Reflection Is The Worst

Reflection is the worst. Sure it’s nice to reminisce about the “good ol days”, only sometimes you remember the “bad ol days” as well. You get to see how much you’ve grown, yet the bad shit you did, you did that shit. So you may have come far in life, but you can never get away from your beginnings.

I say all this because someone recently told me that I’ve grown a bit. And that they were proud of me. For what? For doing what I’m supposed to? For being a little less of an asshole than usual on that particular day? Because that’s all it is. I was caught on a good day, at a good moment in time.

What cracks me up is the people who actually like me. And I use the term like because I don’t think anyone loves me. And that’s on me. I make it hard as fuck sometimes. But I have friends who truly like me, and that’s more than I can ask for in this life, considering the destruction I left in my wake. So I’ll take a “likeday of the week.

I heard a song this week that hit hard. It was about one not loving one’s self. And I don’t. But I just wanna be in the majority, and not the minority. And that majority is not a fan. But the minority is the group that always shows their support and I am eternally grateful for them.

But I digress. I just wanna love me. And I want someone to love me. But that’s not in the cards for me. I chase everyone away. And I get brave and say “I love you” to someone, and the response given is *crickets*. Again, I get it. But people will never hate me as much I do.

I have this image of myself as likable. But it’s just a new car smell. It’s funny and a breath of fresh air at first. Operative words in that sentence being “at first”. But just like a new car smell, it wears off. And when you have clinical depression, it’s hard to “keep your head up”. Or to “think positive”. I wish it were that easy.

And that shit is hard for people to wanna be around. And I can’t get mad at anyone for that. Hell, I’d be out if I could. Sadly, not an option for me. But the best part is when someone tells me to just “stop being sad”. LOF’NL Why didn’t I think of that?

And it hurts when family thinks I am doing this to be noticed. Nobody notices me anymore, and hasn’t for a while now. So why do I want those people to notice me? Hell, most days I just want left alone. Left alone, and wanted to be noticed and loved at the same time. Figure that one out and get back to me. Lol But the ones who are supposed to forever have your back, your family, always seem too busy, or just over my shit in general. Me too, peeps. Me too.

So do I wanna look back fondly and reflect? Of course I do. The question becomes is there anything to look back fondly on? And that people, is the Million dollar question.

So before anyone starts with the “Why the depressing blog post?” questions, it’s something I do as a release. Because if I don’t get this shot out when I’m feeling this way, then the only thing I wanna release is the blood from my veins via a razor. So that’s why.

If you’re still ready after all this incessant babbling, then I thank you. For caring enough to not tune out. I love you all, and I’ll leave you with this:

Death by 1000 cuts refers to an ancient method of torture in which numerous small cuts were made on a victim’s body. None of the cuts were deadly by themselves, but the combination of them would cause them to die a slow, painful death. In psychology, it refers to small issues that are overlooked until they add up to something too big to ignore. Sometimes I question which version of the phrase is worse.

How I Feel Today

How I feel today can be best described as…. nonexistent. Numb. Cold. With no end in sight to any of the above stated feelings. Everyone just always says, “Well, just think positive.” Tried that too. And it worked for a while. But then everything went to shit again. Sometimes, I swear I’m a negativity magnet. Just the center for all things that suck to navigate towards.

And if I didn’t have the bestest of friends, and a few family members that truly gave shit, I would’ve been out of here years ago. But that feels too much like quitting. But this way that I feel, the constant emptiness, the constant loneliness, it has to quit. Or I’m gonna have to make it quit. I can’t continue this way. But again, no end in sight to these feelings.

I reach out, and the people that respond just seem like their sick of my bullshit. And I can’t blame them. I’m pretty sick of me these days, too. And then there’s all the ones that don’t answer. Who are the same ones to claim to want to be there when “things get tough.” Or to be there “forever”. Or use the word “Always.” Because those words are bullshit. Because people have to watch out for their own. And I get that. Just really sad that I’m never in the category of anyone’s own.

