mansurus

[mansurus]

pinche ricos

[mansurus]

Left here all alone

Just staring at a white wall

Like my dying mom

[mansurus]

Has a brother, but hasn't seen him since he was 15 days old, he's two now. His family recently bought a truck for work, they all took a picture next to it like it was a monumental occasion. I wonder if he sent money to them for it. He showed me a video of 6ix9ine giving a car to his mom, and told me he was an immigrant. I didn't want to bring up that he was a rat, it didn't seem the place. I figured I'd probably be a rat too if it came to it. I asked him he was afraid of being deported, and he said everyday. I noticed the look he had when he saw the house I live in, and noticed the face he had when I dropped him off at his. What a terrible fucking world, but what a good kid. I bought him Wendy's.

[mansurus]

"Buena suerte"

"Tu tambien"

[mansurus]

Corey: nice guy, hard-working. Wanted to impress me, the company. I had no idea why, nobody gave a shit. They just wanted work. He lived in st. Matthew's, a shelter. I don't give a fuck about you, just make my day easier. Came down from Maine. Why? Thinking things would get better? He didn't keep up with politics? What a dumbass. Didn't last three weeks. There's nothing here for us. Get lucky, smart, or get lost. He got lost. Work hard for reasons deep inside you that you don't understand, or get fucked. He got fucked. Stupid bitch.

[mansurus]

Yo se, pero no puedo

[mansurus]

Kevin, listening to american rap:

"no entiendo!"

Me, listening to spanish rap:

"no entiendo!"

[mansurus]

It feels like I'm in a world that doesn't exist, knowing nothing will ever be the same again. No words or text can really explain, my soul feels empty."

[mansurus]

Kevin: “The truth is you are afraid.”

[mansurus]

Romeo:

Smokes weed. Works two jobs to take care of his little brother. His mother is moving but he doesn’t like her so he is staying here. Works in the morning, gets driven here, works another 5 or 6 hours, gets out and wait for his ride just to do it again the next day. Really friendly and likes to work, and always asks what he can do. Likes Spanish trap music and sees himself as a gangster, but is personable and kind-hearted. 

Kevin:

Says he works two jobs and goes to school. Likes to dance and sing. Likes Spanish trap and bachata. Kind of a weird guy, but in a funny way. Must be only 15, and seems to work at least 10 hours a day if not more. Is trying to learn english, and understands a lot even if he doesn’t speak much. Likes 21 Savage because he can understand the English lyrics, but also likes a lot of American rap. Makes me sad in a way i can’t explain, and wish this wasn’t a reality for him at such a young age. 

[mansurus]

I am powerless. I am so weak and small, so pale and thin. My little baby hands flap uselessly at my sides. I still do not know what power is. It’s defined as the ability to change people or change things. And my first thought is why must we always change things? Is change what i fear? No matter how lackluster things may be, i know them as they are and there are no surprises - i’ve settled into a depression that has taken over my entire personhood because the thought of someone not liking me is more than i can bear, even though those people may mean nothing to me. Their changing into other, more hostile forms is what i fear. Don’t talk, don’t move, don’t present yourself as a threat. 

This was supposed to be about power. They are rooted in self-confidence and self-control, in self-discipline and self-love. You must trust, love, be kind to, and respect yourself. These things i’ve never done and are foreign to me. I do not know how to start acquiring any of those things outside of sheer will power? Is that the answer? 

[mansurus]

I don't remember my mom's funeral as much as I wished. I remember bonding with a Tina, who I think was my mom's niece but also could have been something else. I never knew who was who in that family, only how I felt about them. I liked this woman though, my mom always had a soft spot for her and helped her out dozens of times. She had been an addict, prostitute, and just a mess all around. But she was so sweet and sad, and nothing ever seemed to work out for that family.

Anyway, she was kinda having a panic attack like me. We bonded over my mom, sharing anecdotes about how much of a badass she was. She gave me a bunch of Xanax. Suddenly some guys on motorcycles started revving their engines in the parking lot - I don't remember why. She ran out of the building to yell at them about it. I don't think she came back though, and didn't stay for the funeral. She said something like "I'll never be half the badass she was." We just sat in a corner to ourselves, joking about how my mom hated most of the people in room.

