“Scott says I’m sick! Sick in mind; that’s why I relate to you; that’s why I keep coming back to you. How can I relate to you? When all you did is hurt me, destroyed my childhood. There’s no memory that’s sweet , I’m horrified to look back. A bitter taste of abusive stepfather is stuck on my palate. Now I want you to answer me; And answer me in YES! Or NO! DO YOU GET THAT?” NOW TELL ME WHY? WHY DID YOU TREAT ME THE WAY YOU DID? WHY DID YOU HANG ME ON THE RACK?”
Clicking of the keys of my old typewriter was music to my ear. I could sit in the porch for hours with some cold ale and cheap pack of cigarettes and hit the keys to create symphony for my own demons to dance to. watch them dance; dance with them sometimes. Nothing bothered me, not the greying of the sky, rolling of the clouds or skeletons in my closet. Click, click, click..... click.
Once I was unbelievably young, I aged 40 years in one day. I could swallow a mouthful of my own blood without retching I sharpened blades between my teeth. Walk the nights like it was the day and I was the night.
“ Because I loved you enough to kick the shit out of you, to create a monster out of you. You relate to me cause you’re my creation. I never abandoned you, never forsake you, I loved you enough to allow you to hate me. You feel that anger within you? Let that be my greatest gift to you. Now go ahead and shoot me! Pull the trigger! Pull the goddamn trigger! And as you’re doing be a man enough to look into my eyes.”