Original Draft – Friday 7/3/2015
If I wasn’t doing something that was helping kill me, I felt I was doing something wrong. I was so afraid to die…I was so afraid of eternal torture…I was so afraid of never ending pain so severe just the thought drove me insane. I clearly heard the voices of my loved ones crying out in pain as they described the awful details of hell and the tortures of the day. A place of breaking bones and gushing blood, and skin being ripped to shreds in plain sight. Everything they loved they were made to hate. At the same time, I saw them right in front of my face and they looked perfectly okay.
What confusion? I would be talking about the weather with someone right in front of me, but their voice from hell would speak of the physical tortures being conducted for the day, as shit was being shoveled down their throat and their children were being raped. And the demons said they couldn’t wait to see me, because my punishment would be the most severe. Until then, my Dad was getting it the worst, while they were playing golf with his face.
Smoking crack was one of the only things that distracted my mind. When I was high I felt I could bear the pain and insanity a tiny bit better. Searching for that next hit was way better than hearing my loved ones freeze to death in hell while the demons ate their brains. One day when I was hating my Son’s mother Amy, I heard his innocent voice scream out in pain, “Hate me Dad!” Like hating Amy here on Earth…in hell it was actually helping ease her pain.
If you understand for even a moment the broken heart I experienced, do me and your self a favor….just forget.
P.S. My Son and I are both Gifts from God created from pure love to be only pure love. We were not supposed to ever know pain.
