What is Evil? What determines the true nature of this phenomena? Is Evil simply the act of going against social norms? Is it the act of violence? Is it verbally attacking others? Is it disobeying rules that were given to you? Casting out a group of people that don’t believe in what you believe in? Being, promiscuous? What is the measuring stick? What are the rules? Where is our right to say that something is Evil? Do we have this right? I don’t know.
Fade to the light…
I wake up in my bed, to the snores of my wife. She says she never snores. Much like most things I would come to realize is a lie. It hurts to do a sit-up, can’t tell if it’s from the lack of eating right, or the fact I have recently started doing yoga so I can live longer in this blissful existent. I finally decided to lift my right leg and swing it down giving me the momentum to sit-up. Of course, this wakes her up. She hits me with a tapestry of obesities for waking her. How inconsiderate of me to wake her. She doesn’t get that much rest and I never respect that. I apologized so she can stop her prattling. I get up and make my way downstairs so she can sleep. I begin to mentally beat myself up. Why did I have to apologize? She is always making me do that. For Bullshit decisions that she makes, it becomes my fault. And I let her do it!
Like what just happened. She made it my fault she has not been able to sleep. Never taking the time to consider the fact that she was playing one of her Goddamned phone apps, to all hours before she decided to crawl in bed. I found that has become what she does now. We Don’t Talk. We don’t Fuck. We don’t do a Goddamn thing but fight when we get to close to each other. I have come to realize that she hates me. And not me but everything about me. She is not shy about it. I can’t count how many times she has said this to me. She will say it was in the heat of a fight. Don’t get me wrong I am guilty of doing this too. But the difference is I don’t mean it when I say it.
I find my familiar place on the couch. You know it’s my place because of the fact that it has a worn-in spot from me laying there almost every night. What to do now? Watch Netflix, see if there is a WW2 documentary I haven’t slept to yet. See like some people out there I seem to sleep better when a TV is playing. I don’t know why That is just how it is. After a brief scan, I don’t find anything I’m interested so I decided to go to my plan B. Internet porn on my phone. I’m never turned away from the workers here. Never asked about why I didn’t clean my hair out of the sink after I shaved, even though I honestly forgot. No, I do what I came to do. When I finish I’m wrapped in a blanket of blackness.
It seems to last for only seconds even though it was hours. I’m woken up to stomping and yelling. We have children too, if not to make this any better. I always wanted to be a father. Maybe it was because of one to many holiday specials when I was growing up. Or maybe it was the fact I was not raised by my parents.
I was kind of always longing for that feeling of family I never had. You see my Father died when I was young and mother, well she enjoyed being a kid. She gave me up to my Father’s mother. Saying she was not ready to raise a child. Then a year later she had my sister. She then gave her up to her Grandmother as well. Then she would have three more girls, she kept them. Maybe she got it right finally.
When My Wife and I first got together, it was a whirlwind. We were happy and in love. Going out to eat, going on trips. Buying things, we wanted to live life. Then she got pregnant. I was taken back because this was the first time this ever happen in my life. I told her “Let’s get married tomorrow.” She agreed. So we got married the next day, at city hall. Her and My family were dumbfounded that we did this. I was told that we didn’t have to get married just because we were having a baby. You see I had already bought a ring well before this and asked her to marry. Us doing it faster than they were ready was not a concern to me.
What was a concern was, us reliving what my parents had done. I did not want to be them. Or any other statistic on my race. So we got married. A week later she a miscarry. We were crushed. Then she would get pregnant again and she would miscarry again. This time I was not sad I was angry. As if it was her fault. What was wrong with her?! Why couldn’t she have children? This made me cold to her for a little while. That’s when it came to me, just let it go. There was nothing wrong with her. It was because we were trying. So I said, “Let’s just enjoy being married.” And we did. It was the best year of our marriage. Then it happened, she got pregnant and we had a child.
I have a son who is a spitting image of me. From skin tone to the ADHD. He’s in his pre-teen years. Full of questions and a bunch of knowledge from school. This is a pain in the ass because of the fact he finds the need to correct My Wife and Myself on more than one occasion. This sets My Wife off. She has never seemed to care too much for my son. When she was pregnant with him she had post-partum depression. That made her and him bonding more than impossible. It didn’t help that I ended up staying home with him for the first two years of his life. It was not something I wanted to do. But the way things were going She was making more money. It made no sense for me to work to pay daycare, so I was stuck.
I got to the point where I was so sick of watching Barney that I wanted to hit the TV. I needed to have adult conversations. So when my son finally was a little older we were going to put him in daycare. The only thing was it had to be around her schedule. Which made it difficult to find full-time work. I would then go to college so I could try to get some skills to get a job that would really help with the mounting bills. You see it was my fault “we didn’t have any money.” “Because I’m not pulling my weight.” I was told this on a weekly basis. Even though I would bring up the fact that I could only work around her schedule, it didn’t matter.
You see she had made it known that she didn’t want to be the breadwinner of the house because her Mother was a stay at home mother. So she should have that same right. This is where we would go through the dance of me saying that this is not your Mother’s life and stop comparing our life to her parents who would eventually get divorced. So her Mother would end up getting a job anyways. My Wife would always blame her Father for that happening.
I would find some kindred spirits in college. I would get criticized for it because they were years younger than me. Also, everything I did in school was just me playing around. I didn’t agree with her because while I was in school I would become a Peer Mentor. A paid job on campus, also I would end up running the radio station. Doing this I learned to network with businesses. Not good enough.
When There was a situation with a female student, making an accusation against me, my Wife apart of the witch hunt. The situation would be ending up in my favor, for the most part. I would get community service but I was not guilty of anything that was said about me. This would not be enough for my wife. She became cold. Not unlike the entire idea of me going to college in general. This fueled her already fiery hatred of me going. We would go to court and charges were dropped because of the other person not showing up. I felt somewhat vindicated. But not from my wife. There was something there, I just didn’t know what.
It hurts, get up.
On my way of doing erins, I was t-boned by a car that ran a red light. It hit my car so hard that I was span around, to face it. All of my windows would blow out. I could feel the glass sliding across my face. My head would hit the steering wheel. I was not sure how long I was out for, maybe just moments.
Can it end now?
Maybe out of reflex, I turned off my radio. Then I turned off my car. I then would crawl out of my car from the passenger side. I would stumble towards the car that hit me. It was not a car it was a red truck with a black pultruding grill on the front of it. I would come on an Asian man hanging his head low. Not seeming to be worried about what just happen to me, instead just more worried about happening to his truck. I then flipped out asking him if he spoke English. He nodded slowly. Then in raged, I yelled, “do you have insurance?” When he nodded slowly, I yelled: “Good because I’m going to MURDER YOU!”
I began to stumble to my car. When I made it to my car I took off a leather jacket I had been wearing and throw it into the car. Then I was met by about five witnesses, that dogpiled me. Yelling about how I could have been paid if I just would, of stayed in the car. I happened to see the Asian man rolling up his window in fear and locking his door. As if that would protect him. I then noticed that my cell phone was on the street in pieces. I was able to put it back together and it turned on. So I began to take pictures.
A police officer showed up to the scene. The first thing that he said was “where was the Vic?” “I said the Victim?” “Yes.” Said the Officer. “Why I,” asked? He would go on to say “by the way the truck hit the car and no airbags diploid the driver should be dead.” I would then tell him I was the driver. He looked at me with a sick white look. And simply said “oh?” Then paramedics would show up. The first thing they would ask was where was the Victim? I would yell I’m right here! I would get the same look from him as well…