There’s no real point to this blog, just a release of a little bit of the bad feelings, I guess. Wanting someone to give a fuck when there is no one who wants to give a fuck. And as much as it sounds like one, this is not a “Woe Is Fonty” post. I know it’s mostly the depression talking and some others are worse off. This is just how I feel today.

Otis Redding said it best in the words of his song Sittin’ On The Dock Of The Bay.

I’m sittin’ here restin’ my bones

And this loneliness won’t leave me alone

Amen, brother. Amen.

The Everflowing Sadness

Most days when I smile, there’s still an everlasting sadness hidden underneath. A constant feeling of sadness. An ever flowing faucet, constantly serving up rivers of unhappiness on levels that even I don’t understand.

Most days, I wanna be the reason for someone’s smile. Instead, I end up being the reason for people’s frown’s. And who tf wants that? Who wants to the anchor in all their friends lives, consistently bringing them down just because you’re down? The answer is nobody.

But somehow, the sadness faucet always flows. Even on my happiest of days, the faucet comes to a slow, steady drip, but never to a full stop. So in the midst of my happiest days, sadness looms. Just waiting for it’s chance to ruin the day.

So how do I get myself better? I don’t. Just push the shit down, & keep it going, as to not fuck up anyone else’s day, which I still end up usually doing. I just wanna be happy.

So many deaths recently, so much quarantine, so much loneliness, the depression just fueled itself. I stopped talking to people. I said things I thought was funny, that others clearly did not. And I should’ve known better. But somewhere, deep down, the depression monster flipped the self-sabotage switch. And I went full Fonty.

I swear, sometimes I’m like a teenager. Emotionally. Unable to deal, can’t really process, so I just toss the issues aside. Never dealt with. Just laying in wait to strike. I don’t know. Just really sick and tired of being sick and tired.

Tell the carney to stop the ride. I want to get off. It’s not fun here no more. I no longer wanna play. Some of my favorite people reach, I don’t respond. Not because I don’t want to speak to them, but because I don’t want my shit to spill out onto them.

And the one’s I do let close, I feel bad for them. Because they have to deal with me. But selfishly I don’t keep them at bay, because I can’t. For my own selfish reasons. To keep me happy.

I don’t wanna be around me, and I don’t understand, can’t comprehend, why others would wish to. One day this will all go away for good. The sooner, the better.

This Sucks

This sucks. The most. The worst thing about sudden loss is the lack of closure. Wish I just hear him say something. Anything. I’d settle for a “you’re fired”. I hate the I never came to grips with how much of a friend, a second dad, how much more than a boss he was.

You would think by now, I’d be use to loss. Cuz everyone leaves. Friends, lovers, whatever. Everyone leaves. But again, the sudden loss. It leaves hurt. Leaves all the unsaid things. The shoulda, coulda, woulda’s.

Me and Jay fought like cats and dogs. But we would also do shit I don’t do with anyone else, like have meals. I eat with friends occasionally, but never consistently. I talk to people, but never daily. But Jay and I talked daily.

And that bothers me the most. Not that fact that he didn’t tell me something was wrong with him, that anything was wrong with him. Just the fact that I guess he felt that he couldn’t tell me anything.

But I’ve always been that guy. The only nobody wants to confide in. The one people would rather dip away from, then lean into for support. I don’t know. I’m shattered. This hurts.

Jay was like a second dad to me at times. My dad even said so. Ha! But seriously, dad even noticed the impact Jay had on me. It hit him a little because he spoke to Jay so frequently. The world truly took a hit with this one.

Because underneath the hardcore exterior was a caring man who loved his family, loved his employees, loved his friends. He would act like the toughest guy from time to time, but in the position he was in, owning a company, he had to be hard. He had to let people know he wasn’t one that could be walked over. And I get it.

I hate that I didn’t tell him I get it. I didn’t tell him thank you. For being there for all the stuff no one knows about. For being the good guy in a world full of asshole. Thank you. And now I can say is goodbye. Goodbye, my friend. I hope the afterlife treats you as well as you treated so many of us here on this earth.


