Errattic

Home About Us All Fuctasia_(NSFW) Games Gay+ Health/Food Movies Music Musings Photos_(NSFW) TV Wisps Preferences

Home Page > Current Page


Top Tags

Banana Hammock
Beauty
Community
Family
Father
Feminism
Gay
Guns
Machismo
Men
Mother
Sex
Society
Viewers
Violence
Women
Words


Login

Create Profile
Login


This site does not claim credit for images, videos, or music, except where noted.


©2021 Errattic.com

Restricted to Adults
This site does not claim credit for images, videos, or music, except where noted.


Wisps Posts Tagged as 'Myself'

Welcome to Errattic! We encourage you to customize the type of information you see here by clicking the Preferences link on the top of this page.

 

 

I was dreading the call after the whitewashing incident but every Holiday must be observed and I must answer when mother calls. It started with a celebration of how she diagnosed my stepfather's stroke two days ago. The doctor confirmed it today. "I can diagnose shit right away," she brags. Obviously, not in enough time to call the ambulance when he was skidding all over the kitchen. We hit Corona next. Did she hear that Florida was having a surge? No, she did not but she saw wild parties on the news that disturbed her. Because mama had surgery and stepdad just stroked I recommended social distancing for a while. "For how long?" As long as it takes, mother. "Well, I can't live like that... in a cage. Besides, that only happens if you have 200-300 guests." True but every family member has a different job, with opposing safety methods, families with other families and friends with other friends and jobs and children. It's not safe. "I'm not living in fear!" "It's for your grandchildren's protection too," I said. Don't you care about them?" Nope, God will watch over us. We've done fine until now." I said luck runs out. Voices reached Mariah pitch, feelings were unraveled and hate was all that remained. I reiterated the white boy assumption and she claimed she never said it but confirmed I was not black. She chose a random green color to describe me. Kermit? I told her she was ashamed of marrying a Black Puerto Rican and she hyperventilated the pointy part of the island flag into my brain. We weren't listening anymore, just yelling at each other like the neighbors from "Network." She told me I didn't have a heart. I only had heart for the dicks that kidnapped and raped me. I told her its because my family sucked. " I bet you never fought them like you're fighting me!" I got the life I deserved because I never followed her advice. "But I did!"Her life was my education and downfall. (Hurt emoji) 01-Jan-2021

Tags: Mental Health, Mother, Myself, Puerto Rican, Relationships, Sad, Women In Charge

Permalink

01-Jan-2021


 

I cured my mother of whitening me like toothpaste. I used a racist factual history rinse with a white witness to counter her tooth decay. You can call or text them, mother. (Sorry guys. ) They were there. They will confirm. "Oh no, I'm sure it happened," she claims. (Sorry again guys, don't answer.)

My mother was forced to marry my father to cut whatever hold/hate my grandmother had on/for her. Mother was a wild woman in love with the village chunk that my grandmother despised and didn't want near. Daughter's energy needed stifling. I don't know the details but an agreement was struck between my father and abuelita that sent my mother out of Dodge and a better life but away from her fairy tale cowboy. That guy erupted during our preteen years. On a vacation to Puerto Rico before a "real daddy" makeup session stopover, she introduced us to the man that inhabited her hometown and her dreams. He came out of nowhere and hit us like rockets. She praised him like the most handsomest superhero but he was just a cowboy. Hotdiggity, he was available to see her again and her children after all this coincidental time apart. I was not pleased but my sister was furious. During meet and greet mother commented that my sister and I would have looked like his children had she married him when she was supposed to. It's the only time my sister and I did science together. "If we were white!" "Thank God, he wasn't our father! We would have been ugly!" is what my sister said. My sister's plan was to disrupt their honeymoon dinner and sabotage any chance of them canoodling secretly. We spent the whole night running from balcony to balcony rudely interrupting. It's too bad. The food was delicious and the atmosphere was grand.

My mother can't face the idea that she married a black Puerto Rican.

