows and they pity me and either stay or leave. I’m afraid to be left alone, ever since my brother left home, and my mother passed away. I’m afraid to be alone.

But alone is where I belong, but I always find myself  seeking the comfort of a woman’s tender lips and soft skin and the scent of their hair as I lay my head on their chest.  I don’t know what to make of what I want when I come to women so I’m always floating in and out of their lives leaving pieces of myself where ever they allow.

 

Brianna Cooke.

Brianna was a petite girl with glistening cocoa butter scented hair and a complexion of caramel that had been caressed by a sweet spoon. All of this was often noticed by all the other boys in my school that all had her eyes on her as I did. I’d force teardrops down my chubby cheek to create a friendship with her. I was so petty and indecent to her. I begged for her hand in friendship because the concept of being in a relationship at six years old was ever so foreign to us.

As I stared at the linoleum floor of the classroom I tried to look at her blurred reflection in the ground so I wouldn’t be caught with wandering eyes and looked at with disgust. When recess came around I finally had my chance to make memories with her in the sand and woodchip covered playground, or write her an immature sonnet with her favorite colored chalk on the blacktop where all the kids feet stomped and knees scrapped and teeth were grit. I wanted to make something beautiful for her on place where beauty was ignored.

Brianna never noticed my hopeless romanticism. She was too busy falling over this one kid at naptime. He was one of the cool kids, the typical cliché cool kid: fast-talking, good-looking. He always slept in the beanbag chair that the teacher kept in the corner instead of using his own blanket. One particular day Brianna was next to him. Her body juxtaposed next to his my eyes didn’t blink I was enticed by their affair during naptime. I was trapped in that moment. I think this was the moment that I realized that maybe she wasn’t all that great that maybe I should give up on her. That boy, that tool, that macho would-be big kid on campus he kissed her. Their lips intertwined and in that moment I felt a piece of me getting sucked down a garbage disposal and shredded apart. He made the only move that I was completely embarrassed to do. He felt the warmth of her lips and how soft her skin felt. I only knew of that pleasure in my head. My heart was broken for the first time. As the ending of naptime came closer and closer, I tried to plot my way into Brianna’s heart. Since I had studied the companions she had made throughout the day, I decided to use them to forcibly persuade her to be my friend. Maybe I could take it from there. As we were putting our blankets and pillow in the cubbies that smelt of paste and melted crayons: I approached one of Brianna’s close friends: Breanne Robinson, she was a taller girl with braided hair and plump lips. I tapped her shoulder lightly with my fingertips to get her attention. She turned to me, as she did one of her braids whipped around and planted right between my eyes. I let out a tremendous yell of anguish, as she tried to counsel me she asked, “I’m sorry Derwin, what’s up?”, whilst lifting her braid from my face,” I was just wondering, could you make Brianna be my friend? She hasn’t been talking to me and I want to be her friend.” I pleaded. My beggar’s way was a success by the next day at recess Brianna was my friend. I knew it was all empty. We were kids how was I supposed to know any better? How was I supposed to know that forcing the friendship of another would just be hollow and nothing true, I would learn these things later in life.

Too young to comprehend what these emotions were.  I didn’t understand that there would be darker times, I didn’t understand that even though my heart felt as if stones were weighing it down: I could endure.

After my emotions with Brianna had faded I began to realize that

 

 

ISG

Five years of her, five years we’ve spent entangled in each other’s hearts and lives. I first saw you when I was a scummy tenth grade burn-out and you were this innocent beautiful woman to me. I admired you from afar and then we became something more. I’ve been through hell and back torturing myself trying to be by your side. How could you not notice things by the way I showed my love to you? How could you ever not know? I was so afraid to lose her, to lose my love, to lose my better half, I pushed her away countless times, she broke me countless times, and we fell apart and ran back to one another.  I chased after her heart and she ran into the arms of men who never treated her like the woman she was. I got to watch the woman you became today; I got to watch you slip away. I got to watch you leave. You’re the only one I ever let back.

 

This petite beauty, bronze skin, a sly smile, her waist was as small but her back poked out slightly, her voice and hair that flowed in the corridors of a high school that was filled with cliché groups of would-be friends. The eyes that glanced upon your beautiful face, you glanced back with spite in your heart because you know they were just chasing after your skirt tails. When you saw you me, you hardly noticed my overbearing presence.  I noticed you. I NOTICED YOU.

But when I saw you, when I saw you, my heart stuttered my palms got sweaty. I was taken by just your appearance. I was desperate to get to know who you were. It took me months to get inside of your heart.  You initially thought I was just after the pleasure that centers between your thighs, but how could want just that? That climatic momentary bliss and nothing after, I didn’t want that. You were the first woman besides my grandmother whose arms I wanted to crawl into and just feel you. Only off a first glance, I heard your name as someone said it in passing “Hey ”, you responded and when you opened your mouth. My world stopped, the people walking in past me blurred out you were the only one in focus. I watched those plush lips curve and then the sound of a sweet and tender voice dance on my ear drums. From that moment forth I was latched onto the thought of you. My thoughts were strung together by images of your smile in my head.

