Life as we know it

   Life. It's made up, mashed together and processed and pushed into intestinal tubing. That's my interpertation of it. Simply, life is a hot dog. It's full of leftover unwanted shit and you get to make the most of it and either spin it into gold, or wallow in lips and assholes.
   I'm a mid-carder myself. I've set up a nice little life for myself, and my family. Though I may never see all my dreams come true the most important ones have. I've overcome alot of the assholes in my 39 years and removed them from my life. Some easily fading into the past, others painfully torn off my skin like a malnurished leech.

   There have a good share of lips as well. You know what I mean. The accumulation of negatives laced with just enough pity for you to listen and swallow hard. Those lips have been shut and I hope never to hear from them again.
   In high school I was a loner, the bullied boy, nobodies friend. My confidence was at an all-time low, and depression became my bunkmate for too many years. Now, my confidence is higher, my tolerance of bullies is at zero, and my opinion finally matters... to me.
  So, at 39 years old my "life" is finally breaking out of it's skin. I'm finally ready to try and spin some gold.

Closed doors (for now)

   Jack is now just over three months old now. He's still as laidback as ever. He only cries when he needs something such as a bottle, or diaper change. His many "Aunts" & "Uncles" love, and adore him. And every day when I get home from work he greets me with a smile and talks his talk with great enthusiasm. Jack is a happy baby boy.

   In the last year we've had two great losses. My wife's parents both passed away. Two great, loving people that Jack will never get the opportunity to know. I know they would have loved him so much, and he would have responded in kind. As he gets older he will know them, through stories, and pictures. In videos and old memories, Jack will know his grandparents.
  At the moment my side in the family perspective has chosen to 'close the door' on me. After being stripped of every shred of patientence I had over the past year, or so, it seems I'm not allowed to stand up for myself. Whether it be a fictitious tale that others seem determined to hold onto because they want to believe it so badly. Or, it being a selective memory blown out of proportion. I appear, in they're eyes as the 'bad one'.
  Petty bull that it seems can't be forgotten, or forgiven because a strong trend of stubbornness and martyrdom. Better to be right than to be wrong no matter what the consequences I guess. So what do I do? I do nothing. In my determination, no matter my choice it will be twisted to the negative.
  Sadly my son Jack may never get to know his family. He may only get to know them through stories, and pictures. In videos and old memories, Jack will know them.