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Author Topic: Fighting For My Life  (Read 103624 times)

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Offline VillainousHero

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Re: Fighting For My Life
« Reply #300 on: April 02, 2020, 06:37:35 PM »
So my father just passed away.  Hospital pronounced his death.

There were things that were never said, now can never be said.
There were things that can never be taken back.
There were things that were never patched up.

When I cried and bawled tears, the guy walked away and didn't care.
Yet, he did so the same, again. 

So my mom, is just lost in grievance.  If there is anything, anything.  I know.  Simple comfort.



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Offline lilly

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Re: Fighting For My Life
« Reply #301 on: April 03, 2020, 07:53:16 AM »
I am so sorry for your loss, VillainousHero!  :'(  Be strong and take care of yourself.



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Offline ProudLao

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Re: Fighting For My Life
« Reply #302 on: April 03, 2020, 09:14:12 AM »
My condolences. Sorry for your loss. May your father rest in peace.



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I take refuge in the Buddha.
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Offline VillainousHero

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Re: Fighting For My Life
« Reply #303 on: April 04, 2020, 05:38:35 AM »
I'm just kind of at a lost...



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Offline ProudLao

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Re: Fighting For My Life
« Reply #304 on: April 04, 2020, 09:18:20 AM »
I totally understand. You’re not alone. We are here if you need to talk.



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I take refuge in the Buddha.
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Offline VillainousHero

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Re: Fighting For My Life
« Reply #305 on: April 05, 2020, 08:49:24 AM »
After talking to some family members...what I don't understand is why do some still insist on bringing up some past stuff.  As if I'm am suppose to be angry or mad or hold a grudge or something about it.  When I had, I gave with no conditions.  I gave freely.  If I anything that I did, would I not be the one to bring those things up?  After all I was the one on the receiving end.  I mean I was the one who got blamed for those things of which I was the victim of their results.  And yet, people still want to somehow justify as if they can pass blame.  Why?

Have I not fought enough for a little piece of the life that I have with so little given onto me?  Is that not enough?  I pulled from nothing to make something so little.

This is my father, who gave me life and brought me over to this country.  This is my father who did not know how to be a parent nor even know how to give a shred of respect to his own son.  This is my father who deemed me, unworthy of anything and left me to fend for myself. 

My mom is now, putting conditions of how I should behave.  My mother who birth me and brought me over to this country.  My mother who humiliates me in front of others, even if it's for jest it still hurts a lot.  Now I understand why I have an inherent dislike for passive aggressive personality.  I just realized that it stemmed from my own mother.  Yes, once I told her to stop it.  And now it's defines me as the short fused personality. 

My own ignorance is my own.  I must not understand, that is my own shortcoming.  Do people not understand?  All I wanted is a peaceful coexistence.  I helped freely with no conditions.  When I couldn't, I'm now the bad person.

Stop poking, prodding, stirring, fueling, insinuating, accusing, blaming, assuming, etc.,...

Am I not hurt enough?
Must I fight the pain too?



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Offline VillainousHero

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Re: Fighting For My Life
« Reply #306 on: April 05, 2020, 09:00:17 AM »
My mother told me.

My mother and sister tried to get access to my father's bank account and other billing matters.  They suddenly insisted on getting a translator for my mother.  That translator suddenly said that they will not grant access to give power of attorney over to my sister.  This is what my mom just asked for.

The translator started his spiel about how my sister is going to run off with the money.  Did you not understand that my father has just passed away?  Why do people who only have ill intentions assume that others are going to have ill intentions.



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Offline VillainousHero

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Re: Fighting For My Life
« Reply #307 on: April 10, 2020, 12:36:10 AM »
This past week, it's been nothing but melancholy. 

I try to sleep but don't.  I think I'll put my head down for a spell and turns out it's either three to four hours later or ten to twelve hours later.

I still need to do stuff...



