#and when i tried calling on friday they didnt pick up the motherfuckers

[kasnudel]

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[book-of-ryker]

When the Navy found out I smoked marijuana, I was at a firing range. I had an M-4 and an M-9, one being an automatic rifle, the other a pistol.

They disarmed me immediately, and I remember knowing why they did.

In the twenty seconds it took me to walk over to the disarming barrel, my thoughts were, “Pull the pistol out, put the barrel in your mouth and pull the trigger” for as many times I could mentally repeat before I lost the opportunity. I called my dad while a Chief was on his way to pick me up.

After the phone call, I deleted all of my Facebook messages at the recommendation of my father.

All of my text messages. too. My dad swore the Chief wasn’t my friend, and would screw me over at his first chance and not to tell him anything, at all.

The deleted threads of conversations with people who either didn’t exist anymore, or we had stopped talking.

I must have chain smoked about fifteen cigarettes in the hour and a half it took for this Chief to arrive.

All the while, I had been wishing that I had the courage to just pull that fucking trigger.

That anxiety was unbearable.

I went to a DRB, which is where I stand in front of a bunch of senior enlisted military.

At first, I came in with my shoulders back , military discipline and all. At the end, I was escorted out by a compassionate Master Chief, and I was bawling.

I have wanted to kill myself for as far back as I can remember. I smoked weed because all of my pain in life is unbearable and my mind never shuts the fuck up.

I don’t understand reality the way everyone seems to and it’s isolating, like being in the dimension next door.

"Most everyone who doesn’t know me resents me. Most everyone who knows me tolerates me," I tell myself.

I sat outside and cried, blubbering to these senior enlisted folks.

As a Second Class Petty Officer with all of the skills that I had possessed. I was in the United States Navy for five long years, and nine excruciating months and two awkward days.

I had been to mental health multiple times in my  Naval career. The first psychiatrist that I ever spoke to was at NATTC Pensacola.

It’s not even six months of me getting out of the Navy now...

My present life finds me in this bed at some house in South Carolina, Like a muscle, those words stream across my mind like a teleprompter, “You should have died on that day. You should have fucking killed yourself.”