Just when I think I get used to be alone, that’s when the loneliness sets in. And it’s not the Karen Carpenter “All By Myself” type alone, neither. I can be in a room full of people, and still feel the loneliest I’ve ever felt. And how do you cure the incurable? I don’t think it’s possibly, personally.

I think I just suffer from terminal emptiness. And that’s what sucks. Knowing there is no help. No light at the end of the tunnel for this guy. Just a feeling I live with till I don’t any longer. Every one I love leaves, and “forever” just ain’t as long as I once thought it was.

Don’t get me wrong, I make it easy on no one. And I can’t really get mad at anyone for wanting to dip the fuck out. One of the funniest meme’s I have ever read said, “If you can’t me at my worst, I don’t blame you – that shit is ridiculous.” Something has never been soooo me and made me soooo mad at the same time before. I really need no enemies in life. Because I’ve got me.

I do so much damage, and then get mad like somebody else is at fault. What the fuck is wrong with me? So many things, so we’ll just leave that question for another time. We’re not even 2 months into 2020 and this has been one of the worst years for me yet. I would say, “How could it get any worse?”, but won’t for fear of the universe actually showing me the answer.

I try to make it good days, anymore. I really do. I read positive daily affirmations to myself, I listen to self-esteem e-books that are supposed to subliminally enhance my mood subconsciously. No go there. Try to block negative things on social media, but there’s just so much. Thinking about taking a break from social media, from the world even soon.

It’s not like I hang out with anyone, or have anyone clamoring to hang out with me, either. So it’s really no big whoop. But something’s gotta change. Cuz I don’t like whiny bitch Fonty and he’s the only version I see anymore. I don’t know. Till next time I guess. Or maybe not. We’ll see.

A Flip of the Ol Switch

Life is funny and scary sometimes. Over the course of two weeks, life has given me an address change, a change in relationship status, and next week, adds another number to my age. That’s a lot for anyone.

But surprisingly, it’s all been given to me in stride. And all has gone well with each situation so far, too. Why, you ask? Two reasons actually.

One, I decided I wasn’t going to be negative. 9 times out of 10, I just usually go the dark route, end up all Negative Nancy about shit, and end up making the wrong decisions. Yet I’ve stayed positive here, and the situation isn’t the worst.

And two, Wendy. She has been a godsend during this process. I was wigging out hardcore when it initially all went down, and she calmed me down. Helped me figure everything out. Still is, actually.

Everyone knows how I get. I flip out, jump to conclusions, and just spazz out. But she has kept me cool, calm, and collected. Somehow. Some way. And it’s been nothing but laughter and smiles. On my part anyways, I can’t speak for her. It seems mutual.

And I genuinely hope so. I hope I bring her even a quarter of the happiness she brings me, because she brings me so much. And I can only hope to bring her a fraction of that.

All this, because of a choice to choose one path instead of the other. And it feels great. Hopefully, this keeps up. And I can continue to make her smile. And vice versa. All because I made a choice. A choice… flip a switch.

The 9 Unmistakeable Symptoms of Man-flu

This season is man-flu season, and many around us are suffering.

To help you to identify those in need – and separate true man-flu victims from impostors – we have compiled this list of the condition’s unmistakeable symptoms.

Feel free to print out and keep as a bedside reference.

1. Sullen, reserved demeanor

This is the first sign that the plague may be upon the victim.

The sufferer will become withdrawn and uncommunicative. He will most likely respond to inquiries with a brusque declaration that he is “not feeling well” and will be “going to bed early”.

There may also be sniffles at this point, or upon waking up the next morning.

2. Swollen sensitivity to sarcasm

Early stages of the disease are also marked by an almost paranoia-like fear of mockery.

Sensing the slightest edge of irony in an inquiry about their condition can send the patient into a downward spiral of victimhood. This is a serious risk and should not be laughed at. WHY ARE YOU SMILING IT’S NOT FUNNY?!?

3. Inflamed sense of victimhood in general

The patient will likely become convinced that nobody has suffered like this, ever. This will not be communicated in words, but in their attitude and behavior more generally.

