Tears(My first song I wrote) Rough Draft


Am I getting into a mess, or is this my true happiness

When I think of you, I shed tears of blood

I feel like I am being dragged through the mud

They trickle down my cheek, and pool at my feet

But it’s not my blood that I shed

It’s your blood that I shed

It’s an opening to my soul

It’s a dark pit I can’t hide from

The pool of blood at my feet

Is like a treat

I will drink your life force

nice and sweet.

Then I’ll be ready for the second course.

Tears of blood

Tears of soul

Tears I cannot control

Tears of blood

Tears of soul

Tears that left a hole.. Written by Lou Reznor Longoria 6-16-11


Electro Convulsive Therapy (Shock Treatment)

I don’t know why I decided to write about this today. It is a part of my story, so I thought I would share about it.

I first started Electro Convulsive Therapy(ECT)  in 1994. I was 20 years old at the time. Up until this time I had been on numerous medications, but the meds were not helping. So the Doctor at the time thought ECT would be am alternative treatment. I was given information on ECT, and they had me watch a video of someone going through the procedure. I was really freaked out! I did not know what to think. I mean here was someone going through this terrible ordeal, hoping to feel better. I could not fathom this. After the video the doctor sat me down and explained everything to me. I did not want to do this. I was terrified. But the doctor kept pushing and pushing, trying to convince me to go with it. Finally I gave in and said I would try it. A choice I would regret.

Here is how the procedure works. I was rolled into a waiting area, on a gurney. In this area there were others waiting for the same fate as I. It had to be one of the most depressing rooms I have ever been in. I would look around and see all these people. There were a lot of elderly folks here. I guess ECT is suppose to help with Dementia and other sicknesses. I would watch as these elderly people were wheeled by me and led into the “treatment” room, feeling sad for them, because this seemed like there last hope or something. That ECT was going to cure them or something, but it didn’t cure them, they would keep coming back. They probably didn’t even know what was going on.  Anyway, while in this room the nurse “Nancy”, would take my vitals, then start a IV for the anesthesia. They use anesthesia to knock me out during the procedure. When my turn came I was wheeled into the “treatment” room. In here there were three people, the psychiatrist, the anesthesiologist, and the nurse. The machine they used to shock me  was this little box with wires coming out of it.  The nurse would put a blood pressure cuff on me, and put something on my finger to take my pulse. My vitals were done throughout the procedure. While the nurse was doing this, the anesthesiologist was preparing the medicine that would put me to sleep. The psychiatrist would put some kind of gel on my forehead. This was suppose to help with the shock. Then he would put this band around my head, and the wires coming from the little box were snapped onto this band around my head.Every time  I went through this procedure, I was always terrified in the inside. I kept asking myself why am I putting myself through this? The doctor and his staff had me convinced that it was working, but in reality it wasn’t. As I look back now, I am certain that the doctor had his own agenda. I was keeping him in business in a sense, but this is another topic for another day. After the wires were strapped onto this band around my head, the nurse would uncover my feet, so that when I go into convulsions, I don’t get wrapped up in the sheet. The anesthesiologist had a syringe in his hand, and would tell me to take three deep breaths. Then he would administer the medication into my IV, and a few seconds later I was asleep, and that’s all she wrote. I would wake up in the recovery room feeling lightheaded, dizzy, and extremely exhausted. I also did not remember a thing that went on. I would go home and sleep the rest of the day, trying to forget what I had just put myself through. I remember one time that I woke up in the recovery room, I started crying because I was so overwhelmed with what I was doing to myself. I said that I would never come back, but the doctor was always there to talk me into coming back again.

This went on from 1994-2011. I am not to sure how many procedures I went through, but I know there were a lot. It is probably a good thing that I do not know. My last procedure was in February of 2011. It is June now. I haven’t been back, and I refuse to go back.

I suffer from memory loss because of the ECT’s. Short-term memory that is. I cannot remember things that happened a year, or a few years back. I lost what good memories I had during this time.

If you are thinking about ECT, I would think again. It is not what it is cracked up to be. Don’t let the doctor, or anybody else influence you. Think for yourself. Thanks again for reading….Stay strong!!!

Dealing with the shame

To this day I still feel shameful for what happened to me as a child. The sexual abuse that is. I feel like I should of done something. Yelled, screamed, anything besides being silent. I let that man put his hands on me, and did not do a damn thing.  I let him use me as his own personal sex toy. That’s what I was…a sex toy. Perhaps to this day I am still his sex toy, in a mental sense. When that bastard jerks off, he probably conjures up images of me when I was a child. Sex toy. For a very long time in my life I was a sex toy. To my abuser, and to anybody that would sleep with me. But I didn’t care at the time, it was sex. I would go from one partner to another, trying to find myself. I thought that all of these people I was sleeping with, actually cared about me, but the only thing they cared about was what was between my legs. When I tried to get close to these sex partners, they would leave me. All they wanted was sex,not any strings attached. But I wanted to be loved. I wanted to be held and be told I am special. All they wanted was a few orgasms, and that was that.


I feel shameful for these things. I was a male slut. I was degrading myself by sleeping with people that didn’t give a shit about me. My self-esteem was so low. I actually felt this was my destiny, to be a sex toy. That that was all I was good for…nothing else. Let’s get something straight though. I don’t blame my sex partners for their needs, I had a choice too, you know?  I had a choice to sleep with these people, or not sleep with  people. Life is about choices. And the choices we make, determines how our lives will shape up. And the choices I have made, really fucked me up. I can sit here and write that I blame these choices on my abuse, but that’s just escaping responsibility. I blame myself. I have a choice to heal or stay in this hell I have built for myself. Sometimes I like this hell though. I am allowed to hate(which I still do) and not be judged for it. I hate love, I love hate, this is my motto. It feels safe for me. Can I still hate, and heal from the abuse? I don’t know. But I just want to have a “normal” relationship with a woman. To make love to a woman, and it actually means something. Who knows? Perhaps I am just blabbering.

The shame and guilt that consumes me at times, gets to a point of panic and anxiety. I have done so many terrible things. I cannot forgive myself for this. I beat myself up day after worthless day. Why have I done so many terrible things I ask myself? Why have I hurt so many people? I don’t have an answer to this.


Well thank you again for reading my blog. It means a lot to me that you take the time to read and think about what was written. Take care and stay strong.




Death and Me

Death, Death, Death, it is always on my mind. During the day, during the night, it is haunting me. I have been afraid of death since I was a kid. I would constantly think about it. Ever since I attended church, and started learning about heaven and hell, I started thinking about death, and what will happen to me when I die. Is there really a heaven and hell? Or is this it, this life. I guess not knowing what is going to happen when I die, has kept me from committing suicide. Not that this is the ONLY reason from committing suicide. I have my family and friends to think about too. But if I did know what was going to happen to me when I die, it would probably make the decision much simpler. Good thing I don’t know eh?


I recall one time I was at youth group, I had to be about 9 or so, the youth pastor was talking to me about sin and hell. I started to cry because all I could think about was my mom. Was she going to hell? Being a kid this was a scary thought for me. I did not want my mom going to hell. With fire and brimstone,burning for eternity. This was a huge turning point in my life. The “pastor” calmed me down, but the seed had been planted. I started thinking of my own life, and what I could do to avoid burning in hell for eternity. Fear kept me in church. I would read and study my bible, repent my sins, anything I could do to avoid hell. