Archive for the 'abuse' Category

04
Jul
09

have you seen my childhood?

To me, this is THE most poignant song Michael Jackson every wrote. I have always loved it and cried when I hear it…because *I* lost my childhood as well…I am child-like…I am also eccentric and misunderstood….*sigh* anyhow…Have you seen MY childhood?

Childhood

Have you seen my Childhood?
I’m searching for the world that I come from
‘Cause I’ve been looking around
In the lost and found of my heart…
No one understands me
They view it as such strange eccentricities…
‘Cause I keep kidding around
Like a child, but pardon me…

People say I’m not okay
‘Cause I love such elementary things…
It’s been my fate to compensate,
for the Childhood
I’ve never known…

Have you seen my Childhood?
I’m searching for that wonder in my youth
Like pirates in adventurous dreams,
Of conquest and kings on the throne…

Before you judge me, try hard to love me,
Look within your heart then ask,
Have you seen my Childhood?

People say I’m strange that way
‘Cause I love such elementary things,
It’s been my fate to compensate,
for the Childhood I’ve never known…

Have you seen my Childhood?
I’m searching for that wonder in my youth
Like fantastical stories to share
The dreams I would dare, watch me fly…

Before you judge me, try hard to love me.
The painful youth I’ve had

Have you seen my Childhood...

Advertisements
30
Jun
09

Part II

This is part II to last night’s post HERE . Last night, exposing myself and one of my “secrets” was painful, so I had to stop writing. I want say a few more things…so here is the second part.

So yes, I touched on Michael having BDD, being OCD, being sexually and physically abused. But what I didn’t quite touch on was his evident eating disorder and drug abuse. You see…most abused children grow up with major mental issues. And a lot of the issues revolve around CONTROL. When we are kids, when we are ABUSED kids, we feel ourselves spiraling out of control. We are at the mercy of our abuser(s) and as we grow up, we feel the INTENSE need to CONTROL our own lives. In my life I controlled my world by controlling the pain by cutting and scarring. I was addicted to heroin, but I used most any drug you can name, anything to kill the pain. I tried to kill myself more times than I want to admit, I was SO self destructive…Michael controlled his pain by changing his appearance, anorexia (he weighed about 108 pounds at the time of his death) and abuse of prescription drugs.

Self medicating is common among abuse survivors, I think with Michael he got injured…he was given pain meds and he realized that maybe “Hey, if I take this (insert drug here, demerol, oxycontin, etc.) I feel numb and foggy and I don’t care.” I mean look at footage of him at his trial, most times his security had to hold him up, he was very frail and very disoriented…

And now, unfortunately HIS abuser is trying to gain custody of his children. How fucking scary. Will he abuse those kids and cause another generation of body dsymorphic, anorexic, prescription drug abusers who die before their time? I HOPE to God there was a will and Joe and Katherine don’t get these kids. I think Katherine loved her son, BUT she allowed Joe to abuse him and the other kids…she’s an ENABLER..she didn’t save her son(s) from abuse, so she is as guilty for Michael’s life (and death) as Joe is.

You know…I have to say FUCK YOU to the abusers of the world. You fuck us up and you leave us to slowly kill ourselves, while you go on with your life like nothing is wrong (can you say Joe Jackson CNN interviews anyone?) YOU FUCK US UP, YOU RUIN US!!!  I pray those kids aren’t left with Michael’s mom and dad….

Ok enough pain for today. I have a doctors appointment and I have to go shower.

I’m out.

29
Jun
09

from one abused child to another…to another…….

I’ve been in a heavy state of thinking all weekend…I had something happen to me, which I don’t think I am ready to say to the public just yet, but it made me realize a few things…

I now know what was wrong with Michael Jackson. Everyone always saying he had plastic surgery to “look like Diana Ross”…to “look like his sisters”….”Because he didn’t want to look like his father.” Well, I know now why he did what he did. He had Body Dysmorphic Disorder. Body Dsymorphic Disorder is a serious illness. I was diagnosed with it when I was young. Symptoms are having a problem with the way you look, being preoccupied with imaginary flaws…usually of the hair, skin, nose, facial lines, etc. Having a lot of anxiety over ones looks…getting cosmetic surgery, spending too much time focusing on the “flaws”, excessive grooming, suicidal thoughts, social phobias, shy, neurotic…you get the picture..

