(delayed) 01/17/23 Writing Prompt: What do you wish you spent more time doing five years ago?


Five years ago, I wish I was doing this.

Keeping a blog.

That’s it.

And writing. Of course.

I write often, though I do not publish everything I write.

Some of it is… eh. Well, a “side.”

My “sides” are essentially literary side pieces.

I write everywhere. I literally bike to the beach (It’s 12 miles).

I am terrible at tracking things. I prefer to just do. I know what I want to do, so I create small bite sized ways to tackle it. I do not allow non-priorities to interfere. My health and goals come first.

Everything else second unless it’s emotionally special to me, like tending to my pokemon or catering to the occassional requests from friends and family, or the super long random conspiracy conversations with my cousin, or admiring the sheer fact that Ariana Grande exists on this planet. I refuse to believe that she’s human. Talent, intelligence and beauty without being trashy are hard to come by.

Anyway, the only person I ever prioritized over myself never put me first.

They did with words, but their actions were more like, “Oh, I just be glad even fucking made you breakfast.”

Me: “It takes 7 years to learn how make sunny side up eggs crispy on the bottom?”

Response: “Fuck you. You’re never happy.”

Me: “Dude, it’s eggs. Just watch me do it. Ask how it’s done. Be fucking proactive.”

Response: “Oh my fucking god. It’s eggs and breakfast.”

Me: “The most important part of my day and you don’t care. Hpw do you expect this to last when you ruin my mornings and tell me to be cool with it? I make both of our breakfasts, I make lunch and dinner, and I wake up before you, and I exercise, and I help you with work, and I have work to do myself. I can’t keep up like this. Love is not enough. You take more than you give. And, when you do give, it’s a trinket. I want your time and conscious effort.”

Response: “I have other things to do. If you don’t like this, then leave. If you leave, where will you go? You literally have no family to go to. They all suck. Where will you run off to? If you think you can leave, then go!”

Me: (fuck. This is the best I can do for myself. She sounds like my dad hitting my mom and siblings and yelling that it isn’t abuse as he plays mind games and roars, “Call fucking DFAS if you think this is abuse! This isn’t abuse! WHAT I HAD WAS ABUSE! MY LIFE WAS HARD! ME! YOu don’t know ANYTHING ABOUT PAIN OR ABUSE BECAUSE YOU WILL NEVER HAVE IT WORSE THAN ME!”) “OK, well, please help me keep the cat litter out of our bed. It’s piss and shit on the cat’s paws. I mean we can compromise on a litter-free–“

Response: “I will train the cat to use the toilet.”

Me: “I trained the cat to bathe. Don’t do that unless you’re going to reinforce it. Cat’s are not like dogs. They don’t remember shit they don’t care about. The cat does not care to be trained to use a toilet. Look at him.” (Points to chillin’ cat doin’ what he wants while ignoring his surroundings.)

This was an every other day thing, like me complaining that I cooked, cleaned and did the dishes, and bathed the cat, and literally was man-made for a woman who neglected me at every turn to reinforce that she was special. There were no compromises unless I compromised in her direction.

I thought this was normal. She didn’t use my name. Literally, beckoned me with snaps, kisses, and “hey” like a dog. I complained for nearly a decade and stated something was wrong. I kept getting told it was just me.

I believed it. Legit, believed this was normal because my biggest fear in that relationship was that I would be my dad, and she’d be my mom. It turned out to be the opposite. She’d sent texts from my phone to my family members and friends without telling me. She’d get angry when I’d say, “Yo, you can’t just do that. Tell me first, or ask. That’s a huge invasion of my shit.” She’d get angry, stop and call me names and curse me out for asserting that I wasn’t something she could just do that to. Overtime, she kept creeping her power over me.