I took the Xanax and wanted to nap a few minutes before the service. I found a couch in a back room and laid down. I woke up to my brother shaking me, and saying the service was over and they had been looking for me for an hour. Most of us went to a restaurant, it may have been Spanky's. I tried to join the dinner, but after a while I just asked my brother for his keys and went to lay down in his truck. They came back after a while and that was that.

[mansurus]

I never had friends as a kid. Instead, I would just take my dogs for walks in the woods. There was a trail there, in those back paths, that are somehow instrumental to who I am. At times I think if I could just visualize how that lake there looked, my life would make snese. Somewhere around there was a field, something pure and serene I've never seen since. Once when I did shrooms I felt the same feeling as I did with that field. It was the only time I came close to replicating that essence. My parents and I would walk our dogs there. My mom would run ahead and hide behind a tree, and call for Wolfie to find her. Was her behind that tree the most joyous I ever saw her?

All three of us would pick muscadines on those dirt paths. Is that why my heart hurts whenever I eat one?

[mansurus]

When I was young, I once saw a dead guppy on the bank of a pond. For some reason I decided to try to do compressions on him, and he squirmed with life. I put him back in the pond and he swam away.

I was with my friend who I actually hated. He shot me in the hand with a BB gun and I had a scar ever since. When I was in rehab, I burned myself in that exact spot as a way to replace that memory.

We used to ride go-karts, probably one of the few reasons I hung out with him. His mom was trashy, and the kid and I would wander around breaking stuff or setting fires while my dad fucked her.

He thought it would be funny if I took a picture of his dick with a Polaroid camera, and we got in trouble when his mom found the photo. I had an awkward conversation with my dad about why it happened.

We once dug a hole and I was convinced to let him bury me. We had a hose pumping in it so I could still kinda move in it. Suddenly he turned off the water and the mud dried up, and I was stuck. I started panicking and feeling trapped, and begged him to dig me out. Finally, my dad came running out and got me out. I think I developed a fear or being buried alive because of that.

[mansurus]

My mom lost touch with one of her birth brothers and didn't find him until she was maybe around 40. He was living in Florida and she took me with him to go visit him. He looked a lot like her, and kinda had a same attitude. They got along right away and I remember my mom being overjoyed and it was a happy time for me. He showed me how he would put these lizards to sleep when he rubbed their stomach and I still think of that when I see them skitter around.

He was a dime a dozen, beach bum biker Floridian stereotype. He preyed on my mom's love and longing for family to take thousands from her and stayed in a shed in our backyard for months. His name was Easy and he had a girlfriend Hope. So my dad would make jokes like "it ain't easy having hope" and such whenever they broke up every other week or whatever.

My mom ended up hating him at the end of it all, like she did everyone.

He got brain cancer and died.

[mansurus]

family

I don’t know much about my mom’s biography, oddly enough. She was born in Miami, something I didn’t know until I was in my 20s. She had, I think, 5 siblings. She lived with another, I think 5 step-siblings. Also there was an adopted child. I don’t think she ever knew her birth mother. From what I know, she didn’t really see her until her funeral. I was there for some reason, and I must have been about six. I remember sitting in the pew, looking at my mom and trying to study her reaction. We went up to the coffin. I remember seeing a body but it’s all hazy.

There was a lot of physical abuse and at least some sexual abuse in her household. One of her siblings or step-siblings molested her.

I liked my grandpa though. He was mute from throat cancer, and used a vocalizer to communicate. He was a talented carpenter and I would hang around him and help him make stuff. When he wanted me to get him a beer he had a secret hand sign he used, like popping a can with your thumb.

I got a concussion when i was young, and in the hospital he made me a little wooden statue thing, I still have it and it connects me to my childhood.

According to legend, he was a quarter Cherokee. He did look it, as did my mom in a way, so I always held it plausible enough to feel a vague indigenous American connection.

[mansurus]

One of my uncles I think used to be a trucker. As I recall, he was hijacked once and hit in the head with a brick. He was mentally retarded after that and had a tragic life, relying on the care from family members.

He was prone to seizures. He was walking along the road one day when he had one and fell into a ditch. He drowned in a few inches of water.