Oh, Oh... to fully annoy her, I called Trump papi. Like "papi Trump got us more money." 30-Dec-2020

Tags: Heritage, Mental Health, Mother, Myself, Racism, Respect, Responsibility

Permalink

30-Dec-2020


 

GIF: they always find a way in.
My worst case scenario has come true. I have to relive the aspects of my life I was frightened to visit. I am a needy person. As such I need to acquiesce to the support (family) that saves, not the one of invention (gay.) I have faith now because how else could I survive. It is family prayer that gives me breath. But I don't believe. Stop the crap. This is why you suffer. Because you won't let him in. "But..." I give out benedictions and prayers to everyone as I crack inside. My mother cries that I never gave her a grandchild. I kiss God's lips for hearing me on that one. "Gay was a failure or you wouldn't have come crawling back." I didn't come crawling back. They tracked me down. I was made to believe gay would be beautiful, romantic and forever. I didn't know I was in a cesspool of perverts. My sexual predators are now bffs, the meanest people are my mentors and I keep asking what did I do so wrong? I wanted to die in peace. 27-Dec-2020

Tags: Family, Mental Health, Myself, Parenting

Permalink

27-Dec-2020


 

One of the most mystifying gifts my mother laid on me this year is for me to stop pretending to be black and just be white. She's never seen me as anything but, so it is so. Racism doesn't apply to me because she's always seen me as white. LOL. It was said in an advisory tone to offset future guilt. Head explosion. If I went outside right now and declared I was white they would shoot me. I'm not black because my hair don't kink, she says. (2 blunts.) My nephews and nieces are black because their fathers and mothers are really black. There are no black people in Puerto Rico. They're Indian. Body collapse. 25-Dec-2020

Tags: Environment, Errattic, Family, Hostility, Ignorance, Mental Health, Myself, Parenting, Political Correctness, Saving The Environment!, Superiority, Survival, Women In Charge

Permalink

25-Dec-2020


 

Mother's stratagem to keep a working daddy closer is to never let him know he was doing a banging good job. "Make them sweat, make them wonder but if you want to keep 'em don't ever tell them how great they are." I got it. The more a man thinks he's great the more chances of fulfilling the crippling desire to open other people's presents. Irk that one good spot left in his brain and he'll keep coming back around to try to figure it out. I can see a woman's idea of entrapment there. It suddenly occurred to me to accidentally apply it to a guy I was dating. He was daddy perfection and ejaculatory squish. After an aerobic session he asked me to concur that is was one of our best. Even though it was, I told him I had better. He topped himself every single time and I always answered the same. Why did I do that? I sadly dumped him because he was a camper. He kept threatening that we couldn't extend our relationship unless I went camping with him. Black daddies and city Puerto Ricans don't do woods. It doesn't make sense. He was one of the greatest but I don't camp.

My step-father must wonder with every dying breath, "why did l try so hard? She was never satisfied." 21-Dec-2020

Tags: Gay, Life, Marriage, Mental Health, Mother, Myself, Parenting 101, Sex, Women In Charge

Permalink

21-Dec-2020


 

Tags: Life, Myself, Survival

Permalink

11-Dec-2020


 

An effect of sexual abuse is that you inherit a victim's persona even if you've surpassed it and predator abusive comprehension. The survivors are damaged goods pretending to blend into a world that's flashed forward around you. Our vulnerabilities succumb to the first clever wolf that help incorporate us into the new world so that we fit in and hate it. To cope, we become the victims they are. They are our daddy saviors. We think that the next one will fix what the other one did because this one is different. At least half of my LTRs were straight men with penchant for wee ones. They were not in denial about their sexuality they were just hiding. I happened to hit the jackpot.

My mother finished ex violence with more violence. The end to my abuse was to sucker punch the croc in the middle of Manhattan for stalking me at work and every where else. He fell down as a grandmother yelled "yeah, punch that old motherfucker!" She didn't even know our business. Everyone surrounded me to make sure I was all right and he ran off bloodied and embarrassed. MY mother and I never saw our stalkers again, my mother's broken bones and heart healed, her ex's bones got WWF broken and I moved back to my mother's house. I re-encountered my mother's ex, riding on an unlighted subway car after work. I wasn't sure until we descended from the tunnels and out into outdoor light. It was him, he had healed and was seething. His eyes bore through me and I felt a chill and a scent. Every flicker of light cast a Hitchcock shadow as I froze for fuck's sake. I had beat him once but it was a tough battle. Illegal drugs made him Hulkean. Even lesbian cop kickassers couldn't bring him down. He stared eerily at me through the longest ride of my life. (I will not bore you with rest.) 27-Oct-2020

Tags: Conclusion, Gay, History, LGBTQ, Life, Mother, Myself, Relationships, Representation, Sex

Permalink

27-Oct-2020


 

I came out to my mother when I was 17 years old and no longer residing in her household. I didn't expect a good reaction so I called her on a public phone and announced it to her. She cried, became quiet and told me she suspected it but that she loved me, no matter what. I didn't have to lie to mother anymore. It was freeing. I visited her a few days later. She had time to absorb and ponder having a gay son. She cried again, I asked why and she said because being gay meant I was destined for a miserable life. That's impossible, it was such an overwhelming feeling to be me. I had to prove her wrong. She asserted conditions for my new identity: no meeting of "my men," I must continue to have a masculine presence, especially around family and don't get sick. I ignored her, introduced her to every one, told as much of the family as I could bear and kept my masculinity in check.