Anyway, I went a while losing my mind. I thought it was everything else. Nope, it was just that relationship. That relationship demotivated me, uninspired me and ate me up from the inside. I kept wondering, “I lived in NJ, PA, SC, CA, and went to 5 different schools, and 3 different high schools. I speak 4 languages decently. I was a Marine. I have my Master’s. Everyone treats me how I want to be treated except this woman. What the hell did I do wrong? I’ll prove to her I am worthy! She keeps telling me that I am wrong about everything. If I see a red car, she tells me, “That’s actually a sedan, and it’s orange red.” or “I don’t see that at all. You’re wrong.” as I see and hear said car leaving.

I learned about gaslighting and ket trying to tell this person they were gaslighting me. I kept reading psychology papers, white papers, and watching video on healthy emotional and relationship management. I sent her everything, so we can discuss our relationship issues in a practical manner. Never happened. We just kept playing the “I know, and I promise to change” game.

For a long time, I pretended I was perfectly fine because I didn’t what to do. Then, we moved. I helped a relative who was getting criticized by other relatives who had never seen or been in shock themselves. I realized, “Oh shit. I’ve been in shock since she socked me in the back of the head. I’m scared she’s going to be a dishonest weasel who kills me. All signs point to it. All her behavior points to it. How many more times does she have to break a promise, hit me, cheat on me, and ignore me, and devalue me until I realize this isn’t for me?”

Anyway, I exercise all day because I have tremendous physical pain due to a surgery gone wrong in the Marine Corps.

I dislocated my shoulder, tore my rotator cuff and ripped my labrum. It was a bad injury left unchecked.

I eventually lost feeling in my right hand. I constantly feel pain in my upper back and between my neck and shoulder area.

It hurts more when I am inactive. I got obese for a while, going from 180 to 235 or so.

I love food and love beer.

It simply does not work for me to be inactive. I cannot hold a steady desk job because of how bad it hurts and how often I need to move and stretch. Also, I hate corporate people who think vacationing and short bursts of things as as good as actually doing something. I started a business with my previous spouse. Most employers see people as tools to advance their agenda. No one except a very, very, very, very small few ever know what a corporate entity is up to.

And, then, you have all factions competing for power within the company, and people competing within those factions/groups. It’s like they don’t have actual lives so they use work to find their entertainment when TV doesn’t cut it. I can’t do it. I can’t live on the weekend. I need to be alive every day.

I also need several miles daily as leisurely as possible because I have PTSD, Severe Anxiety, and Severe Depression. No need to get into the details. It’s terrible stuff though.

I used to scream all night until medication and therapy.

I am grateful my ex-wife (girlfriend at the time) was so patient with me in that regard. She needed her sleep. It was not easy for her to hear me erupt randomly screaming and crying all night.

Some military and most childhood/teenage stuff.

Ex, I got jumped once and these dudes nearly clawed my eyes out. My dad was happy I won.

We never talked about it or discussed therapy.

We just acted like, “That happens. Deal with it,” without any empathy behind it.

I got punched in the back of the head for breaking up a fight; some dude grabbed my fro, stuck his fingernails in my eyes, and scraped them. I had to wear sunglasses for months.

I never talked about it at school to avoid making my parents look bad.

This was part of the reason my wife socking me in the back of the head bothered me so much. She knew everything about me, and repeated the worst things I had ever experienced. Then, she refused to own up to it. I didn’t expect that, then I observed her family. All the older members of her family. I realized we were going to be her grandparents if I stayed with her. They are easily the nastiest people I have ever met. Downright ignorant, racist, credit/ money hungry scoundrels with little respect or regards for basic human rights, dignities and perspectives. The rest weren’t that different. I liked them, but you know white people who never leave their circles. Anything unwhite ain’t right. Yet, they hate everything white. So, it’s like they hate to not hate because they were taught love is bad. Wild shit.

Anyway, when I got jumped, I just looked like an edgy weird kid. I got arrested. Fought with the cops. I was 14.

A relative of mine killed another relative when I was 17. It wasn’t and couldn’t be traumatizing because I didn’t see it. I was just at this relative’s house a few months ago.

My mom left because empathy did not exist in my house unless it went one way. Another thing we never talked about. We never addressed anything emotional.

My dad still doesn’t recognize what he did wrong.