4. Craving for affection

Men who previously were surly, physical types with three-day stubble and an attitude problem will be reduce to strange kitten-like creatures who merely want to lay their head in your lap and have it stroked.

5. Selflessly allowing other people to do chores

Cooking dinner, doing the vacuuming, bringing fresh plates of soft-boiled egg to the bedside: the truly suffering victim will cast his ego aside and allow others to step in to these tasks.

6. Increased appetite

But only for foods mommy made when the patient was a poorly young ‘un. Chicken pot pie, toast, even spaghetti are all acceptable medicines. No, it’s never going to be quite like mother made, but it will DO.

7. Need to wear outdoor garments around the house

And/or other warm, comforting garments.

Yes, even though the heating is on. Yes, even though the patient sometimes declines to wear that lovely cashmere scarf you got them last Christmas because it’s not really their style.

8. Constant checking of ‘glands

With the very gentlest of touches. Often accompanied by requests for partners, housemates and occasionally strangers to lay hands on and “see if they feel swollen to you”.

In this condition, glands are an essential barometer of health and require constant close monitoring.

9. And finally, willingness to describe symptoms at great length

Despite their undoubted suffering, the man-flu victim will often summon the energy to explain the exact progress of their disease and its latest manifestations.

Detailed explanation of ‘throaty’ and ‘chesty’ coughs should be expected, as well as graphic descriptions of mucus. Especially over dinner.

***It should also be noted, so you know we men aren’t faking it…

Man Flu

1. Man-Flu is more painful than childbirth. This is an irrefutable scientific fact*. *(Based on a survey of over 100,000 men.)

2. Man-Flu is not ‘just a cold’. It is a condition so severe that the germs from a single Man-Flu sneeze could wipe out entire tribes of people living in the rainforest. And probably loads of monkeys too.

3. Women do not contract Man-Flu. At worst they suffer from what is medically recognised as a ‘Mild Girly Sniffle’ – which, if a man caught, he would still be able to run, throw a ball, tear the phone book in half and compete in all other kinds of manly activities.

4. Men do not ‘moan’ when they have Man-Flu. They emit involuntary groans of agony that are entirely in proportion to the unbearable pain they are in…

5. Full recovery from Man-Flu will take place much quicker if their simple requests for care, sympathy and regular cups of tea or coffee are met. Is that really so much to ask? Florence Nightingale would have done it.

6. More men die each year from MFN (Man-Flu Neglect) than lots and lots of other things. (Like rabbit attacks or choking on toast).

7. Men suffering from Man-Flu want nothing more than to get out of bed and come to work, but they are too selfless to risk spreading this awful condition amongst their friends and colleagues. In this sense, they are the greatest heroes this country has ever known.

8. In 1982 scientists managed to simulate the agonising symptoms of full blown Man-Flu in a female chimp. She became so ill that her head literally fell off.

9. Man-Flu germs are more powerful than Rambo, Batman and The A-Team combined. They are too strong for weak, nasty tasting ‘lady medicines’ like Lemsip, so don’t bother trying to force them on a victim of Man-Flu.

10. While it may seem like a Man-Flu sufferer is just lying around enjoying ‘Diagnosis Murder’ it is a commonly recognised medical fact that the exact pitch and frequency of Dick Van Dyke’s voice has remarkable soothing powers.

‘09 Heartbreak Re-Post

This little doodad from ’09. Wow, some things never change.

“You know something? If you took a cute baby seal and only half hammered its little face in, that baby seal might well survive – just not so cutely and possibly a bit knackered and sociopathically jaded. This is analogous to your heart. When I say heart of course, I don’t mean your fucking ventricles – I mean that random bit of your brain that releases the chemical “you’refuckednowxytonin” into your blood supply when you fall in love. The important thing to note here is that the baby seal cannot get its cuteness back unless there exists some sort of baby seal doctor that wouldn’t rather sell its skin. And though you might think the world is a happy place with baby seal doctors restoring the half-broken faces of little seals, the fact is these people do not exist because baby seal corpse is worth a lot of fucking money and that’s tangible while cutesy bollocks is not.