A few weeks passed and we finally got passed the awkward “hello”, more so awkward because every time I got close to you my stomach turned to knots and my words became thin air between my closed lips. My brain shut down around you. I never thought you’d even respond to my greetings. I opened your mouth and it sounded like the sweetest symphony.

There are things we said, things we did that I’d rather not speak on at times but I have no regrets about us. It was never sad to me that I loved you even when you crushed my heart between your fingertips. It was never sad; it was just my way of proving that I thought I deserved you. Remember when I told you I thought I was in love with you? I do and I regret it every day of my life, I’ve never been as intoxicated with one single person as I have been with you. I’m slowly allowing myself to be destroyed by the hopes that maybe one day you’ll run into my arms and kiss me and say, “I’ve always loved you just as much as you did me”, these are just hallucinations that happen when my eyes are dried out and my brain hasn’t rested. The hallucinations happen often since I hardly sleep anymore. I’m surprised you’ve stuck around. I’m surprised I’m still able to love you. I’m afraid I’ll forever lose you. You started talking to one of the people that I knew, and as soon as I saw that there was an attraction I knew you were going to be taken away from my heart and my eyes. , nine months and I still hate everything that you have with him. When it all first happened you tried everything to tell me that it wasn’t going to change, that’d you’d spend time with me, that you’d still love me and answer me whenever I called. You promised me so many things, you wore the shirt I got you for Christmas one year to try and cheer me up. It made me feel special for a moment.

I told you to stop promising me things; I knew things wouldn’t be as you told them.  You started to drift away from me, I stopped speaking, I stopped smiling, and I stopped trying to pull you back. I let you fall from my hands. The honest truth is, is that I never let you fall. I just watched you fall faster and harder for someone that I knew.

Eventually I just let you fall so you could forget me, so you could hate me for not being happy for you, so you could have all the room in your heart for him. I watched as your relationship began to develop more and more and the foundation of ours still was left unstable. I began to feel like an abandoned experiment. I knew everything about you. You couldn’t even remember my middle name, my birthday.  I felt stupid. I felt like a puppet dancing on your strings. My mind was weak and I was victim to insults about you that were spewed out by friends.

Now you’ve been with this guy for a while I haven’t seen your face in a year or more, I barely speak to you. Your life is going swimmingly, without me in the bigger picture. I used to dream of you, I still do. In the grand view of it all we crashed into each other at a bad time in our lives. I sometimes imagine if I met you at a better time maybe we’d fall in love, maybe things would be as I wished. Then I feel as if I’d somehow ruin our love.  I offered you everything you ever wanted in a man, the affection, the attention, the honesty. It was never enough, I wasn’t enough. You wanted to date someone who was handsome and had veins that popped from their skin vividly. You didn’t want me. You never did.  I always wanted you. Nothing was ever how I wanted it to be. I played coy and sly so my emotions didn’t show and your pursuit of finding happiness in the arms of another man would succeed.

There was a time where I had Taylor, and you said you felt like I left you, I never admitted to you how good that made you feel, that maybe you cared that I was gone and not giving you the attention. I missed you at that era in my life. You still meant a lot to me, but I thought Taylor could change my world.

Instead she just abandoned it after I served my purpose

TYB

I was so positive; you were going to change my world that you were going to give me all the love and pleasure that I had been lacking my entire life. Truthfully I knew we were never going to last. We gravitated to one another because we were broken. You wanted to be loved, I wanted to give love to someone who wanted it, you kept your demons around and you tried to control things in life that were out of your power. You created a place in your heart for there to be an “us” but us never lasted; we were just a phase for us both. You didn’t know what love meant, you just wanted me to fill a void that had just become deeper when you lost the only man that was close to you, your grandfather, and he meant the world to you. I stood by you when you cried almost every night and you needed someone. You were foolish, controlling, but I felt like we somehow fit together. At the end things were violent and it all fell to a bitter hatred. I missed your face at times, and the way you playfully pressed your lips to mine and made me feel as if you truly wanted me, but it was all just empty affection to distract you from your misery. I was just another pawn for you to push over and eliminate from the game. You didn’t believe what we had was true, I doubted it from the start but I was just ignoring the truth. That I was just using you as much as you were using me. We were just two ruined people trying to piece another together. How sad we were together, to believe that we belonged to one another.

BDF

An aggressive woman with hair that was as wild as her. Her lips were plump and full just as much as her cheeks were; we stumbled across one another through ideas exchanged on social media. I was so intrigued by her strong worded short rants about how people of color weren’t respecting themselves. She grew on me, and I grew on her. We became close knit and I found her beautiful and strong. She was more powerful with her words than I believed. She would grab my heart and raise it higher so I wouldn’t feel alone. I never thought that I’d find myself loving a woman that was so far away but felt like she belonged in my world. I wanted her;  she was the closest thing to my heart for a long while. We spoke every night for hours without an end it felt like, she sang and I just listened and enjoyed. We’d talk about our dreams, and our families she taught me things about the world that I hadn’t yet learned. I wanted to see her, and to spend days with her just talking about the things and sharing our knowledge. I loved her; she was educated and openly opinionated. She wasn’t afraid to show her frustrations on subjects.