Most people with BDD think they are “ugly” or that people will be mean to them because of the imagined flaws. With me, I hated being PRETTY. I felt my looks caused my abuse and I dreamed of ways to ruin myself so I would be considered “untouchable” and the abuse would stop. I still think of cutting up my face to ruin it…..some days it’s hard to get through with out doing it. So I cut other parts of my body…

Body Dysmorphic Disorder is considered an Obsessive Compusive Disorder, which I was also diagnosed with at a young age. I am sure Michael was OCD…

Over 75% of people with BDD (mild or severe) report being abused as children.

In my case, I cut, I scar…I have fantasies of cutting my face up so I will be “ugly” to people and they won’t abuse me anymore. I think for Michael he wanted to be anything but the boy who was abused, who was pushed to be perfect…I also think Michael was sexually abuse…I KNOW he was. I feel it…as someone who is a survivor.

After seeing Joe Jackson’s interview it really hit me just how much of an asshole he is. I mean we ALL know he abused Michael, he admitted it himself…but do we really know HOW far it went? I think it went further than anyone can imagine and I HOPE one day, one of the kids speaks out…I hope they free themselves of the secrets in that family.

No matter what YOU think of Michael Jackson, if you think of the life he led, the way he was put out there to perform (IN PERFECTION) at such a young age, the way the boys were beaten by their father if they weren’t perfect…you have to feel bad for Michael. Again, I came to a lot of realizations this weekend that I just can’t discuss right now, but I feel a kin-ship with Michael now…I feel bad for him and I am sorry he died such a tragic death and now his leech of a father is going to use his death to try and make more money for himself. Hell I wouldn’t be surprised if the bastard tired to sell autospy photos of his SON…

Ok I am a bit upset right now, I just exposed some stuff about myself that was extremely difficult. I need to go spend time with my wife and feel better…..

Please, don’t be spouting mean things on this post, it will just piss me off. If you can’t say anything nice right now about M.J. just don’t say anything at all.

04
Jun
09

my talk show tonight! (please read)

Tonight at 6:00pm Eastern time I will be having my talk show. Tonight’s subject is Child Abuse And It’s Affect On Adult Survivors. You can join the chat and listen to the show by going to my show page HERE.

I would love for you to call in and talk with me about your experiences OR to ask me questions about my abuse, my blog, etc. The number to call in is : (646) 716-9673 , that is a permanent number for my show so you can always use it when I am on the air.

Tonight’s show is very important to me and I hope it will be to you. I want to hear your experiences, your thoughts.  Even if you aren’t a survivor/victim and you advocate or have strong opinions on this issue please call in!

I also have an official website for my show. I am working on the layout and content now and when it is ready to be unveiled I will give you all the link. I plan on having a forum for survivors there, a safe place we can all talk privately. Again, I will let you know when I launch it! 🙂

Hope to see you all at my show in just a few short hours!

~V

19
May
09

the face of child abuse………

trigger

I am warning everyone now this post is graphic, horrifying AND triggering. If you, like me, have been or are a victim of child abuse please know this is very, very, VERY triggering. It has taken me an hour and a half to be able to be calm enough to write this blog, but I feel it NEEDS to be seen.

So many times on the news we hear of a child being abused, raped, murdered by their abusers and we feel awful for that child, but we shake it off and go about our day. Why? Because we don’t SEE the abuse, the bruises, the cuts…so we CAN shake it off, forget it and move on. Well now you can’t, you will see the affects–you will FEEL it deep in your soul, you will cry, you will be outraged, you will not forget it.

So many people turn a blind eye to abuse, they suspect, yet they don’t call social services/child protective services. WHY? I will never understand how people can just let abuse go on, even if it’s only suspected, it should be CHECKED OUT. People don’t turn the other cheek, these children need a voice, they need protection, they need people like YOU to give a shit, to say NO MORE CHILD ABUSE. Call, CALL, CALL, CALL. Don’t walk away from it, YOU could save a child. You could save them from dying, you could save them from a life of abuse, you could save their minds, their bodies. Trust me, I am living proof of people ignoring the signs, the bruises, cuts, limping, sore–they could have saved me from this life of hell.  It’s not hard to pick up a phone and call, you can even do it anonymously, so what’s your excuse for not calling if you feel something isn’t right? There is NO excuse good enough.

Here are some links to sites that have numbers where you can call (most 24 hours a day). 