And for myself, I finally gave myself the courage to tell myself, “No.” "I love you for just who you are. I love the way you think, I love the way you handle thing[s] (most of the time ^.^), I love what you do. You have a very solid and strong mind, you think things through very thoroughly, and you have a very good outward perspective. I don't know if that helps, but that's the best I can come up with while working." Let me tell you what I think happened before I tell you why I think we should reconnect. I'm 26 years old and the one and only thing in my life that I regret, to this day, is what I once said simply to hurt you. I was an awful boyfriend for you. Not all of the time, obviously. But my only regret comes from when I said out of annoyance and irresponsibility, 'I guess you're going to have to celebrate Thanksgiving without your boyfriend or your mom.." You eyes glazed over me. You slumped over. And you sobbed. I walked towards you and hugged you because that sort of rage-to-regret is exactly the kind of Bipolar Disorder that I am used to. It's been my entire life, Nicole. It's all I have ever known. Albeit, the worst of it all is over and I'm just waiting for all of my hopes and dreams to bloom into the flowers I have been cultivating. The night we went to Twin Peaks was the night you said goodbye, even though you never did. You and I both are aware that we would come across each other someday, I think. I don't have any proof for that delusion/hope, but hey, I don't know everything which means I have unfettered access to being totally wrong and totally right, until one of us is deceased. I do remember being in absolute bliss that night we met up and you were drunk with me in the Whataburger drive through and that's about all I have for that. Mike and I moved out of the house because we wouldn't be able to renew the lease before I had to get my new job in the Navy. I moved into an apartment on the second floor and I got a dog named Itachi. I did loads of LSD that I'd gotten and I had a REALLY FUCKING AWFUL TRIP with Hailey Campbell (also tripping) and Rian Nobles (not tripping). I went to my grandmother's funeral in New York with my Dad and Alex. I found out that my photographic memory is real because I reminded my Uncle about the fit my brother went into at the LAST funeral we gathered. Which was Renee's. I lived with Lauren Teston for a long time after that. I started smoking weed because, Nicole, I didn't know what to do.. Everyone has always left me, and I only NOW understand why: me. But I didnt see it like that. It didn't feel like that.. It didn't feel like I had an emotional problem. I didn't know. But in retrospect, Nicole, my emotions felt like a chainsaw to my insides. Our breakup was the healthiest breakup for me, and it was also the worst. (2020 readers, it got way worse) I didn't leave for California until right before October 10, 2016. I was trained to be an Engine Mechanic by the Seabees and I learned a fuck ton about cars. I did more PT than anywhere else in my military career. Every Friday was a 4:30 A.M., seven mile run with the whole school. Really, it was a fourteen mile run, but it makes me sound less of a douche if I say seven, maybe. I came home on leave for Christmas and I smoked even more weed. I came back to California to finish my school. Byy the way, there were two onomatopoeia's in a barracks room together: Petty Officer Quackenbush and Petty officer Miao (this or 'mao' is also the Chinese word for cat") I left Port Hueneme after meeting Johnny Depp in L.A. I drove, for the third time, across the country. I was at Gulfport, Mississippi for a few months, learning combat procedures with the Seabees. I pissed hot in Gulfport. I wrote a poem that I'll attach later about what that was like. I went to some military proceedings, reduced in rank,  lost a lot of money, had to go to two different hospitals for one month. I first went to Garden Park Hospital for a suicide watch that I had been placed under after the military proceedings had broken me down to where I couldn't take it anymore. I bawled my eyes out to men I'd never met because I could no longer believe that people didn't care about me. I was suicidal given the circumstances, but I was suicidal before I ever got caught smoking. The only reason I smoked was because I didn't want to be suicidal. A 51 year old woman tells me at this place that she, "Would be surprised if I never heard of you again. I stayed at Emerald Coast Behavioral Health (This is when I called you in 2017) and I learned an entirely different way of living. I was told that I have Bipolar Disorder I, Major Depressive Disorder, Anxiety, Osteochrondroma in the left knee. I was told a handful of tools to help myself become a better person. I then went to restriction, which is where a person is constantly monitoring me while I do nothing but work and survive. I did that for forty five days which dragged forever. I left. I stayed with my dad and I had a good first month out of the Navy. I was happy. I was excited and nervous and terrified. I smoked SO much more weed. I drank SO much more booze. And cigarettes. I was helping my dad build a deck in the backyard. My car was repossessed about one and one half months after getting out. I had nothing. I started working under the table as a contractor for a few months, but my mom and I got into a fight and I was kicked out of the house for the second and last time of my life. I moved in and slept on a friends floor. He had a bum knee from a recent surgery and so I quasi-morphed into his at-home nurse. Started doing dabs and malt liquor with friends. Eating popcorn for food, drawing outside for five hours, drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes. I did this for a month until my depression (booze) had become evil. I tried hanging myself on a dog line and I had to leave their house.. I stayed with my dude Sam for a few days and then moved in with my brother for a day. I feel nothing for him anymore, and so I really dont want to elaborate about this because he will always be a peace of shit. I went to a music festival that got shutdown by a hurricane. I got to do LSD/blow/weed for free because I was working security and I have worked with the team before. Hell, the guy in charge personally handed me $275 because of how badass of a watchstander I am. I then migrated to Asheville, North Carolina where my eyes were opened to the world we live in. And how great a thing love is, Nicole Renee Gable. But after this, I really had nowhere to go. That is until I remembered that I knew a guy from when I was in Japan.. We only ever really interacted in the smokepits. After he found out I had been sleeping on the floor of my friends house, he told me that if I was ever in South Carolina that he had a guest bedroom waiting for me. I lived with him and his wife and their son while I got a job as a forklift driver at BMW. I got another car (since been repossessed, not as debilitating for me now). I moved out and lived with a dude that I thought was a friend. He ended up being a real twat of a motherfucker. Before I knew he was a real dullard, I left BMW about two weeks of me living with him. It was too military.A HUGE millitary-industrial complex. He fucked me over so that I had nowhere to go and I didnt have a job. He left. I had the apartment by myself. It was a blur of events past that. Between the weed, the booze and the mental health issues, I am grateful to be writing this. This guy's stripper girlfriend (Her name is Sam and she's nice as well as bananas) came to find me in a fucked up mess of my own doing at the apartment. After I came to, she and I decided that I needed to check myself into a mental health center. With no insurance. I had only a few boxes of stuff (I drove down to Florida at one point to get my shit). After I was in for a week (I know what I'm about and the solutions I need), I got a job working as a cook in a strip club. The BEST job I ever had because I actually made some good money. (30 girls dancing in one night with $5 tips to me is a lot of moolah) However, I didnt make enough money to stay. I only made enough money to leave. I bought two edibles and had a nice relaxing eight hour drive to a friend's house in Pennsacola We had a personal falling out/disagreement. I worked as a line cook at Slimz at the Al Fresco in Pensacola. I saved up money to come out to California. I'm with one of my few best friends, Tymothy. Upon my arrival here, my car was repossessed (I bought in South Carolina, which is fucking crazy that they found me). My life is coming together though, Nicole. I am generally happy in my day to day lifestyle. I'm hoping to be officially retired from working for the rest of my life within this next year. It turns out that there was A HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE scandal in the Navy and I'm going to use my genius mind to collect the disability that I deserve. Monthly, that payment could land anywhere between $800-2900.. For the rest of my life. I have an amazing home loan that I will get to use once the ball has begun rolling. Nicole, I really dont think I love you as much as I should have and that bothers me. Not in a negative way, at all. It makes me feel like I need to write this email to you. Like I owe you more for what you gave me, Nicole Gable. You might not see it, Nicole. The only reason I ever went along with the mental health is so that we could have a healthy relationship together. Whatever that even fucking means as far as the definition goes. Hell, for all I know, you could be seriously dead or worse. You could be dating somebody.. 😝 I havent dated anyone quite seriously. I've been on a couple of dates here and there, but I just didn't/don't care. I hope that all of these women find someone that loves them as much as I know I can love you someday, if you could ever trust me... If you're with someone, I seriously hope they love you as much as space-time can hold matter and energy and light and dark matter. The greatest lesson I have learned since we spoke last is that we will live our lives from the shades of fear and the radiations of love. I love and accept myself now. I love myself exactly how you once loved me. I don't know where on this rock you are, but if you'd like to never have to work again, please reach out to me. I would be honored, if you would ever be willing. It's still going to be a few months, so you can think about this for awhile..? If you ever wanted to live in California with me someday, I mean. Hell, we could be roomates. You could wear chastity belts and Amish outfits all year round . I don't know anything.. I hope that this email finds you well. I hope it has given you smiles. I hope you have a blessed day. [Update]  It is now the year 2020.  I am.  The world is the world. Hell is hell.  We’re all stuck on a rock in the middle of nowhere.  If there’s someone reading this, be aware: you do not exist. This is my spaceship.