So fuck the seals. And fuck your heart, to be honest. If it got broken once, hard enough, it’s never going to be restored. Don’t cry. It was just a form of innocence lost and thus not a bad thing; esp. in a world full of cunts that will play you like a cacophonically broken violin if you weren’t walled in a fortress that only gives way when they say the passwords to your soul. You don’t know what those are, of course. That’s the point.

Now it might look like I’m rambling or losing my train of thought, but I’m not because I’m clever. This post will close on the idea that your number of soul-passwords undergoes a huge reduction only once, ever. You only get heartbroken once. It won’t happen again. I know – you think you’ve been heartbroken a few times or whatever. I don’t buy it. I’ve been fucked with by every permutation of demonic neuroses that’s ever been implanted into female format and unleashed on earth. Don’t ask me how it happens, it just fucking does. The one thing I’ve learned is that it’s hard to tell when you’ve been really heartbroken.

Telling when you’re in love is easy. It’s that clichéd “you just know” feeling. It exists. Not had it yet? Boo the fuck hoo, but it’s out there. Telling when you’re heartbroken can seem like a “you just know” feeling, on account of the fact you’re sitting in a dark room in a pile of broken vodka bottles and you don’t want to turn on the light in case you really did carve her name thirty-six times into your forearms. But that’s just pain, loneliness, anger, being messed with, blah – any number of negative emotions all rolled into one and making you experience them at the same time. It does pass. Real heartbreak doesn’t pass.

Oh, you’ll always get over them. Reiterated: If you’re not a dependent, desperate fucknut you’re going to get over the person that really broke your heart. But you won’t be able to tell it broke until years later. Not because you still pine for them, but because your heart is actually fucking broken. You suddenly realize you’re a bit fucked and it’s not going away even though you’ve received enough blow jobs in the meantime to presumably cure any ailment the world could inflict. It will have caned you just like the baby seal’s face. It’s an actual breakage, no shit.

And once something is broken you can’t break it again. Not really. Not to the point where it makes much difference.

The good news is that it can only happen the once and it’s a good thing to have happened before you venture into the big badass world where people will call you a cunt, y’cunt. You can be more straight with people, take damage on the nose, be more confident, whatever. You’re safe: Play with fire. You won’t get truly hurt even if you try.

The bad news is that you’re broken and nobody will ever be able to get close to you again.

And when I say “nobody will ever”, I mean that. Nobody, no matter how brilliant or different or “soul mate” they are, will get the to the same places the first person did. You are built against that now and there’s no treatment to reverse it.

Man, and it’s raining.”

Two Thousand Nawteen

This year can officially eat a dick. Wasn’t a fan. But, not gonna forsake it totally either. Lessons were learned. Some lessons were new, some were just reminders, but all were lessons nonetheless.

So, I got reminded that I’m unlovable. And that’s not a bad thing. Just a reminder well needed to put my wall back up. Can’t get hurt if no one gets in. Tried letting people in, and they didn’t wanna be here. Can’t blame them. Hell, I’d get out if I could too. But for me, there is no getting away from the person I hate the most. Me.

2019 was a reminder that no matter how hard I change things up, no matter how many new people I add to my friend roster, not everyone is going to want to be around. I used to be proud of me. My strongest feature was lack of giving a fuck. In my older age, I at some point starting caring what people think. And Jesus, do I hate that. It’s the thing I loathe the most about me now.

They say the more things change, the more the stay the same. Truer words have never been spoken. I lost a friend of 20 years. He didn’t die, he just decided he didn’t wanna be friends with me anymore. And I had a female friend who I trusted more than anything break that trust. And now we’ll never be the same again.

It was something small and stupid, that would not be an issue with anyone else, but I have more issues than Vibe & Source, most of them being trust related. And when you have that many issues, they become all you have. It becomes the foundation upon which you base everything you do on.

So I lost probably my oldest female friend and probably my longest standing male friendship. Remember all them lessons we were talking about? I guess the one here is no matter how much you care about them, doesn’t mean they feel that way about you. And as much as you trust someone, doesn’t automatically make you their number one confidant. And that’s ok. People change. All we can do is wish them well, and not be hateful in the handling of the situation.

