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The Comfort House Chronicles: The Dark Entropic

written by: RayFed

@Raymond_Federle

 

The room was dark and a voice cried out "I'm gonna hit you so hard, that cartoon words will suddenly appear to cover up the physical violence I am going to do to you."

Thinking back on my childhood I begin to realize that I really had no place in the world with this family. Mom and Dad were not very nice people and had major drug problems. Plus the fact they were fucking assholes. Raised by my Father's grandparents. Despised by other immediate family. Viewed as a dysfunctional interloper into and already dysfunctional family unit. My time growing up was one of mere tolerance, disdain and burden. Always there, always weighing the family down. Hushed whispers about the truth of my existence between aunts and uncles and cousins. Always begrudgingly included and always certainly made to be left behind while the others had their fun. I was the anchor. The adopted stone. Holding down and holding back the enjoyment and advancement of others. So I must suffer their rage and frustration and suffer it I did.

Name calling and bullying, broken toys, and physical abuse. Mental abuse as well and all because I simply existed through no fault of my own. It's only years later... now that many suppressed memories are coming back and all of them unpleasant. I face what I can on a day-to-day basis and days where it all becomes too much I run for the safety of Ativan and Gabapentin and mind-numbingly sit and play video games till nothing stirs in my brain but white noise.

As I got older I started to notice certain things that were going on with me. Had I seen it or heard about it as if another person was experiencing it I would have immediately said PTSD. We so often attribute PTSD with those that may have suffered through the tragedy of war or natural disaster but we so often forget those that have suffered physical abuse at the hands of a family member. Time really does heal all wounds, and you learn to cope, deal and soon to function beyond the PTSD, the memories of ass-whooping, smacks to the side of the head. The beatings, all out of nowhere, suddenly, unwarranted, landing like an artillery shell right on your face. Explosive and damaging far beyond the physical realm. As far-reaching as the rest of my life will carry me. They say that you must learn to forgive but that's a process I never want to have. Never will I forget or forgive and if there is a hell in the after life I hope that fucker is in it and there's a special place for him there.

My hope comes from Ativan, Gabapenten, sometimes Dilaudid. Maybe, occasionally a frozen mixed drink pouch from Walmart. Sleep comes in sweet, dreamless, soft, all-encompassing pharmaceutical blankets that I cuddle in and with its toasty warm mind numbness I find peace, and solace. And after I took enough drugs all the pain and seizures subsided leaving me feeling as empty as the pill bottles and empty casings on the floor. But I was alive and that .... had to count for something.

My heart was already on the other side. I just needed a way to move the rest of me there. It's hard to exit from that perfect moment. It pulls you in and plays itself over and over in your head. There's a terrible wanting need to be touched and to touch. The way lovers do when lying close to one another. My hands, cold and longing for the feel of warm flesh in their grasp. Tracing, delicately sliding along living tissue. Glory in the senses of touch. My love is always lost. Just a bit out of reach and it's ever so maddening never to touch it.

My body is so broken, beyond physical repair. No hope for recovery. I'm so tired it hurts to move. It just makes me hate the world more and it just makes me hate myself more and more. It makes me hate everyone who's happy and successful. Those perfect families, with their perfect kids, going on perfect vacations, posting pics of the wonderful time they had. All the wonderful places people go and the exciting things they do. Those perfect little romances that happen and those school crushes that turn into wonderful marriages and people who can keep their shit together.

I got left behind as a child as a school mate, as a friend, as a husband, as a father and I'm finding new and interesting ways to fuck up a terminal illness. Where is my way in all this? What was the purpose of all this? I only wanted to be included. I only wanted some acceptance.

So many people denied me that back then as a child and the emotional wrecks of yesterday is where people like me continue to live them on daily in our thoughts and at night in our dreams. I thrive on them. They are the life preservers of tomorrow. Some of you left me adrift and drowning in the ocean of false friendship and some of you went out of your way to make life miserable. I've never forgotten anything. Sometimes memories are what keep me going. Other days I wonder.....  Maybe sleep comes later and total dreamless unconsciousness till morning. My ability to function hinges on those times where life becomes a chemical black hole of forgetfulness and therein can I carry on normally and laugh and smile at the sunshine on my face.

I knew that existence was subjective. Life truly is what you make it. I now understand the world is a psychotic schizophrenic. Psychopathic with sexual, cannibalistic, PTSD and identity disorders.

Seems silly to think about all that now. There were darker places to discover within the imprisoned me. It had always been dark in there and the voice never stopped taunting. Ever since he was trapped in this god forsaken place. He kept thinking and he didn't know why. What was the point? Fat and stupid and dumb .... ... because no one can ever really change who they are on the inside. Maybe it was boredom or maybe he was trying to remember something. Remember, what was the point? His name, his job, his life gone. All because of this room. This damn room. What the hell had he done to deserve this fate. Where is the door? Why try. It's locked, and you know it is. Maybe someone would hear him. The walls were thick and padded. Nothing was getting out or in. Most times I never meant to cause any harm, but suddenly there were times that sent my soul screaming and I needed to intervene for the sake of providence .. and then sometimes I just wanted to cause chaos. Chaos. Where did he read about chaos?

