god, deity, supernatural creator, universe… whoever you are

I’ve believed in many forms of you…

I grew up calling you God.  I accepted You as the Father, Jesus as your son, the Holy Spirit and the Virgin Mary.  Since I learned how to talk, I’ve been praying to you, singing songs of Tafanlisayo, O Maria Namonagof, Mother Dearest, Here I am Lord, and the list continues.  I was taught to believe in your path for me at such a young age.  There were so many things I doubted about you and the way I learned about you, but my fate, my destiny, was not one of them until recently.

Through so many trials and tribulations, I had faith there were lessons to be learned so that I may fit into the role you created for me.  Belief in this helped me see the good in everything.  I did this so well, one of my positive attributes that all noticed was that I was always able to appreciate unfortunate circumstances or negative outcomes of matters of the heart or unexpected repercussions for actions that came from the kindness of the soul.

For so long I believed there was a reason for absolutely everything…

My parents had me at such a young age, they were children struggling to raise children – this gave me a passionate perspective of how I want to be as a parent.  Involuntarily, I was no longer a child at seven years old – the structure of responsibility as a parent and giving tools to children to help them make the right decisions is something I value intensely.  My father was in the military and we were constantly shifting our home for the first ten years of my life, I was unable to gain any sense of stability or see the need for it – as an adult, I can adapt to any environment or situation, I know how to observe people and their surroundings and be able to morph into it.  Dexter died at only seven and a half years old due to cardiac arrest – he came into my life and gave me hope and faith in all things beautiful, he taught me how to be a better human being and left me when he knew his job was done – he was an angel.  There are so many aspects of life that could have been considered damaging, but through you, I created positivity, because I believed there is a role I must play and this role is involved with something so much bigger in life.  I felt it – I felt that I have meaning and I must be involved with a destiny in which was ordained.

Life continues to happen, along with pain, suffering and happiness.  I began to analyze the argument for your existence and too many questions were unanswered.

Why should I learn from suffering?  What’s there to learn from another’s suffering?  What makes me so special that I am living and my cousin, Danielle, is not?  What is there to gain from exercising tough love and doing my best to not be an enabler with my sister?  Why must she suffer with addictions and self-infliction?  What am I supposed to learn from her?  Why should my brother break down when he is alone and without his daughter?  Why would an All-Loving God full of goodness and all things right let my brother suffer and doubt his absolute love of a father for his own daughter?  For a lesson to be learned?  Who is supposed to learn this lesson?  Why must I feel this pain? Why is that I am healthy and have a roof over my head and innocent, precious children are born into extreme living conditions and must fight for life?  What am I supposed to learn from that?  What am I supposed  to gather from kidnapping, murder, rape, alcoholism, abuse and neglect?  Death from freak accidents, drunk driving, cancer, diabetes, respiratory and heart failure?  What is the lesson with all this and how can I see the good in that?

So much pain and sorrow exists in all of our lives, and I question it at last…

I don’t need severe suffering and pain to learn.  If our purpose for existence is to learn the difference of good and evil, and we strive for the path of enlightenment and greatness, then why must you continue to inflict these unfortunate events onto us, especially if we are made in your image?  Why is suffering necessary to reach reason?  Blessed are those who believe – but I accepted you as true for 29 years, and when will I be blessed?  Will it finally happen after I leave my human body which I value intensely and treat as my temple?  Will it occur when the ultimate sacrifice is made and I let my body stop living in order to save another’s?  Is it all these acts of selflessness that so many of us do our utmost to attain, so that we may live in your kingdom?  What have you given me to make me believe you have a kingdom?  Why is it we condition ourselves to believe stories that have been edited throughout the years?

Whomever you are, if you made me in your image, why don’t you trust me?  Isn’t reciprocity something to be valued?  If I trusted in you and your existence for 29 years, why would you not do the same for me?  It is so morally wrong to continue to test people for your ego… if we say we believe in you and our actions show for it, then why don’t you take it for what it is?  Why must you create obstacles and life-changing events that would make any human created in your image, doubt you…  You have created a self-fulfilling prophecy, and for whose gain?  Without followers you do not subsist and without God we do not flourish.  Why do you relentlessly give us reason to make you non-existent?