Phone Numbers For Reporting Suspected Abuse

No more excuses, it’s time to be pro-active. Enough child abuse!! ENOUGH! No child deserves to be hurt, no child deserves to be raped, no child deserves to DIE. I also beg you to lobby, write letters to your government officials and demand harsher punishment for child abusers. It only takes ONE voice to get the ball rolling. I do this, I advocate, I am pro-active…I never want another child to go through what I’ve had to endure…

This video as I warned before is triggering, it’s disturbing, but I felt it needed to be seen. I hope it shocks people into action. And now I am going to go try to shake this off ….

The Video:

17
May
09

anger and abuse….

angryThis post is inspired by a very nice lady who emailed me. I won’t give her name on here, because I am not sure if she would want that, but thank you for inspiring this blog.

She wrote me to say that she was very sorry for the abuse I’ve had to endure, she also said she and her bf were abused as well. She said she always thought it was best to forgive, until she read my blog, that she understood how I could be so angry. And she thanked me for showing her it was ok to be angry about being abused.

I say that forgive and forget stuff is crap. If you’ve been terribly abused like I have, you can’t forget and for me, I fucking sure can’t forgive, especially since it’s still on-going. If “Dad” had a chance he would rape me today. He calls me everyfuckingday, sometimes more than once. So you’re damn right I am angry and even IF my abuse had stopped as a teen, I would still be angry and I still wouldn’t forgive him. I honestly don’t understand how someone CAN forgive a person who has taken their innocence away, who brutalized their body, who scarred their body and mind. I just don’t get it. I am a very forgiving person, except with “Dad”. I am very fucking angry and at him I always will be.  I am angry they he stole my life, then I got struck down with cancer on top of everything. I’ve never had my OWN life. It’s always been clouded with him and his abuse of me. The abuse has shaped how I view the world, how I view other people. It’s made me suspicious of any one who looks twice at my kids. It’s shaped my sex life (well until I met D)…it’s made me a nervous, jumpy, paranoid person. So why should I forgive him?

If you’ve read back into my blog you will see that “Dad” pulled a fast one on me. Made me think he was “sorry” for all he’s done to me and I did try to forgive him–until he hurt me again. It was all just bullshit, he wasn’t sorry and he will never be sorry, so why should I give him the kindness of forgiving him? He doesn’t deserve it and I don’t think ANY person who hurts a child deserves it. They deserve to die, but they don’t deserve forgiveness.

She also asks me if I was angry “in person”. Yes, sometimes I am. I have intermittent explosive disorder. I have rages, but I never hurt my family, ever. I will tell them, if I am getting angry, just go away, leave me alone and I will get through it. I will hurt myself, slam my fist into a wall, tear at my hair, bite myself, cut myself, but I have never and would never hurt my kids, my wife or anyone in my family. They understand if I start to get really angry, to just walk away, that I will get over it in a few minutes and be the loving person that I usually am. And you see, “Dad” and his abuse caused these rages, so why should I forgive him? Don’t tell me to make myself feel better, because it won’t. I will still have the anger, the rage, the flashbacks, the black depressions, the suicidal thoughts, the cutting. Those are things he caused, why should I give him the kindness of forgiving him? Fuck that. I also believe that through my illness my rage inside has kept me alive. I’ve been given up for dead a few times and yet I pull through and keep going. Why is that? I think rage animates me, keeps me moving–I also think that subconsciously I want to see “Dad” either get his for hurting me or die.

I can forgive a lot of things and I can see people forgiving a lot of things, but the rape and abuse of children, teenagers, NO. I am sorry they don’t deserve it, the biggest majority of abusers/molestor’s aren’t remorseful, they never will be. So fuck forgiveness, give me anger anyday.

I’m out….

07
May
09

Q AND A time….(a LONG post)

Well, since I woke up in pain I figured I would write my first question and answer blog. I am STILL taking suggestions, so if there is something you want me to write about, just comment and tell me! The first question/suggestion was from my dear friend Butterfly (read her blog, it’s intense and awesome). She said:

Hi V,

If you’re taking requests, I would love to hear more about how you came to be you. What you used to do for a living, how you met your ex-wife, how you came to have a child, how you met D, all that. :-)

Butterfly

How I came to be me. Well, the story of my birth…how I came to be is that my “Dad” (the abuser) married my mother when they were both 19 years old. From what my Mama tells me and what other people have told me, he was a cheater from the beginning. Mama stayed and stayed, she put up with his cheating for years…then one day she was working (She was an ER nurse) and she met a beautiful man that  had moved to Louisville from Athens Greece just a few months before…he was enchanted with my Mama, he begged her to see him and finally she gave in. She tells me she honestly fell in love with this man Dimitri…she told me she felt no guilt being with him after all “Dad”‘ did, but this wasn’t a one night stand like “Dad”, it was true love. She ended up pregnant and she told my “Dad”. He begged and pleaded with her to stay, he apologized and Mama gave in to him–she stayed. He swore to her he would raise this child as his own. Mama believed him. This baby was born January 24–that baby was me.