I found myself jealous of her boyfriends and men she spoke to, I was just afraid again. Afraid to lose a special woman I’m always so afraid.

One day BDF became cold, and standoffish. She lost herself and was confused on her path on life, she was tired of her home life, and she was frustrated with her life in all aspects I tried to offer my assistance thinking I could make a change. But I was told that I didn’t understand and to just let her be for a while. I felt as if I was going to never hear from her again.

She apologized to me and just said she needed to find herself again.

 

NOW

All of these words and a few heartfelt one liner sentences that imitate my life as it were and as it is now.

I’ve just been trying to write this glorious story about how I became who I am; I’m just another person without a single clue about what is really going on. I’ve been through and seen my own personal hell. I’ve burned my heart on the fires of rejection, I’ve cut my tongue with poison knives, I’ve thrown myself into oceans of sorrow.

Right now, I’ve built a family. I’ve built something I’ve never felt I had at times.

How can truly call them a family when I haven’t told them a third of what actually plays through my mind or the past things that I keep hidden?  My family is unaware of who I am at the core of it all. Past the smiles and the moments of silence; I am just another broken plate on the floor that everyone walks over because they are afraid to cut their hands upon the shards. Even if someone does clean me up, I’ll just break again. I’ve been chasing myself a lot recently; I’ve learned that I’m just trying to get back to the being a kid again. I’ve been just trying to force keys into broken locks. All of these locked memories that I’ve been chasing after hoping to find some piece of me that maybe I left behind. Maybe if I turned the keys hard enough I’d break the lock and I’d just rush into it and open up a Pandora’s box of my own making that I hid from myself because I wasn’t prepared for happiness yet.

 

Summer ‘14

      Summer is barreling down upon us. Within two months, I’ve left my handprints all over the murder scene of romances that weren’t even my own.   I always felt the need to somehow help everyone else find the love they’d been searching for; because I never got mine. The love I wanted it was fleet of foot, quick to run away from the things I offered. My heart was shattered a multitude of times but I was told to just stay. To stay hopeful for love, for the future, hopeful that I’d have you one day no matter how much I grit my teeth and push you back, I still love you, I always loved you, and I will forever and always love you. I never admitted how much I hated seeing you happy, because it was all not my doing, I wasn’t the one who got to hold you and talk to you with affectionate poems every day, I was the one who you came to whenever your heart was hurt and your love was ignored. I’ve always been the fallback guy.

Every fall back guy falls for the woman that he supports, because he gets to know and love every ignored crack and tear in that woman’s heart and every unsatisfied desire. I spent my time trying to create a love that everyone wanted. But I just ruined everyone’s love. I knew I had ruined everything when people started to ignore me. When I was left alone and no one was there for me when I was busy contemplating suicide and wondering if I should’ve died.

There was Conner and Kathy; they were entangled in each other long before I left my filthy fingerprints upon their new blooming love. They were the best of friends, two peas in a pod. In High school they always were seen together, I knew Conner then, but we never talked about his romantic pursuits in high school those conversations came about with the form of the brotherhood. Kathy is this woman with a short stature and an aggressive mentality and an honest heart. She loves to laugh and she was into the Gorillaz; they are her favorite band. She loves to dye her hair and she wasn’t very religious but Conner was a man of devote faith.

Conner had this eruption of raw emotion in his chest and the only thing that came out was his affection toward Kathy, she ran away from it and him. This was her nature, and it eternally scarred Conner’s heart. It always hurts more when you open yourself up expecting to have the other person’s heart as open as your own, but your left feeling cold and naked abandoned with your arms open hoping for something but all you’ve truly got is just that empty sensation in the bottom of your stomach.

I understand how Conner felt, that feeling was the worst thing to ever feel for anyone. When the person you care for simply leaves. Conner patiently waited for her return for seven years.

She reappeared, through a friend of a friend, and they found one another again.

 

 

 

Untitled portion

 

There’s always a train, a train that runs every night. It crashes into my train of thought. My thoughts are crushed underneath the wreckage of this train wreck. All it took was this late night’s train horn to blare to ruin my train of thought as it went barreling down the railway that has been constructed atop my brain. Took years to construct this way of thinking and this railway that supports all my thoughts, but it takes so little to derail and destroy things. That I’ve imagined.

I never wanted to move here, where the trains roam and the people are just as quiet as I am. Grandmother insisted that we needed to leave the old neighborhood, I didn’t want to but I needed to. There was too much history there. Too much violence and heartache that remained there, grandmother just wanted to be secure in her old age. I just wanted to be okay.

But to be honest I’ve always been okay, I’ve felt the things that any being can feel. I’ve ached, I’ve cried, I’ve changed countless times.

We went north, and left behind the sweat soaked boulevard where we formally resided.

I thought it’d be colder, I thought my mind wouldn’t run as much. I was thinking as a child instead of realistically.

 

 

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