My mother recently confided to me that she used to receive dick pics from my croc daddy in the US mail while I was living with him. I thought, he might have done it as revenge for my unwillingness to absorb giant dick pain and or tricking him into being a gay bottom. When I took him to Gay Pride he cried because he thought I mistook him for one of those. He was straight. His shit was no joke but he was. A child molester was my educator and entrance into the gay world. I also figured my mother and I were even. Her boyfriend tried to brutally rape me. Mother's boyfriend was two years older than me, my croc daddy was 55. Our boyfriends shared the same culture, understood the nuances that make people vulnerable, and always seemed to be creepily plotting something sexual for us. Neither man represented our community. They were perverts sidling up to mommies so they could play with their children. (Now I know why she tried to cut him out of my photo albums.) I understand her comments and I realized her concern. My gay education came from perverts. The community hates itself more than the media loves it. Clicks work for a minute, the families we create are fake and we all die alone. We need less "Boys In The Band" depression and more gay reality awareness so we can come up with better coping mechanisms. Not smile at weirdos taking advantage of us because of politically correct etiquette.

I apologized to my mother. My croc stalked me, stole from us, used me, beat me up, tied me up and raped me. Afterwards, he thought of not releasing me because he was afraid I would kill him. You bet your life! But I had no choice, I begged for my life, stroked the psycho's ego and he loosened one arm while he Soniced out of the apt. I was stalked by my ex, my mother was stalked by her ex and I was stalked by both exes. I spent a lifetime trying to prove mother's sentiment wrong but in the end, she was right.

(Pic of my daddy croak included. Mother destroyed my croak dic picks but y'all can ask mother if she kept her copy.) 26-Oct-2020

Tags: Abuse, Awareness, Environment, Family, Fear, Gay, Heritage, Latin, LGBTQ, Machismo, Men, Mental Health, Mother, Myself, Psychology, Sex, Treatment, Violence

Permalink

26-Oct-2020


 

I broke up with a boy bander because he sang to me before sex and while showering. He was either humming or licking my face. I dug him, he whipped his braids back and forth and unleashed them in a soundless cavalcade of excitement but his vocal training took precedence over my feelings. So, I represented my Seinfeldian upbringing and broke his heart. I apologized profusely but I don't regret it. He deserved to be loved for it. I was a fan of his band music, encouraged his talent but being "sung to" is my Jerry "big hands" greatest fear. I just can't do it. 28-Sep-2020

Tags: Music, Myself, Relationships

Permalink

28-Sep-2020


 

I used to be the family go-to babysitter. You dare say its because my sister and I were the only colored ones and the kids were deathly afraid of her so I was the only choice? (Only the fear for my sis was real. I think.) I paid attention to them and weaved magical tales that released their imaginations. I showed them the place in my brain where they can go to find a choice and be safe. I shooed their nightmares away. I taught them to move forward to deepen the stories and find resolutions until they could run. It blew them away.

As adults they thanked me for being their only father figure. I was very touched and saddened. Everyone actually thought I'd be a great father one day. I did not. I worry too much. I know what really happens. I was a child, taking care of other children that needed to be entertained and protected. I lived the exact hardships so I handed them some survival tips.

I forget that I also co-parented a child. We (the gay daddies) applied everything social media deemed safe, respectful and representative of a new better world. I concocted favorite meals and experimental creations, picked up after it and endured its ills. We cheered and celebrated everything, we supplied, it demanded, its dads were bonkers but cool, its mother was nuts and married to Archie Bunker with scary reality boys but we kept the humor dry to help the teen laugh. My co-child and I shared music, games, TV and films. Its worries and thoughts I tried to comfort. It's teen brain no longer cracked but there were times I saw a glimmer of bonding in it. Then it grew up and become a Repnazi, realized my color and place and it all went to hell. It was A.I. beginnings with Damien: Omen II resolutions, right through the end. Awareness: most children do not want to be like their fucking parents and they will fuck you up.