Even though she had promised “Dad” she wouldn’t see my Papa again, she couldn’t stay away from him. So the times he was gone on business Mama and I stayed with Papa at his apartment and as I grew and grew Papa loved me more and more. I remember his love, his warmth, his smell…the way he would hug me…kiss me, the way he would say my name in that thick greek accent. I was happy when I was with him. I felt safe from “Dad” the one who promised to raise me as his own, only he didn’t love me, he was abusing me from the time I was a baby. When I was with my Papa, in his apartment, in his arms I was safe. I was safe from “Dad”, safe from the world. My Papa loved me.

When I was almost 5 years old my Papa got sick, he was diagnosed with brain cancer. I remember my Mama crying when she found out. I remember going to spend more and more time with him–I also remember watching my beloved Papa waste away……….

I remember crawling up in his hospital bed, not long before he died. “Dad” had beaten me pretty bad–I was so sore. Papa noticed–he couldn’t speak, he was too weak, but I saw in his eyes, he knew, he knew. I could see the pain…the anger. He was mad at “Dad” for hurting me, and he was mad at himself for having to leave me..

Ok this is hard, I have to take a break, crying too much…

*SIGH* Ok. Let me get through this part…I knew if Papa were healthy and strong he would have grabbed me up at that moment and taken me away from the abuse, from “Dad” and protect me and love me with everything in his body. Unfortunately he died a few days later, with me and my Mama at his side when he took his last breath……..For awhile, I was mad at my Papa, for leaving me, leaving me alone with “Dad”. I was scared, I missed my Papa, I missed the love, the unconditional love, the safety. My abuse only got worse–and my state of mind went to hell when “Dad” took my puppy that Papa gave me from me, my Frisky. That was the only thing left I had of my Papa and he took it. Anyhow, my abuse got worse, I got angrier. I started cutting myself when I was young, I remember when I was 6 thinking of what I could do to die…how I could kill myself and be with my Papa. I took a bottle of aspirin. The only thing I got for that was puking and a horrible ringing in my ears for days. I drank drain cleaner and ended up in the hospital for a couple of weeks…I kept living no matter what I did, so the cutting started to feel alive, to release the anger.

I was also being abused by a neighborhood “Christian” man who would tell me as he fucked my 6 year old body that GOD told him to do it. The abuse from this neighborhood man didn’t go on everyday, but at least once a week, I remember trying to tell “Dad” saying “Daddy, this man is hurting my butt.” What did “Dad” do? He told me to shut the fuck up and quit trying to get attention. So I had NO safe place to go. I was abused by this “Christian” bastard and by my “Dad” who was suppose to protect me. The abuse from “The Man” went on until I was almost 12. I was also passed around by my “Dad” as a child whore to his pedophile friends. I was a fuck toy to so many people. My life was filled with sex and tortures…

As I grew the abuse from “Dad” got worse and I grew into a teenager, it turned into a sick obsession. He thought he was my “lover” *shudder*. My suicide attempts and cutting got worse. I was holding in so much rage, so much hate. In my freshman year of high school, I had a teacher that obviously didn’t like me for some reason and grabbed my arm, jerking me out of my desk. Wrong move–I evidently let out some of my rage on her and hit her…knocking her a few feet back. I don’t remember it, my best friend Kev was in the class with me and told me what happened. The only thing I remembered was being in the principal’s office, with my Mama and the cops there. They ended up putting me in a psych hospital for a year. At first, it was great–I was away from the asshole who was hurting me, I felt safe. I was still clammed up and wouldn’t tell any of the therapists about my abuse. “Don’t scream, don’t tell” , “Dad’s” mantra I was made to repeat kept going through my head, I couldn’t tell. One day one of the therapists I really liked came into my room, he told me he understood, he knew I just wanted to be loved. I cried, thinking he really understood. He started to touch me–my face..my arms, my legs, my cock. *SIGH* I wanted love so bad I let him do things to me. I let myself think he loved me. Many nights he would come to my room and do things to me, get me to do things to him. He made me think he cared. I was a stupid teenager, who was so abused, so angry, so needy and vulnerable and he took advantage of me. He molested me just like “Dad”, he used me. I told him I loved him–did he tell me he loved me back? No. He told me I couldn’t have him and to stay away from him. He broke my fucking heart and made me feel even more victimized. Another person to abuse me. I knew then I had a neon “Abuse Me It’s OK” sign over my head….