So I guess in 2020, I’m gonna tread lightly. I’m still gonna be open to new experiences and meeting new people. Only this time, I’m gonna have preset boundaries and rules in place. Said boundaries and rules will protect all newcomers, as well as myself.

That’s the thing about hope. Even when you go in the situations knowing the result is still going to go foul, hope rears it’s ugly head. Hope is a killer, when it’s all that you have.

I’m gonna to go into 2020 wishing the very best for everyone. For those that broke my heart, I hope they find the love of their lives if they already haven’t. For those that broke my trust, I hope the find the very best of confidant’s. To those who have severed ties with friendships between themselves & I, I hope they find better friends with whom they have forever friendships with.

2020 is the year we just need to hope & want the best for everyone. Regardless of the hurt, the lies, the mistrust, wish the best for everyone. Holding onto that hate will slowly poison you from the inside out. Hate is a toxin, and letting go is the only serum for it. So 2020 will only be different from 2019 if you make it. I know I plan on it. I hope all of you do too.

So Happy 2020 everyone. I hope it brings you everything you hope for and desire. And I hope I see more of a lot of you in the upcoming year. And even if I don’t, I love you all. Be safe. Be well. Be better.

Tears of a Clown

From first glance, I’m just an angry, hateful, unattractive man. And once you get to know me, that assessment’s not wrong. My hatefulness, my anger, are my defenses. They protect me. From being hurt, from being too happy. “Fonty, why wouldn’t you want to be happy.” Because everything goes to shit once I do. So me not being happy, that means y’all get to be happy, and honestly, I’d rather have that.

I’ve often heard me described as “a funny guy, who you’ll genuinely love.” Which brings a smile to face, even though it’s a downright lie. Funny, meh. I’ve heard way funnier. I usually just spew out something I’ve heard somewhere else before or post a hilarious meme at the right times. And as far as genuinely loving me, nah. I don’t think people do. The only person that truly has, no strings attached, no bullshit, no romantics, just genuinely loved me, lives in the dirty south. But I get it. Nobody wants to play with broken toys.

But I digress. I know Halloween is over, but the smile I put on some days, that’s just the mask I wear. I get mad sometimes and say, “I hate y’all” blah blah blah, but I really do love all of y’all. And I hate that. Lol Hear me out. I am an empath of sorts, as I feel everything. And I hate that. All the goodness. All the sadness. But the worst part is the remnants of what remains when those feelings leave. The little bit of sadness, the little bits of anger, the pieces of hurt. All the ingredients for a giant, angry asshole.

Know that these feelings I hate, I would feel over and over again, every day, just so that no else has to feel that shit. I hate feeling this way most of the time, and wish that shit on no one. Not even my worst enemy. I truly mean that.

But don’t think, “Awwww Fonty, that’s so sweet.” No, no it’s not. All this newfound love for everyone and everything has come at a price. It came to me only after I left some much damage in my wake. Clarity is not always a forethought. Sometimes clarity is given to someone to see all the awful shit they’ve done.

And I have done some awful shit. I’m not the man I was 2 years ago. A lot of loss and hurt caused up till that point finally flipped the asshole switch back off. It had been turned on for long, with minimal fucks given, that a lot of damage was done. Made lifelong friends hate me, made people who loved me hate me, and lost tons of respect from the ones still around.

This is not a tale of woe. Just an explanation of sorts. Sure, I’m sad, but I choose to be sad. For you all. I probably don’t have much time left on this rock. Depending on one’s definition of much. But what little I’ve got left, I just wanna see everyone happy.

So when I’m sad, when I cry, I cry for you. Not Jodeci-style, either. Again, this is not a blog with a purpose. My writing just gets the stuff out, so that it doesn’t eat me alive from the inside out. So I end this with a simple quote:

Keep love in your heart. A life without it is like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead. The consciousness of loving and being loved brings a warmth and a richness to life that nothing else can bring. ~ Oscar Wilde