It was weak, unnecessary, or a bad time. Terrible shit. This was my entire life. I didn’t know this was wrong. It was what allowed me to get into a very toxic relationship where I was never called by my name for nearly a decade. I was summoned with two kisses or a shout, like a dog. I genuinely thought that was normal. Then, I learned it’s not.

Trauma can arise from anything. Moving a lot, losing friends, getting into fights, boot camp, reading horror, watching horror, literally anything. The worst a parent can do is knowingly be too hard or too soft for the respective child because they never learn the soul of their kid.

If they’re your kid, you should care enough to notice. If you don’t, you’ll teach them to be the same. They’ll do meaningless shit.

Anyway, I need to move, a lot.

I often walk or jog or bike to the beach, at a random time. I used to do the 5 am thing, but that’s stupid. I don’t need a schedule.

I drink and smoke weed. I have learned that people who are sober for non health reasons, are hiding shit and they don’t want to lose enough control to let it out. Never trust someone who is willingly sober at all times. They are fearful because they know they can’t be trusted so they assume no one else, but them can be trusted. Wild shit.

Personally, I feel that therapy is beneficial for specific, niche things that are job related.

I have met people who are therapists who are sexual opportunists with literally no soul.

You can’t vet it or them as some have learned to play long games.

You don’t see it, unless you’ve seen it. Some people are great pretenders. So great that they don’t even know they’re pretending. It’s wild.

Anyway, pic is on a bike at a super leisurely pace. I could push and go twice as fast with no issues.

3x as fast, and then, I am definitely going to need to stretch and sleep, then eat pounds of food and the best sex of my life, and video games.

Usually, churrasco from Norman’s Tavern and salad. My absolute favorite.

I have travelled literal continents and I am a biracial Dominican who lived all over the US as an ethnically ambiguous person. White people don’t know what culture is. No one who reads about culture in a book knows what it is. An avid reader who doesn’t go and live it is just a perverted voyeur looking for shortcuts in order to satisfy their internal gluttony.

I can say without a doubt that the churrasco as Norman’s Tavern is the best churrasco in Miami.

I have eaten many steaks at many places, and hands down, Norman’s Tavern is one of the best bars and, legit, the best restaurant I have ever been to.

I go most karaoke nights, every Wednesday from 10 pm to 2 am.

Anyway, thanks for reading my stuff. I have had tons of different experiences and these writing prompts are my therapy.

I have witnessed atrocities I will never share in full detail to anyone out of respect for the experiences themselves and those involved–if any one or thing had happened to be involved. If that makes sense. I would hope so if you read this far down.

I am not sure what I am good at as a writer, so feedback goes along way. I enjoy and absolutely love philosophical horror. I like to question the limits of my own fears. I do not like to test my morality. I do not cave and ticks other people off. My biggest fear is having the perfect life. I wouldn’t know how to tell if I am performing as expected of me.

Thanks for reading this far down.

Just so you know me better, my biggest fear is having a life that’s perfect for me: filled with love, creativity, laughter, romance, and affection without strings or dubiousness. I am genuinely afraid of honest, authentic love because I do not believe it exists. Not in a romance movie kinda way, but in a “Anyone who says I love you to me just wants something they aren’t telling me. She wants to steal my credit, bone a friend/sibling, own me in some capacity, or she just wants to pass the time and thinks I am handsome enough until something better comes around.”

Anyway, thanks again for reading this.

I have always wanted to share my life and thoughts.

My civilian friends tell me I jump subjects too much for them, but really it’s an experience thing.

My military friends (High ranking guys at this point. We served together when I was wee devil pup before hitting the fleet and being a legit Devil Dog.) and I can speak about anything and everything, even jump subjects. I have found that the less dynamic a person is as a child, the less dynamic they are as adults.

If you have kids, teach them there is no particular lane for anyone to stay in. They can master one or two things that are interconnected with 15 others, and gradually learn about each as they go so long as they are mindful as to how those concepts and subjects are correlated. I worked a ton of jobs at a ton of places and I have deduced that people learn best when they get how the little pictures fit into the big picture.

Just my two cents.

Thanks for reading.



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