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Offline VillainousHero

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Re: Fighting For My Life
« Reply #308 on: April 14, 2020, 12:25:37 PM »
My father's body is finally laid to rest, as of yesterday.  I can finally say that he is at peace.

You have earned your well deserved rest.



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Offline VillainousHero

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Re: Fighting For My Life
« Reply #309 on: April 23, 2020, 11:12:22 AM »
The reason why I left the military

One day...my commanding officer said this, "What would you do if I put this gun up to your head?"  And he took his 9mm out of it's holster.

My response, "I can put the clip onto my M16 faster than you can put a clip into that 9mm.  Want to test that?" - the full advantage of having a combat speed sling.

That is why I lost trust in my leadership.  I was the entirety, the backbone to the success of the mission.  They cannot afford to lose me if the mission was to be successful.  However the moment that they think they would achieve that success, they were going to get rid of me.  I always had to hold onto that bit, that my value was worth that much, but also keep that away from them.

That is why they kept me from getting the proper promotion and service recognition. 



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Offline VillainousHero

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Re: Fighting For My Life
« Reply #310 on: May 21, 2020, 02:17:29 AM »
So after so many years of driving my Tundra knowing full well of all the mechanical problems...fin ally I got around to getting the majority of it fixed.

The brakes...the muffler and exhausts...wha tever the stupid check engine light keep tripping...the hood latch....

Now the main mechanics of it are fixed.  Drives like almost brand new feel again.  I actually missed the loud resonating exhaust...At least I knew exactly when I gassed it.  Now it's almost too quiet.



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Offline VillainousHero

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Re: Fighting For My Life
« Reply #311 on: May 23, 2020, 05:36:05 AM »
When we used to live in the project homes....

It was a very hard twist of fate.  The very people who wronged me and yet I still went out of my way to save them.  Not once did anyone thank me.  There was no gratitude.  It was the same repeat with the people from the projects homes.   Doesn't matter who you helped or saved, they never even say thanks afterwards.

When I was in third grade, the summer I saw one Hmong girl who was new to the projects home.  She was a very beautiful girl and all the boys liked her and I admit I like her too.  She was fawned over and could easily choose who to be her boyfriend.  But being the short snot nosed kid, of course that would never happen.  Plenty of other Hmong boys who were older and better looking than I was.

So that one day three teenage black kids came and kidnapped her from the playground.  They threatened everyone and all the kids were scared of the three black kids.  Those three black kids were molesting her and planning to rape her.  They were kissing her, holding her down, taking turns to putting their pelvis into hers.  They dragged her into the bushes.  I being the loner I saw it all happening and all the other kids just scared stiff.

It was then that I knew if I got the high ground, I could fight them one on one.  The bushes and the path of that spot made it possible.  The spot was like the secret lover's spot where us kids sometimes play house to say.  I fought like a hell hound, well actually more like a raging monkey.  The over hang of the bushes prevented the taller black teenage kid from standing up fully, but it was fine for a short kid like me.  The biggest thing of fighting in extreme close quarter, was something of using a ground striking technique of reverse punches and kicks.  Add into that something of a finger pinch and twist into the strikes.  Black people have a kind of soft skin where it's easy to pinch if you have the hand grip pinch strength and I have it.

I don't know how fast it was or how long it took.  I just knew that I couldn't stand how they came into my playground area and dehumanized such a beautiful girl.  Those three teenage black kids kept trying to get into the tight space there but I fought them off hard enough.  After they all took some damage they eventually gave up and ran away.  I remember bursting out from the bush almost ready to give chase.  However they already took off.  The girl was crying a lot when I finally calm down some to look at her.  Her dress was ripped in some spots on the shoulder and neck.  I took her home and her mom was giving me the stinky eye look and gave me a verbal abuse of several Hmong words I have no idea what she was saying.