When I got out of the hospital, I met Kelli. She was so sweet and nice and she broke through my shyness. Kelli, Kevin and I started doing everything together. We were the best of friends—then I started having feelings for her, love feelings and she was feeling the same way. We started doing some things alone–getting closer, loving each other. One day, we decided to “do it”, both of us virgins..(I do NOT consider being molested taking my virginity). We parked my truck in a secluded place one day after school and we made love for the first time….and I got her pregnant that day *SIGH*. When she told me, I wanted to do the right thing, I loved her. So we told our parents, of course they were shocked, her Dad hated me for getting her pregnant, but we finally got them to sign papers so we could get married. We got married got our own little apartment. We would go to school during the day, then Kevin would drive her home while I went to work. Kelli and I were young, but we were happy and mature for our ages and we both wanted our baby. I remember being in awe thinking that a life we created was growing inside of her. In her fourth month, I came home from work and she didn’t greet me as usual at the door. I called out for her–nothing. I went into the bedroom and saw her lying on our bed, blood all over. She had miscarried and hemorrhaged, she was dead. I screamed and grabbed her, tried to “wake her up”, I prayed, I begged….*SIGH* I called the paramedics and sat in the floor by the bed, with her blood all over me, holding her limp hand until they got there. I lost my child and my Kelli…the first person to really love me was gone.

At her funeral, I was devastated…then her father came to me and told me it was MY fault she was dead, if I had kept my “dick in my pants” she would be alive. I felt even WORSE and after the funeral I was sitting in Mama and “Dad’s” house, he was in the living room with me, I cried and said “I just want to die…I can’t take this”…what was “Dad’s” reaction? He said “If I get the gun, you promise to do it….” If he would have gotten that gun out at that time I would have blown his fucking brains out then killed myself!!!!

A few months after Kelli died, I met Jennifer. She was sweet and nice, she pursued me, I said no many times, but she was persistant. Finally I agreed and we went out. I know now I was rebounding from Kelli, from the pain, so I think I thought Jen was nicer than she really was. Long story short, I ended up marrying her when we turned 18, not long after our graduation. Kevin begged me not to marry her, he had bad feelings about her. I didn’t listen and went through with it. On our wedding night, a night when you should be making love, laughing and making plans for the future, I was alone and she left me to go out with her friends. It never ended. Jennifer turned into the devil’s daughter. She was verbally and physically abusive to me. She caused me to have stitches many times by hitting me with things. She cheated on me–she was just cruel. She said mean things to me…let’s just say things she did to me were horrible. We had sex a total of 4 times during our 7 year marriage. We had been married for almost 2 years when I got tired of being monogamous to someone who was fucking anything with two legs. I played a gig with my band one night and this girl who was like a groupie of mine flirted with me, I said to her—“Wanna fuck?”. She of course said yes, I took her outside to my truck, and that is all it was, a simple fuck. A few weeks later she’s at the club telling me she’s pregnant. GOOD GOD. But me being an upstanding guy, I told her I would be with her through out the pregnancy, I would, of course, help her with our child. I had to tell Jen what was going on, her reaction? “As long as I don’t have to touch it you can play Daddy all you want.” , fucking cold bitch.

On August 30th my daughter was born. I was in delivery as she was born…my Melody, I was in love. The nurses went to hand Mel to her and M (Mel’s Mom, not going to put her full name) said “I don’t want it, I am not ready to be a Mom, I don’t want it.” IT?!?!?! How can you call a child IT? So at 20 years old I became a single father….I left Jen a few years later (she never helped with Mel anyhow) and it was just me and my baby girl…we were happy, except for “Dad” obsessing and still abusing me *SIGH*….

I was working my way up in my company (software company). I started working there when I was 15 and stayed. I worked my way up from gopher, to sales, to network administrator to finally a VP!! I was so fucking proud of myself. I was making good money, I had a nice home, a beautiful daughter. The only thing was, I was a heroin addict and STILL being abused by my “Dad”.

