Currently Listening Supersunnyspeedgraphic - The LP By Ben Folds, Ben Folds see related

bravery.

[true story]

i sat in front of my attorney at our first meeting yesterday. he asked what i wanted. he asked if i wanted to be divorced. i said yes. then he asked if i wanted custody of my daughter. i gulped.

my ex, if and when she is served with papers stating i want custody, will explode. wouldn't any mother, given the reality that her child may be taken away?  i wasn't sure if i could do it, if i could make the hardest decision of my life.

fuck it. after a minute or two of thinking hard about all the repurcussions this decision would bring me, i said yes. i want my daughter. i want her to be raised by me and loved by me. i want to be in her life. and because the repurcussions of NOT taking her are even worse. read below.

WARNING! [semi-graphic/uncomfortable reading ahead.] to you, my internet blogging friends, i present to you some facts about this decision that i would not tell most people. so listen closely: my [ex]wifes father was apparently convicted for some mysterious child molestation charge. the history is unclear but he was definitely in jail for 5 years when she was younger. i don't know who he did anything to, but there ya go. ALSO, when we first met in 1999 she mentioned that her stepdad, a totally different person, touched her and her sister. well, basically raped them. so WTF? her family is still in contact with these people, which is sick, and her stepdad still waltzs around like nothing is the matter. and my ex is ok to leave gabby [daughter] in the hands of both of these men. NOT KIDDING.

so it's just a matter of time in my eyes before my daughter gabby becomes a victim. i'm going nuts over here, i cannot let that happen. my thought process is this: if i don't take steps to obtain full custody, i will be at fault if something happens.

am i nuts?

Currently Listening Songs for Silverman By Ben Folds see related

deviantART

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thanks in advance for checkin' it out peoples.

Currently Listening Tidal By Fiona Apple see related

in the land where the grass doesn't grow.

It’s just as I feared,

Where I walk

Grass doesn’t grow here;

It’s so weird.

A trail of barren waste

Lays behind me

And the taste

Metallic

Blood

Lingers on my tongue

And fingers

Bee stingers

Is what my name invokes

And I travel like dust

My presence chokes

Life from lungs

Mouth from tongues

The song

Of the void

It travels over ears

And places fears

In dreams

It seems

Of children as they sleep

I materialize

As shadow

And follow

Good and bad

Through thickets

And hollows

My pool is shallow

Fetid

Feverish and gibbering

I must maintain

Madness

Continue the sadness

Purge good and light

And paint a picture

Of obscurity

To breach security

Of everyday life

In the land

Where the grass
Doesn’t grow

Currently Listening X&Y By Coldplay see related

a little background.

i'll give ya'll a little glimpse into what i have gone through in the past few years. i'll try to keep it short, but it's not very sweet.

i am going through a divorce at the age of 27, and have a little 3 year old girl, gabriella. she's the bee's knees btw. my (ex)wife suffers from severe bi-polar. when i say severe, it's not just a pms day. it's super pms 24/7. it's also suicide, binge drinking, medication abuse/overdose, or not taking meds at all. cheating, blah blah blah. the works. now i'm not a saint, i'm blunt, straightforward and sometimes a bit harsh. but this was bad.

i'm convinced i may never date again, ever. this is probably not true, but the feelings i get right now make me want to stay far away from everyone but my family and my little baby girl. thus all the sad poetry.

so if you can bear with me and understand the source of all this depressed writing then we will become strong friends, and i will be ever greatful to all who extend there ears and hands.

so far you all have been great, and i would have never realized this could be a source of healing if it weren't for mr. lyricsninja, a.k.a. the kollarbear.

thanks,

kurt.

anymore.

twelve hours

and the time from the clock

seeps down onto the rug

and i won’t clean it up until tomorrow.

seems that the sun has set

and i won’t look behind the hills to find it.

it’s winter now and the cold makes my bones groan

like an old shed door

that leads to the tools we use

to fix up the garden

in the spring.

it’s not spring, mom.

why do people die and why do birds fly

and why do i cry

sometimes,

but not all the times i should?

why can’t flowers bloom

forever

and why is there bad weather?

i guess it’s the balance of nature

that keeps the scales where they should be,

i guess its mother nature.

i guess.

why don’t things stay here,

why do they leave?

the leaves grind into dust

and the dust blows

in the wind

behind the hills

with the sun

every night.