I was suddenly the bad person who hurt her.  I rebuke and try to tell her mom about the three black teenage kids and what they were doing to the girl.  Her mom physically pushed me away and I must have gave her mom the ugliest look ever, cuz her mom hates me every time she sees me on the playground.

By then, it seemed that rumors of me had become so bad that my father finally decided that it was best that we moved.  I didn't understand at the time why none of the other kids would say anything, why none of them would even try to help, why none of them would even try to get an adult to help.  I don't think that any of these kids would know or remember me.  I was always isolated and treated as an outsider and yet I was too naive or dense to have seen it.  It would seem like there was always someone who wanted to fight me.  Not sure why, but in the end they would run away after they couldn't beat me.  Sure they always threw the first punch and I was almost always unprepared for a fight.  I couldn't kick a soccer ball worth anything but I can sure kick the living daylights out of anyone.  Not sure why I being the smallest boy would always end up fighting people who were always bigger and older than me.  I haven't done anything to anyone, except refuse to be someone else's object of hatred.

I do remember that before we moved, my mom told me that I didn't know what I was talking about.   The way that she said it was very insulting.  She told me that I was mispronouncing the other kids names the whole time.  I didn't believe her.  I know what I heard.  I also know that I only had one good ear to hear too.  Yet no one believed me.  No one believed me...not even my own parents believed me. 

Before we actually left the projects homes, I found two of the black teenage kids again.  They saw me and I saw them.  Since there was only two of them, they were sneering but weren't so intimidating.  Or so maybe they thought they could be intimidating, but I picked up a few rocks and I started to chase them.  I threw rocks at them that were almost on target and they got scared and took off even faster.  Can't expect a short snot nosed kid to be able to chase down long legged teenage black kids.

I didn't know that after a few days some of the relatives showed up and we moved away from the projects homes.  I didn't even know we were moving.  I only knew that I didn't sleep in my old bed that night and didn't know which direction was where my old home was.  I thought about the beautiful girl I liked and saved and I only thought that I was never going to see her anymore.



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Offline VillainousHero

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Re: Fighting For My Life
« Reply #312 on: June 29, 2020, 02:18:12 PM »
Why the weird dream...

I dream that I was suddenly selected to be recruited into a human survival project.  Said that we were gonna be quarantine in a massive complex.  Fences were put up.  I was suddenly given a rush physical.  Heck they didn't even give me boots yet and off to the complex project I was transported too.



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The real villain is looking at you.  The last hero was just not true.  If everything works out in the end.  It's because all things make amends.

Offline VillainousHero

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Re: Fighting For My Life
« Reply #313 on: August 01, 2020, 07:41:51 AM »
Why is it that it never fails me on the level of disrespect that people have.?

So often, when I think about how hurt someone is and how much love and healing they need.  Just then on the very next moment, they're insulting someone with such convictions as if the target of attack was somehow at fault.  What then if I suddenly become their next target by simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time?

There is a partial reason why I am introverted dominant and that makes up a huge part of my personality.  In actuality my personality is enforced upon me, by my experiences through interactions of others.  In suspecting someone of being pretentious, it is not that they're hiding something but it's that they're trying to make an influential impression upon those around them.  Like any pecking order, it makes an establishment where, one gets their daily ego and reassures themselves in their place in society.

What I wonder and ponder most over is...Why the need to insult or disrespect others?  Basically why pick fights with other people?




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Offline VillainousHero

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Re: Fighting For My Life
« Reply #314 on: March 24, 2021, 02:10:32 PM »
Strange thought and memory just came to mind.  While I'm thinking of purchasing a bicycle for my daughter, I remember when my dad first took me to buy a bike for me.  The only thing I was thinking was I should pick the bike so that my sisters would ride it.  They kept trying to tell be to pick the boys bike, but I kept picking out the girls bike.  Not once did I ever think, it's going to be my bike, for myself.  I was thinking of others. 



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The real villain is looking at you.  The last hero was just not true.  If everything works out in the end.  It's because all things make amends.

 

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