Mood:
amorousYou may or may not know that I am a dog person. I used to like to borrow a dog for the day (when I didn’t have one) and walk in a park or just wander around the neighborhood. As it happens I used to walk a landlords dog to clear my mind when I started being followed by a chatterbox of a little boy who would follow me for a few houses. I remember being amused but I never said more than hello, goodbye, nope or yep to his incessant ramblings. As I said before, I wanted to clear my mind and conversation with some kid wouldn’t do that. Because of my legal status I’d just walk faster when I was approached.
While wandering one day I heard this chattering behind me and I rolled my eyes in amusement. I remember thinking this kid is going to end up in telemarketing. Suddenly a woman sternly came out of the house and called the boy over. The next thing I saw was her hand coming down on the boys face very hard as she screamed, “Never talk to that sick bastard!” I stumbled a bit but walked away quickly hearing many more blows and feeling miserable. I cried quite a bit that day. He didn’t deserve that. I don’t take walks too much anymore. I don’t do much of anything anymore. I can still hear the screams.
Depression to me is as comforting as joy is to most “normal” folks. I can always rely on it to be there for me no matter what. I like to keep busy focusing on other people, other things, anything other than thinking about me. Oh, how I do hate myself at times. It’s harder for me to break even than it is for everyone else to get ahead. Why should you care? Besides, I’m a bad guy. It’s true that I made a mistake at a youthful age, who hasn’t?
I am trying so very hard to lead a normal life. It’s impossible to be completely normal as I will always be a “sicko” in the eyes of the world. I care entirely too much about what others think about me. I don’t care enough for me. I’m tired of being frustrated. I will be a sex offender for the rest of my life. Although I must say that what I am is not who I am. I am defined by a mistake that should never have happened. I am tired of opinions and I don’t want any, unless they’re positive. I can’t handle any more bad times.
I’ve had fliers posted around different places I’ve lived. My Pontiac was vandalized, windows smashed, nothing was taken. I’ve received several threats over the years. The ones I remember the most are the old friends that just found out what list I’m on. Every time something happens to me my family feels it. I have reconciled with all parties involved. In the eyes of God I believe I have been cleansed. My victim even told me once she wished the state would leave me alone because she doesn’t need a reminder of what’s in the past. Too bad the state doesn’t factor in the cross. Sadly, neither did my church.
I always thought of my church as a bastion of stability. A place hurting people go when they’re hurt. Well, the reality was that when things’ started going down I was told to get out. I was an “embarrassment” that was too much to handle. I was thinking to myself at the time isn’t God supposed to give you the strength to handle it? Isn’t this the sort of thing a church is supposed to help a member with? I had a very frank discussion with the governing board about liabilities and image. It’s funny how healing, reconciliation and God were never brought up. Since than I’ve gone from church to church but I never seem to fit anywhere. That horrified me, depressed me, and broke my heart at a time I needed them the most.
In the eyes of the world I am a liability. Very few companies will employ me and very, very few people will rent me a room. Even simple problems, for me, are compounded. The state makes it so very hard to succeed and when I fail I get the book thrown at me. I was never told what would happen if I succeeded. I was however made very aware of what would happen when I failed. It is expected. Countless times I have begged God to take my pointless life from this horrible world. I have cried myself to sleep praying this way over and over and as I wake I curse God for making me suffer another day. I have very little joy in my life, no peace and no happiness. I have taken it away from me. Maybe I’m not entitled.
Generally, people make their perceptions of me quite known. Usually out of some form of ignorance of the liberal media and their propaganda it is decided that I'm inherently awful and need to be banished. Well, I’m sorry for not being worthy of the lofty presence of the liberal media who use me to increase their ratings by causing a frenzy. I detect a bit of sarcasm their Dave… ‘eh? (Sorry, tangent, different letter, moving on.)
I know I’m a nice guy. A bit strange sure, but that doesn’t negate niceness. Sometimes I feel a bit awkward around people. Like Hitler stumbling in upon a Bar Mitzvah. Oops! I’ll just be going now. Why does Dave feel this way? People are just mean and I don’t like them. Sounds simplistic but hey, it works for me. This struggle has forced me to be a xenophobic shell of a human. Living in fear is a lot like being a registered sex offender in the state of Florida. The state doesn’t care if I’m in prison, dead, or on probation. Lucky for me I’m not any of those things. I have reached my limit and my mind can’t handle any more stress.
Let me break it down a little more. Early American history is full of witch-hunts and mercilessly slaughtering natives. In other words, terrorizing that which is misunderstood. Lets compare sex offenders with witches for a moment. Mary the witch would never turn farmer Joe into a newt. But why take the chance? Sure, witches are slightly evil herbologists with a slightly askew dogma… but burn them? Fear of the unknown turns into hatred. (We now know, the only thing to be found in a witches brew are herbal remedies that actually work.) They are more interested in preserving themselves than hurting others. Sound familiar? Sex offenders make good neighbors. We are more afraid of ignorance than the public is afraid that we will turn your kids into newts. Strange yes, but think on it.