HOME | DD

Description
It makes me sick to see you so defeated.

Helplessly, you gaze at your balls incased in the glass jar It keeps on its nightstand. It secretly enjoys watching you every night before bed, longing for them… longing for the day you get them back. It put them there to remind you of your faults and your weaknesses... and, of course, to remind you who’s boss.

You were magnificent once.

I remember you were so beautiful… so beautiful because you were so happy… alive. I couldn’t get enough of you. I could listen to you speak about nothing and everything for hours. You were so engaging and animated, so excited about the future. You had a child-like wonder about you. You inspired and shined brighter than the sun, and I grew like a majestic sycamore tree under the light emanating from your spirit.

Now, you’re almost all the way gone.

I broke down when I heard your voice on the phone a few days ago. The booming baritone was gone. Your voice has been muted, your spirit broken...all because of some stupid, worthless scum.

And who was that guy in the photo you sent?

He looked nothing like you. Somehow, the "deadness" in its eyes has found its way to yours. Why did you let yourself disappear and live among the very scum that disgusted you? You called It what It was and still you let yourself be defiled by It. Now, It’s eating you alive. After all, that is what scum does. It consumes and corrodes everything in its path. It has no other purpose but destruction. And the more you breathe It in, the more you die inside.

You told me once that you are just serving your time.

You’re right, you are in a penitentiary. But have you ever seen Shawshank Redemption? I’m not talking about the two main characters that lived happily ever after, but the poor old man who was released after decades of being imprisoned and ended up offing himself in a cheap hotel because he didn’t know how to “live” anymore. I’m just saying you’ve done enough time in your life. I’ve seen the suffering and the humiliation. I was there the whole time, remember? That scum called you every name in the book and forced bullshit down your throat so you’d feel worthless and small… to pull you down to its level so It can easily devour you. Please free yourself before you kill yourself… and promise me that I will never see “(You) was here” on any goddamned wall.

We talked about this once;

Children grow up and before we know it, they are making their own decisions and judgements. When that time comes, I guarantee you will be justified in all your sacrifices because you are indeed a great father. No bitch or whore or scum should ever be allowed to tell you otherwise. I hope it will not be too late for you when that time comes, my Darling. You have so much to offer and you deserve happiness.

I hope you know that I pray for you every day…

That you may feel whole again. That you may sing, create, dance, laugh and live again. At the same time, I can’t help but be scared for you. I know the toxicity surrounding you, and It is hungry. You said it yourself, It is disgusting and relentless and hateful. Please, don’t let It take over who you are. There is neither fault nor shame in seeking happiness or wanting to be all you can be for the sake of your children. After all, happy parents raise happy children. There is so much more to life than being a puppet to guilt. Guilt spawns rebels and misfits… but love and honor - that is what heroes are made of. You know in your gut that what you have right now is not love but co-dependence. You have dreamed about a future with me once... the Cliffs of Moher and the Islands of Cebu, the home and the life we built in our minds for our children. We all await your glorious return.

Awake and evoke who you are, for you are no less than a King. Never forget that despite your predicament right now, you are and will always be My King (balls or no balls)…

And, the thing about glass jars is they can easily be broken.

Description
It makes me sick to see you so defeated.

Helplessly, you gaze at your balls incased in the glass jar It keeps on its nightstand. It secretly enjoys watching you every night before bed, longing for them… longing for the day you get them back. It put them there to remind you of your faults and your weaknesses... and, of course, to remind you who’s boss.

You were magnificent once.

I remember you were so beautiful… so beautiful because you were so happy… alive. I couldn’t get enough of you. I could listen to you speak about nothing and everything for hours. You were so engaging and animated, so excited about the future. You had a child-like wonder about you. You inspired and shined brighter than the sun, and I grew like a majestic sycamore tree under the light emanating from your spirit.

Now, you’re almost all the way gone.

I broke down when I heard your voice on the phone a few days ago. The booming baritone was gone. Your voice has been muted, your spirit broken...all because of some stupid, worthless scum.

And who was that guy in the photo you sent?

He looked nothing like you. Somehow, the "deadness" in its eyes has found its way to yours. Why did you let yourself disappear and live among the very scum that disgusted you? You called It what It was and still you let yourself be defiled by It. Now, It’s eating you alive. After all, that is what scum does. It consumes and corrodes everything in its path. It has no other purpose but destruction. And the more you breathe It in, the more you die inside.

You told me once that you are just serving your time.

You’re right, you are in a penitentiary. But have you ever seen Shawshank Redemption? I’m not talking about the two main characters that lived happily ever after, but the poor old man who was released after decades of being imprisoned and ended up offing himself in a cheap hotel because he didn’t know how to “live” anymore. I’m just saying you’ve done enough time in your life. I’ve seen the suffering and the humiliation. I was there the whole time, remember? That scum called you every name in the book and forced bullshit down your throat so you’d feel worthless and small… to pull you down to its level so It can easily devour you. Please free yourself before you kill yourself… and promise me that I will never see “(You) was here” on any goddamned wall.

We talked about this once;

Children grow up and before we know it, they are making their own decisions and judgements. When that time comes, I guarantee you will be justified in all your sacrifices because you are indeed a great father. No bitch or whore or scum should ever be allowed to tell you otherwise. I hope it will not be too late for you when that time comes, my Darling. You have so much to offer and you deserve happiness.

I hope you know that I pray for you every day…

That you may feel whole again. That you may sing, create, dance, laugh and live again. At the same time, I can’t help but be scared for you. I know the toxicity surrounding you, and It is hungry. You said it yourself, It is disgusting and relentless and hateful. Please, don’t let It take over who you are. There is neither fault nor shame in seeking happiness or wanting to be all you can be for the sake of your children. After all, happy parents raise happy children. There is so much more to life than being a puppet to guilt. Guilt spawns rebels and misfits… but love and honor - that is what heroes are made of. You know in your gut that what you have right now is not love but co-dependence. You have dreamed about a future with me once... the Cliffs of Moher and the Islands of Cebu, the home and the life we built in our minds for our children. We all await your glorious return.

Awake and evoke who you are, for you are no less than a King. Never forget that despite your predicament right now, you are and will always be My King (balls or no balls)…

And, the thing about glass jars is they can easily be broken.