I started doing heroin when I was 15 to kill my pain….Now don’t judge me and say I was a horrible father for doing heroin. Yes, I was an addict, but my child NEVER saw me do it, she NEVER did without ever! My Mama would keep Mel on the weekends and I would binge and binge, heroin and as much alcohol as my body could stand.

Sometimes I would go on 2 and 3 day binges–no one would know where I was–Kevin would come find me somewhere in Louisville or up in Indiana in drug houses, fucked up out of my mind. I wanted to kill all my pain, from all my abuse. The abuse from “Dad” that was still going on. The abuse I could tell NO ONE about. When my divorce from Jen was final, I really kinda went crazy. I had what I call my “whore” days. I was living a totally gay lifestyle, men only. I would go to gay clubs, fuck in the ‘back rooms”, no names, no staying over, no regrets. I just wanted to be high and fuck without emotions. I had an AIDS scare after about 3 years of the circuit lifestyle and that stopped the “whore days”.

I met Jaysin…a wonderful guy and lived with him for 2 years. He loved me, I loved him. Unfortunately fate wasn’t on our side and we weren’t meant to be together forever. He got offered a job in Dallas, TX, an offer he couldn’t refuse. He begged me to go with him, but I couldn’t leave my GOOD job, uproot my child, leave my Mama…so we split amicably with many tears. He still checks on me every now and again. 🙂

So again, I was alone….I went through a few boyfriends and girlfriends then met Carol. She told me I was the love of her life, she left her shitty husband for me…we lived together 8 years. I got off heroin when we moved in together, my life was turning around, then I got those three fucking words that would change my life forever. “You have cancer.”

I think Carol thought I was going to die (well they told my family I had 6 weeks when they found the leukemia) so she stayed….through the heavy chemo to kill off everything in my body, the bone marrow transplant, the months in the hospital, the pneumonia, the staph infections….*SIGH* I told her she could leave, it would be ok and I would understand, but she said she loved me and wasn’t going to leave me….

I went into remission, then about 6 months later it was back–she stayed but it was never the same. She would only touch me if she had been drinking, made me feel like I was shit. Like I was unattractive, like I was a big nothing, but still, I stayed. She promised to take care of me until I died. Yeah right, she took care of me by cheating on me numerous times, until I couldn’t take anymore and I left her to move back to Kentucky with my family……

I swore I would never fall in love with anyone again, not seriously. I was sick, I was fighting terminal leukemia, rounds of chemo and radiation. Then they found the 2 small growing cancerous brain tumors. My Papa’s tumors? I don’t know, but it was more chemo and more radiation and more fucking meds. I felt ugly, shitty, unattractive, unloveable…then on that day in May, I met D on deviantart, we got married on August 9th 2006, the anniversary of my Papa’s death, he was there, he wanted us to marry on that day. I felt it and I know it…he was there with us.

The rest is history I guess. I am still here fighting after they gave me 4-6 months to live years ago. My body IS slowly shutting down, I am on home hemodialysis three days a week because I am in kidney failure, my gastro system is slowly shutting  down…I’ve had tumors removed from my kidney, my throat….It sucks, but I am fighter…and I am stubborn.

I just found out one of the tumors in my head is growing again, my seizures are getting really bad again…so next monday I start radiation YET AGAIN, 5 days a week, 35 rounds. I get to be fried to a crisp again….They wanted me to do chemo but I have refused. No more chemo. If the tumor doesn’t respond to the radiation, then I guess it will just grow until it or the leukemia finally takes me out. NO MORE CHEMO!

I am loved and I love. I am abused, I am sick, but I am here and I am glad for that.

WOW, this ended up being long, but hey you asked how I came to be. I could have made it even longer and got into more detail, but enough is enough. 😉

Thanks Butterfly! I hope this is insightful….not too boring! haha

As I said, if you have something you want me to blog about, just put it in a comment!

I’m out to try to sleep again!




Bloglisting.net - The internets fastest growing blog directory

Page copy protected against web site content infringement by Copyscape

Creative Commons License
The Boy Was Tired Of It All... by V is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at https://murderousthoughts.wordpress.com

who has been visiting?

how many have entered my mind?

  • 24,728 victims
January 2018
M T W T F S S
« Oct    
1234567
891011121314
15161718192021
22232425262728
293031