PUNISHED (and disdained??)

Thank you Urology Associates but my nuts are bigger and besides this fucker is standing

PUNISHED (and disdained??)

and what kind of woman incaseyoudon’tknow

I’m still waiting for the woman I am in love with to love me back like she should. That’s why I’m wasting my time chasing butterflies. I am crossing between introspection denial and…
…
…
…. and anyway;
w(itht) the long hair
n(nnnnnnn) nobody knows that I landed on my head

She told me to put a photo of myself on my page. I asked why, what does that have to do with what I write? She said excitedly, when people see you are handsome they will like your site. ? … ? What a boring thing it is to be, a blogger

[most of this was written in pieces late last night so I went back when I was sober this morning and put punctuation brackets around almost all of the mistakes so that you can see how drunk I was. I have done it this to take you there and to see how this poured out with the alcohol inside of me. I need to let you know. My brain has been damaged but I drink all the same. The mistakes left have been left on purpose as I am letting you inside to see me. I only had to change this a bit. I have not bracketed all of the mistakes because this is the fiction of the fact – you know I like it like that]

I went out with my mate tonight. The only difference is he wants to get laid and I want to get married. I could never get into a woman that wanted me too badly in bed, it always felt like I was being raped; I guess that it is because of how I was raised.
 
  
 
I tried to chat her up (today for) the very first time I saw her (sorry ← 1st () was past with the present gb icydk). ( – ) I have tried little clever (to me – genuine brackets) remarks to do so every time since I’ve seen her since but I’ve always failed. I saw her again today and had another go but I have been unsuccessful every time I’ve tried to spoon her. She is so sexy. Something about her says sophisticated with innocence, I mean she still knows how to put the girl face on. (the) first time I saw her she scared the shit out of me. She stared at me looking scared while looking sophisticated. (it) still scares the shit out of me to think about it. I would let her, I said to myself, I would like to fuck her (but not genuinely) while not knowing if I could genuinely let her let her into my life and my pants. (I said, genuinely feeling the feeling of the last few years. .iIo said I’ll call you later/ – (gb that’s not drunk, I must have been tripping)). I’ve often thought about the only woman that I have let enter my life since I became disabled… the _____woman. She told me that seeing the supra-pubic catheter was confronting. I can only imagine. I cannot remember when it went in and besides at the time (that) I would not have realised how disabled I had become, that (v) only happened recently.

I am the six and a half million-dollar man but my only superpower is deafness. I saw her in the sun this morning and magnetism took over. She is a natural blonde and the sun made her hair white from behind. Because I act on cues, watch lips, and am not socially awkward she would never have known that I didn’t know what was going on. All I had to do was sit and wait for my time to talk and keep asking her questions. I had to ask her the same question twice today but had stopped to ask her a third time out of embarrassment. (IT WAS SO LOUD WHERE WE WERE (gb this is because I had just thought of the title so went back up to the top and still had it in caps when I came back down)) that I couldn’t even hear her answers to forget. It just felt nice to be in her presence. I will only say this because I live in Bondi but she has good energy. I asked her questions related to what I could hear the answers to.

I failed in chatting her up. It did not work. It never works these days so I left the venue in a trance and started to push my wheelchair back up Sheer Hill. The sunscreen had worn off with sweat and I could feel my big nose burning in the sun. It felt comfortable to be hurting somewhere else for a change. An early twenties woman stood in front of my wheelchair and stopped my roll a quarter of the way up the hill. I had to lean into the hill to not fall backwards out of my chair. She looked angry. She looked down at the smart-phone glued to her hand and asked me, do you have WIFI? No, I said, I’m cool… I’m clean. I’ve been to the doctor and everything’s clear. What, she asked? We only did it once and I wore a condom although I did stick it in her arse for a while when she asked me to. Is that how I could have caught it? Do you even know, she asked, what WIFI is? No, I replied. Well what do you think it is, she queried? It sounds like an acronym for a venereal disease, I drawled. She looked at me silently, made a little huff, looked back at the screen then walked past me down the hill. She was judging me on the decline. I eventually heard her laugh as her heavy feet stomped the pavement away from me. I couldn’t figure out if she was laughing at me or had finally got the joke.

I started wondering wether another woman would ever want me again and whatkindofwoman she would have to be? She would have to be brave. The woman is on my brain. My head throbbed from thinking about it. I held my hand to my face. I looked down at the blister on my index finger. Reality is this hill. I told myself aloud to not think as I leaned deeper up into the incline and continued pushing. Put this wheelchair up this hill. Just use your body to get home. I said under my breath, just use your arms and shoulder’s and not your mind. Don’t think about it. This part of the hill is nothing, just turn off the things that hurt. I could feel my arms burning in the sun as I tried to think of nothing, nothing nothing nothing. The hill is steep with struggle, lactic acid started to burn inside my shoulders and half a second later I started thinking about how many times I lied to her and the fact that I never went with her when she aborted our baby. It was taking all of my oxygen as I pushed up the incline. The hill seemed tougher than usual and I had to stop to rest. A friend of mine is a Catholic and she said no wonder I didn’t go to the abortion when I told her. That is not the actual reason I could not be with her, I am pro-choice. Trust me; it had nothing to do with God.

The hill and the sun almost got the best of me but eventually I got home and to my bed. I pulled my pants off and was about to transfer when I saw it. My back clicked as I saw there was a small piece of shit on the inside of my right leg. Endorphin’s flooded through me and I felt cold. It was on my calf just above the orthotic strap. I said, oh fuck, and got a tissue to see if it was shit. The white told me it was. I said, oh fuck, again while wondering if she could have smelt it while I was trying to chat her up. I held the tissue in my hand and looked at it. It was only a small piece but it was still a small piece of shit. It must have slipped down my leg as I showered and I had missed it with the towel. I started laughing. Being an incomplete paraplegic with an acquired brain injury is a strange thing to be. Being able to feel and smell some things but not others is really hard to get used to. I took the tissue up to my nose to see if it had a smell. I could smell it. Of course I could smell it. It was a small piece of shit. I cackled like a madman. I had to speak so I rang and told one of my mates that I was contemplating doing something bad (I’m not going to tell you gb) but had stopped before I did it thinking that God may punish me. (my) mate laughed and said, I think He’s already done that

My life has always been hard. It was hard before I became disabled. It has been hard from the very beginning. My sister thinks she’s done it harder because she was still living at home when my father’s chickens came home to roost. In actual fact I had it much worse, I was with my father while he was fucking the hens. He made me sit and watch him.

all of this said

the hemisphere to smell is damaged and I am punished

but

I really only feel bad about some of the things that I’ve said

and done

Andrew Stuart (buchanan)