"And all of Nether emptied out in one great, gloriously, evil belch and all the Devils came here to us because there was such fun to be had the like of which that had NEVER been seen in Heaven or Hell." - The Hangman's Knot

The first thing you lose when you start to give up on love is a sense of family. If indeed it was not destroyed within the dysfunctional-ism of the family to begin with. This then leads to lack of love, trust and commitment issues later on when attempting to become romantically involved with someone. It's a sorry state of affairs to attach oneself to another knowing that there is only failure and heartbreak at the end. I suppose it's expected of most people that they should settle down and pop out a brood of children. In moments of despair I find that the closer the pill bottles are to the bed the more comfortable I sleep. I am far, far away from me. Through hills & valleys of thought have I walked & walked them in measured steps that are unending.

I guess dying alone would be better that dying in front of someone. All that gagging and gurgling and farting and shitting everywhere. Ew! Internet and cable have been down for the last 12 hours. I have officially lost my shit. Vehicle crash took out power and cable poles last night at 6:30 - 7 pm EST. It JUST now came back on this minute.

I'm not going to dress up for Halloween this year. Just going to lie around like always stare into the abyss and slip slowly into madness.

All those naps I didn't take in kindergarten I want them all back right now.

It is the curse of man to seek glory in battle. Even worse, he cannot realize the hopelessness of his attempts. Oh, he may feel some regret, cutting down a mother and child, a warrior may feel that the blood staining his hands will never wash away but the human race forgets all the shame and pain of taking a life, blinded by ...the ideals of victory. Such was the fate of mankind. To destroy itself. They never comprehended just how close to that destruction they truly were.

Do you hear that? ........That's the call of a wild me... not giving a fuck.

Now that I'm all grown up I'm watering my house plants instead of smoking them.

Instead of going to therapy, I’m using buzzfeed quizzes to figure out my life.

When I was younger I'd wake up and say "Holy shit, I'm alive." Now that I'm much older when I wake up I say, "Awe shit, I'm alive."

What type of comedian am I? One of the cool ones that over analyzes everything & by asking I've answered my question.

I'm thinking about getting a cat ...
... or a small retarded dog.

So after a weekend of anxiety and panic attacks I managed to pull myself together and get back on routine. I promised myself 3 laps around my apartment building and I did 4. See I always promise myself what I know I can do, then I always try to do one more. Now next time I will promise myself 4 laps around the apartment building and try for 5. That took about 21 min to do... so I came up and got on the excer-bike and did almost 10 min on the low setting before my legs gave out.
I've always believed that emotion ties directly in with the physical. As the saying goes, healthy body healthy mind, cleanliness is next to Godliness, happy wife happy life. Ok, well, 2 out of three ain't bad and that fucking bitch can go fuck herself.
My health like many other people is tied to my emotional well being. Coming from a shit family, with shit lives it's no wonder that I am in the condition that I'm in today..... BUT the blame only goes so far and at some point you have to pull your panties up, put on your big boy, or big girl pants and start taking responsibility for yourself, for your actions, and for that inordinately large ass behind your back.

Can I get a prayer!!!!
When I was alone you comforted me.
When I was so very sad you made me smile.
In times of need you were there in my hand.
When the world laughed at me you made me take that frown and turn it up side down and laugh right back at the world.
When they said I wouldn't run wild naked up the interstate you gave me the courage to do it. AMEN! Thank you Jose Cuervo. From the bottom of my heart thank you!

Sorry everyone. Panic attack. Fight or flight mode activated. Bunkered down for the last 15 hours. More later. Time to go back and hide in my pillow fort. This liquid diet of vodka, NyQuil, SlimFast, and tears is really working for me. Life doesn't ever hold anything back. When it comes... it comes crashing down around you, crushing you till you can't breathe. I deactivated my Twitter... too fucking toxic, too miserable, fucking losers.

Everything fails 100% of the time. Everything is shit again.. always shit. I must have been a real asshole in my last life.

I'm missing a page out of my thesaurus so I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about that.
Whew.. That was nice. Air out all your dirty laundry and get that personal private shit off your chest.
NOW SHUT THE FUCK UP NO ONE CARES.
Can I get an AMEN and PRAYERS, a LIKE, and a SHARE and a smiley emoji and an amusing GIF, because somewhere, something bad is happening to some people and vegetarianism, glue is made from horse hooves, a sack of puppies in a lake, and the floor is lava. God Bless!

People say they want you to be happy but what they really want is for you to be the version of yourself that makes them most comfortable. What you all have failed to realize is that there is no end to my weirdness or how far I am willing to go to impose my weirdness on you.

I didn't know what was inside me anymore. Nor could I express desire of any outward kind. I was an aging lump of flesh just passing the time till the end. However he kept thinking......

RayFed

RayFed

I've always been a jack of all trades. I've been a poet, author, social commentator, comedian, online gamer, pod cast host, and Youtuber. I've had a class A license to drive semi truck over the road. I've worked as a chef, manager and all kitchen positions in hundreds of restaurants over the years. I've traveled in Mexico, Canada and through 37 of the 50 states. I've been a volunteer firefighter in Florida, where I grew up. I've fished the waters of the Gulf of Mexico and saw the far distant coast line of Cuba before its recent opening to the west. I've married, had 4 kids, divorced, got CKD stage 6 (end stage renal failure) Survived a stroke, mild heart attack, MRSA, blood clots and now chronic heart failure. Fully disabled and home bound, the internet is my social outlet, and window on the world. I go to dialysis three times a week, I watch movies, play video games and chat with people on social media. Writing is my catharsis for a life that is now spent measuring the time I have left, less the tomorrows that may never be.
RayFed

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