Move On Dot Org!

It's so weird how some people never change. They have some bad childhood and just stay stuck in the past forever. They never get over the bad shit that happened to them as children so they keep doing self-sabotaging, self-defeating behaviors over and over again. Every once in a while, I do a web search for my ex-boyfriend from when I was 19, Evil. As you can imagine, someone named Evil might have some issues. He was a short, tan, blue-eyed white guy who affiliated with Mexican gang members. He had all the Mexican gang tattoos, like the comedy/tragedy masks, girls with big boobs and clown faces, the teardrop tattoo under the corner of his eye (which apparently is only given in prison for murdering someone), and "Evil One" in Olde English tattooed across his swollen junkie stomach. He was addicted to meth and used to shoot it up into his dick because he had a good vein there. He was a meth cook (at least that's what he claimed, although even with a meth lab, I never saw him produce anything usable). Our relationship was all about drugs, sex, and fighting. We would fight, fuck, and get high, and that was all we did. Our relationship was chaotic and dangerous and he was one of the most abusive, frightening people I have ever been with. He would hold me in places against my will and threaten to kill me, he would force me to spend money on my credit card to get him motel rooms, he once gave my car keys to a mentally retarded meth addict who called himself "God" (the guy was seriously mentally retarded - the state gave him money and an apartment because he was too stupid to work). He cheated on me with God's girlfriend, a heroin whore, some other prostitute named Freedom who I never met, and I'm sure countless others. He kidnapped me, he choked me, hit my head against walls, and punched me in the face so hard that I had two black eyes, a fat lip, a bloody nose, and a concussion that sent me to the ER. We were together for nine months, although I left him several times during that nine months. The day I finally left for good was the day he punched me in the face. I was on the phone with my mom, telling her I wanted to leave, and he cut the fucking phone cord! Then I tried to run out the sliding glass door and he grabbed me, so I dug my long fingernails into his sides. That's when he beat me up. I moved into a domestic violence shelter for a couple months and met a girl there who I became fast friends with named JM. I had been there only a few hours, and she arrived a little later on the same day. She and I and several other girls were sitting out at the smoking table and the first thing she said was, "So, who else got dragged through the front yard this weekend?" It was so fucked up that I had to laugh, and from that moment forward, she and I were inseparable, just cracking each other up all day, every day. Unfortunately, one day she was on the phone with her abuser (the father of their two children) and the conversation was really upsetting. That night she got drunk and started hopping from picnic table to picnic table, telling one of the female counselors that she had a crush on her. The next day she got kicked out. I left a few days later because it just wasn't the same without her. I moved in with JM, her abuser, and their two young children, a boy, 4, and a girl, just barely 2 years old. That's a whole other story, though, and I'm not trying to write my memoir right this second. My point is Evil, and how some people never change. See, when Evil was a child, his father sexually abused him in the most horrific ways. He forced him to peform oral sex, and raped him repeatedly, I think for several years. His uncle's did, too. His mom married this scumbag when she was only 15 years old, and I'm sure she came from a fucked up family as well. So she knew that this stuff was going on and did nothing about it. In my opinion, little is worse than that. No one I know has ever told me such horrific stories of childhood abuse. Evil's was the worst story I ever heard and probably ever will hear (because I don't hang with people like that anymore). So he grew up, became a male stripper, and got addicted to meth, went to prison, and joined a Mexican gang. When I met him, he was 31 years old. It's been over ten years since I left that relationship (thank god), and I have since quit doing drugs, quit hanging out on the streets with dope fiends and whores, quit being an irresponsible loser, fucking whoever, snorting and smoking whatever, and generally not giving a fuck about myself. Granted, no one raped me as a child, no one (as far as I remember) ever molested me, so I can't say that I know what's that feels like because I don't. But what I do know is, I had traumatic shit happen to me when I was young, and before I knew any better, I coped with it by hurting myself, doing things to numb the pain of a fucked up childhood. But at some point, I feel like you really have to stop feeling sorry for yourself and move on. Drugs are actually quite lame, and life is far more of a high. Prison, from what I've heard, is not a good time, and being homeless blows for sure. At some point, you have to realize that you're continuing to make life such far past the point that it needs to suck. As soon as you're able to start making your own decisions for your life, as soon as you're old enough to make your own money and get your own place to live and food to eat, you have the option to move on. I didn't move on right away. It took me several more years of punishing myself with bad relationships and chemicals before I finally got it that I don't have to, and don't want to, live that way. But some people just go on like that 'til their early death. Evil is 42, and just booked again in July of this year for a felony. I saw his mugshot (which I could create a link to, but I won't because I'm too embarrassed) and he has the meth lesions all over his face and neck, he's all sucked up, his eyes are shut, and he's just fucked! 42 years old and still up to the same old tricks, never to be happy, never to move on, stuck in the pain forever. I wonder if he even knows he has a choice? Maybe he doesn't. Maybe I don't know what I'm talking about at all. Maybe being raped by your dad really is something that you can never get over. Maybe karma is a real thing, and in his past life he was Hitler, or some other horrible dictator, and his current life is his punishment for his last life. I don't know. I just feel like it's such a waste of a life, a waste of space on the planet to live an entire life in misery. I think he's also turned into a pedophile, but like I said, there's little information on the crimes committed, since he's only been booked and not charged. But I know he's attracted to young children...there were little signs here and there that I ignored at the time, but I just know. God, that gives me the shivers just thinking about it. Anyway, I have this uncanny ability to forgive, and maybe that's why I'm able to move on and so many addicts aren't. But I forgive him for what he did to me, and I forgive everyone else, too. Life is too short to stay mad. Staying mad doesn't do anything to the people I'm mad at, it only does something to me, and that is, make my life suck. And since I forgive him, I hope he finds some peace. I hope everyone finds peace. I believe everyone deserves it.