Tonight's Night Sky over Corvallis

Who am I

Friends and Intimate Partners

 It's time to be honest with myself. After moving to a new state over six years ago, I have not made a consistent friendship that has lasted more than a few months. It is entirely possible and highly probable that I will never again have a close friendship. This is based on past experience.

Likewise, I had a brief intimate encounter but that was strictly carnal and of no intrinsic emotional value. Thus, my six years have shown me that my social skills have deteriorated to a new level of low. I have little faith that I will be nothing other than extremely alone for the remainder of my years.

The biological family was left willingly due to severe and extensive abuses, dysfunction, incest and secrets. The few long distance friendships that remain are shoestrings, thin and scrawny at best due to my dwindling ability to read my mail and write letters. 

I have no one. I have no internal resources whereby to make and maintain a friendship or any type of relationship. This is just fact not fallacy or me not noting my options.

I am extremely alone and I have been for the majority of my life. I can see my future. There is only me.

On the positive, I am the most content and least harassed that I have ever been. My mental state is the calmest and clearest and the most stable that it has ever been in my entire life. I kid you not. 100% true. No one to answer to. No one to manipulate, trick and jump through hoops for. No one to cater to. No one to change my personality, likes and dislikes for. No trying to win someone's love by agreeing to do everything they want.

I am nobody, a phantom, a ghost that maybe someone once heard about a long time ago. 

There is no one that knows me from my childhood anymore. If I fell unconscious, there is no one to speak for me about what I was like, what I like to do, what I need, and what would work best for me. No one knows me.

So, I write blogs and books and I paint because I have the time and because I do have so much to say about an extraordinarily cruel, traumatic and painful life. This stuff, this crap that I endured needs to be said so people know the epitome of cruelty that one man could do to one small, innocent and most beautiful child. Someone needs to know the extreme I survived.

Someone needs to know how extraordinarily strong, courageous and resourceful I have been to live through what I endured. 

Someone needs to know the incredible depth of pain that a single child and adult can suffer through and still live.

I am the most extraordinary person few people will ever even hear about.

I deserved love but I got rape.

I deserved care but I got neglect.

I have been living on air and bread and water and some unseen treasure of strength.

Maybe I was born to walk this rough and dangerous road alone for some reason known only to God.

I don't know why I am here...except to tell my story from my hermitage of safety.

I am Multiple. I am Autistic. I was a child that was raped on a weekly basis until my teens. I am extremely alone and probably always will be. I have lost my social ability to engage or even attempt to engage with others on a meaningful level.

I do not resent or hate my life or where I am within this realm. I'm just stating the facts. I do not deceive myself into believing that the dreams, hopes and goals of neurotypical singletons could be mine. I am different. Removed. Set apart. Living within. It is just what I am. No falsehoods. No dreams.

I am nothing to anyone except my two adult children and my self. That is It. And that has to be good enough. 

This is who I am. I need to learn to be okay with that.

No one knows me.

I am a mist that rises briefly and disperses. 

You may have heard about me once. But then, I am so easily forgotten.

God, I have no idea how I have made it this far.

58 years old.

Favorite Moby Dick quotes

...I am tormented with an everlasting itch for things remote.

I love to sail forbidden seas, and land on barbarous coasts.

...there floated into my innermost soul, endless processions of the whale, and, midmost of them all, one grand hooded phantom, like a snow hill in the air.

It was a very dubious-looking, nay, a very dark and dismal night, bitingly cold and cheerless.

Abominable are the tumblers into which he pours his poison. (Of the bar keep at the Spouter)

Though true cylinders without-within, the villainous green giggling glasses deceitful tapered downwards to a cheating bottom.

Sartainty

Better sleep with a sober cannibal than a drunken Christian.

But Queequeg, do you see, was a creature in the transition state-neither caterpillar nor butterfly. He was just enough civilized to show off his outlandishness in the strangest possible manner.