Somtimes When I Get Weird, En'it?

Sometimes, when I get carried away in the moment, I can get so full of things that have been said, or lived and or tasted by force and to remember I have felt myself ripped by rape and the love for or wait, is it the love from the perpetrator's that continues to confuse me because of the things I feel in my Soul. And my Spirit's too. How can I forgive other's when I can't forgive myself? All of me knows that I'm weird en'it? Am eye? Sometimes when I get carried away, I can feeel my innards and energies inside me get full of anxiousness and I can feel my heart skip the beat that causes my pulse to skip and skip and skip. So much so, the folks who take it, (my pulse) ask me time and time again, "do you know you have a skipping hear beat?", and my reply is always the same, "get the fuck outta here!". No, not really, but it sure sounded good there for a minute. And then, I think about all of the awesome foods I ate over this past week end, while Kinfolk from out of town were in town and my sister Kala came over and my baby sister, Lala came over with her children and her ball's and chain and no, I'm not sorry for saying that, the bastard knows I love him. I see that I might can get carried away and weird too, sometimes I'm okay with this. I am me, enit'? Sometimes when I think of all of the pressure I have been up and under over the past few years that I can sense that I am getting carried away with all of these medically imposed issues and acknowledge that I have my problems and know that we all have our problems and sometimes I wonder, "what the fuck have I gotten myself into?", and eventually am able to walk up right as I walk away from what or whoever it is that I am stressing myself about and or over and or both. I don't know, but I know that that at this moment I feel awfully true when I say that I may have somethings I wish to share. So I share and I speak up. How in the hell is somebody going to get things right-right in the mind and life force when there is so little care and or the minuscule amount of support that I am positive this is because I have had my heart broken so many times that I stoped counting when I was eight. I mean, really? I am but a human and one with two spirit's and many ego's and a few personalities. One with enough scar tissue to have layers of this removed, frozen and then sold on the Black Market for them folks who enjoy making lamps from my grafted epidermis. Look, I know I gt carried away, but I don't need some goof ball with their own shit, telling me how to deal with mine. Often times, it is them who share with me their thoughts about the subject of forgiveness. How can I forgive other's when I can't forgive myself. Especially, them who are so full of themselves that I become their sub-servant. Moose Shit! Is what I say to them and I don't give a shit if they are Kinfolk and also don't really give two Water Buffalo shits if their Kinfolk, and yes, I know I said that twice. I know what I meant to say. Damn it, he is so weird sometimes. En'it? It scares me and I am afraid that I am being set up for abuse and am being groomed for more sexual abuse and I think to myself is this really what I am to be forced fed the rest of my fucking life? My whole damned life? And oh, I wanted to say, my whole god damned life? Is this my place in life? Is it to be that I must constantly be on full alert when in the company? When in public I know how to deal with this shit, but personally I have had one issue over another issue and after issues with this fucking shit as a fifty three year old son-of-a-bitch who still believes that I am weird looking inside and out. All of these years I have seen abuse. I have felt the horror of rape. I still deal with the fucking nightmares and I still have my panic attacks and people in position's who want and wish to place more and more diagnosis's on my name with things that are old scars resulting from forced sexual favors. What was that!? How is that at thirteen I was being sexually abused, forced upon by incest and now that I am fifty three the same shit is to continue to happen? What the fuck is that!? I know I get carried away, but folks forget. Folks think they know, fuck, folks don't know why I get carried away. Or why I cry or why I want to bleed and be okay with being this so weird, en'it? How can I forgive other's if I can't forgive myself?

Note: This is what I meant it to be. One paragraph of my utterance's. Seen?