I am being faced with such a heartbreaking revelation – I want to pray, but who do I pray to?  For 29 years, prayer has brought me so close to you and has become a meditation to bring lucidity and conviction to my life.  I allowed it to bring clarity into my mind, my soul and my being.  Now that you have at last won your argument and have made me doubt your existence, I am left without prayer.  You have finally inflicted your absolute pain unto me, the reality that you do not exist and I don’t have you.  So now I ask, why have you forsaken me?  Why have you deceived me?  Why would you allow so many to follow you and trust in your greatness when you are unable to provide.  The pain and sense of being lost with no precision in mind is worse than any wound a human could ever wreak unto to me.

For so many years, I have relied on you as support.  I now realize that I must believe in this reality created for us on Earth, and I must rely on only myself for guidance.  I will trust myself, and know that I will live with all things good in mind.  I will become for myself what you pretended to be.

You are the ultimate deception.

I’m Gonna Git You Sucka

It was a Friday or Saturday night. I was drunk and couldn’t drive all the way home, so I pulled over and parked the car. I realized I was parked about five houses down the street from my house. Oh shit, I parked in front of the neighbor who is also the leader of a Mexican cartel. I was too drunk to drive five houses down, so I chose to sleep in my car instead of walk home.

Not even ten minutes pass and one of my girlfriends starts to knock on my window, “Chelle! Chelle! Wake up, this guy offered to drive us to your house.” She pointed at the 1975 Dodge Monaco Bluesmobile that was waiting beside my car. I get out of my car, watch her get into the back seat, and a horrible feeling manifested in my gut.

His features were disguised in the shadows of the vehicle.  He tried to reassure me in his deep Mexican accent, “Come on, I will take you to your house. I promise.” This guy worked for my cartel neighbor and he was responsible for the transport of goods. I knew what he was going to do.

I looked at my friend, and tried to mask my fear with an innocent smile, “Thanks, but I’m going to walk instead. Friend, you wanna come with?” But she was adamant to ride in his car. I wonder if he already drugged her… I closed the door and watched him take her in the wrong direction. I knew what her future entailed. She would be taken, drugged and sold.

I began to walk towards my house and it came to mind that the cartel knew where I lived. My palms were beginning to sweat, my body was shaking, an overwhelming sense of panic vibrated through me. Do they know I’m afraid? Will they come after me because I know what they’re going to do to my friend? I wanted to be home already. During the walk home, which felt like an eternity, I was hoping that my roommates William and Moe were home so I wouldn’t be alone.

I finally made it home. Before I entered I saw my next-door neighbor, Kid Cudi, peeking through his curtain, watching me. I knew he worked for the cartel, but he’s my friend, he wouldn’t turn me in… at least that’s what I was hoping.  I walked into the house and headed straight for my room… Wait, it sounds so silent. Moe and Will weren’t home. Dammit. I decided to close all the blinds and turn off the lights to make it look like no one was home, so I can stay safe until my roomies arrive. I walked to the livingroom and closed all the blinds. I walked to the front door and immediately the dead bolt caught my eye – it was unlocked. I remember locking it… I wasn’t alone in the house. Relaxed-like, I took my phone out of my pocket and dialed 911. I saw her from the corner of my peripheral vision. She was dressed in black and she was about to slay me with a tomahawk. I ran out of the house as fast as my size 6 feet could let me. I was running faster than Donovan Bailey, but my speed didn’t matter, she was right behind me.  After three blocks, one chaser became ten – I had ten females dressed in black and dark blue chasing me.  I was still on the phone with 911, listening to elevator music.

“Thank you for calling 911, what’s the nature of your emergency?”

“Please, you’ve got to help me!  I’ve got a whole of bunch of bitches chasing me and they’re working for the cartel!”

“Okay ma’am, remain calm, I’m going to dispatch someone to you right now.  Where are you located?”

“I’m running down Reo, and I’m just passing Manos Street!  Wait!  I see the cop car, but it’s going the wrong way!  Please!  He’s going the wrong way!”

“Ma’am, he’s going to help you, he’ll be there.”

“Fuck you!  You’re not helping me!  These people are going to kill me!”

I hang up the phone.  Fuck 911.  I saw a gated community to my left – I made a quick left and jumped behind a gate.  Most of the girls kept running forward.  A white girl stops right in front of the gate I’m hiding behind and a Mexican chick right behind her.

