Maybe I should present my family first; there was my mother, a woman with dark hair, powerful mentality even when she was a wrong and very Marmite individual.
One day, she made me promise that after she dies, I will continue to brush my teeth and keep behaving well just the way she educate me ( at that point I was trying to remember in which hand the fork or the knife goes when guests are presents at the table.) it didn’t help at all.
She had cancer.
About two months later I was starring at the her own blood, this time not on papere, but on gravel, on the side of the road. I can never understand why her blood was still there and I was very angry.
Maybe the earth was saying something , the gravel painted or stained in red by mother’s blood is not easy to remove or not able absorb the blood molecules and rendering the rain useless.
I am not a chemist but I could pee on it and breakdown the pink colour or stomp on the gravel , it was less than 1 square meter in size.
I just stood there , a piece of human shit , trying not to show that a 13 years old can be a man, I blamed my own mother for her own death.
I miss my mother and it is getting harder to remember her face. People are using photographs or videos to see deceased people, but nothing can bring them back.
If you have children and you are not (saved) or shaved, never kiss your children, they will hate it.If you have a beard, just hug them. Religion can help if you are an imbecile and afraid.
I have never failed to understand what is the right thing to do but do I find it really hard to do it, so instead I choose to do what’s pleasing me rather than what I should do. I know it, because I can feel the guilt, and then I ignore it.
After my mother died, for the next few years, I went to bed with my heart full of fear, that when I wake up, I will be the one who will find her dead.
Sometimes I just want to punch God in the face and buy my own ticket to hell. God fucked up everything he created. I hate God more than HE hates me.