Look at that, I had me some children. 25-Sep-2020

Tags: Irony, Myself, Parenting

Permalink

25-Sep-2020


 

I didn't need to see my color on a Hollywood screen when I was growing up. I was a soul man. If they sounded like me and thought like me, I followed them. If they had life ideas worth retrieving I worshipped them. I devoured their art and shared beautiful things of greatness and fleeting joy. I've been idiotically and forcefully enslaved throughout my life. My lack of new etiquette is offensive because it was taught me by masters of social worship. Im just the asshole warning you with a smile. I've witnessed too many mommy (Biden) and daddy (Trump) fistfights to not predict its stupid end. (You can switch them around if that's your sexual fantasy.) I fought the war that got me here that gets passed down and gave me nothing. In my future, I live where heroes are not necessarily of my kind but helped create my heart, my soul, my joy and that thing that makes people wanna fuck you. It's a safe place for me to go. 23-Sep-2020

Tags: Aging, Entertainment, Imagination, Myself

Permalink

23-Sep-2020


 

Just for the frack of it and because it's Sunday on the Galactica I would like to state that no trans, drags, beautiful damsels in distress, female porn stars, female strippers or my mother (thank God) has ever raped or been sexually inappropriate towards me. They flirted (not mother, she took her job seriously) and made cute but they never crossed sexy safety lines unless it was mutual. Let me see, who's left.. 20-Sep-2020

Tags: Abuse, Myself, Sex

Permalink

20-Sep-2020


 

I miss mother/son activities like squishing birds together. 19-Sep-2020

Tags: Mother, Myself, World Peace

Permalink

19-Sep-2020


 

My second and third bullies happened in sixth grade. (My sissy will always be my first.) They were two seasons older, swagging adult height and athletic strength. They were going to kick my ass and all I could think of was that school wasn't like The Brady Bunch... at all. I don't remember what I blurted or how they inspired it but I promise you it was sarcastic and weird as fuck. They started to laugh. I remember the prettier one slapping his in hand in mine and telling me I was alright. "Anybody mess with me will have to answer to them." They were a team." If anybody hassled me, any basketball team member in close proximity would fuck them up. I made them laugh and they silenced every attack during their reign and after. From sixth to eighth I was astonishingly protected. Crap! School "is" like the Brady Bunch. Shit! I'm Peter Brady! My sister thought she was Marcia because she was older and cooler but she was really Cindy. Always getting into a fight and snitching. 13-Sep-2020

Tags: Myself

Permalink

13-Sep-2020


 

To appease my place in the world (I'm an odd duck) I daydreamed I was from outer space. My space parents would return one day from galactic war, and save me from my sheltered and disciplinary life, whisking me off to somewhere I belong. The theme resonated, the exploration peaked and now, the idea is dead. I don't speak or learn like anyone. I obsess over the knowledge I've accumulated. A chunk of that knowledge is incomplete. When the world figures the outcome to a life puzzle they go out and experience it. I immediately cancel it. That's me obsessing. "I am not like anyone" was cute when they wanted to fuck the weirdness out of me but I don't want to be cute in my 50s. I thought I could be my odd self living with my brothers and sisters in unity and serenity where I could happily swim but we are one without of a kind. The world became too fast. The elders received no consideration by the complexities of tech (I don't see the reason why we need to decode everything when that's a techie's job. It should have a three button maximum) and the obliteration of our language. We either explode (Karens are born, though I've always preferred Gladys - wink, wink) or give up (volunteered dementia.) The life we lived was a Matrix lie. We stand naked without the comfort of our past because our lives were nothing. We tiptoe through the new one in limbo because the history that made us, the burdens don't want. The war is as much about family and parenting as it is about everything else. The privileged assholes jumped ship as soon as they graduated from Pedo Tech, leaving the uncomplicated in a sad and overwhelmed state. We are the deleted ones. The ones not applicable to the environment. We are slaves to the new honorable and humanitarian corporation that is loosely based on movie ideals. It looks like they stand for shit when its just the other side of the same coin. I like to deduce my own answers and I'm tired of bowing. I just want to survive. I trashed my knees for nothing. Every insult I've hurled, I've received, every love that I've experienced I shared. It's the end of the road. The aliens either don't exist or after the countless anal analyzations they booked. What were the results? The reason we can't reach other planets is because that's where our afterlife begins. We'll keep ending back here until we reach Star Wars reality. We are the aliens. We've been searching for ourselves. 07-Sep-2020

Tags: Myself, Viewers

Permalink

07-Sep-2020




Next Page