“Hey Martha, this doesn’t look right.” This 90210 bitch is from the valley, no doubt.  Her perfect blonde hair wasn’t rustled even after chasing me for ten minutes.  She pointed at the foliage, bushes and the gate.

“What’s the matter, Kelly? What do you see?”  This haina was definitely born and raised in South Bay San Diego, probably some chola from PHLS.

“Well, look at all those flowers, that’s Hydrangea Paniculata, also known as the Little Lamb Hydrangeas.  These are all white.  But look, there’s a black area where there should be white foliage.”  This scalliwag figured me out, dammit.

“Okay Kelly, let’s go check it out.”

Both these punk ass vajayjays approach my location.  Fuck, they caught me.  They called their cohorts and they dragged me back up the street towards the cartel’s house.  I knew some of these girls, how could they do this to me?  Anger raged through my body and the energy became a part of my bones.  Something snapped… all rationale left me.  All sensibility, reason and coherence separated from myself.

“Fuck all of you!”  I shouted with my arms flaring all around me.  “Fuck your moms, I hope she dies while sucking George Bush’s dick!”  My anger was making me jump all over the place, to where they couldn’t get a firm grab on me. “Fucking shame on you bitches, turning me in, knowing what those fuckers are going to do to me!” I was becoming uncontrollable and I knew it.

I broke loose from the group and started running again.  I ran towards my house, through Kid Cudi’s back yard and I rapped on his side door.

“I need your help, they’re going to take me away.”

“You’re safe here, the cops are on their way.”  Right as he said that two cops were approaching his front yard, both dressed in 70’s polyester suits, one tan and one charcoal.  Following the cops were two of the right-hand men of the cartel leader.

“Oh fuck me.  I thought you said I was safe.”

“You know I had to do this.  I need to protect my children.”

“Kid, this time, tomorrow, I’m going to put a bullet right through your fucking head.  Believe you me, I’m going to kill you.”  He looked at me and couldn’t believe what I said.  The unsnapped me would’ve never said this.  He stared at me with a frazzled look on his face.

The cops gently guided me through the side of my neighbor’s house and up the street.  Through only my ears, Carl Orff’s Carmina Burana began.  I knew where they were taking me.  O FORTUNA.  Nothing good was going to come from this.  VELUT LUNA.  I abandoned all thoughts of salvation, deliverance and rescue.  STATU VARIABILIS.  I had the will to live, and I was going to ensure just that.  SEMPER CRESCIS…  As we approached the front door to the cartel house, I pulled my 14 inch, 9 inch sharpened, 1/4 inch thick 420 J2 stainless steel blade with a saw back from my right back pocket.  While I fastened my grip onto the hollow aluminum cord handle, I felt around my torso with my left hand to make sure I was equipped with my M2 Browning MG, my AK47, M60 MG, an RPG and lastly I check my back to make sure my bow and arrows were intact.  I knew what I had to do.  No one was going to come out of this alive, except me.

And the mass carnage begins, SORS SALUTIS!  I used my saw-toothed bowie knife and sliced both the cops’ necks as if they were attached.  I held my AK in my left and my M60 in my right, and I went to town.  In health and virtue, driven on and weighted down, always enslaved.

I used every weapon I had.  I used them against cops, drivers, messengers, pushers, dealers, buyers, cartel leaders and their families… it didn’t matter if they were men or women or children or infants.  Everyone in this house was left without a breath.  I knew the only way I could survive was to be the last one living.  I showered in blood, and there was no fear, no oppression.  It melts them like ice, monstrous and empty, the whirling wheel which is malevolent, well-being is vain and always fades to nothing.

After fate struck down and the weeping ceased, I was left with silence.  It was a safe silence.  I wiped my face with my blood-saturated sleeve, and I walked out the front door.  One more thing left to do.  I set up my sniper rifle on the porch.  Through the telescopic sight, I aimed at my target, which walked outside to get the paper.  I pulled the trigger and it raced through his right temporal out his left.  I told you, Kid Cudi, I told you I’d kill you.  I walked down the street to my house.  I never felt so secure, so protected.  

I can live without fear.  I smile.

AND THEN I WOKE UP.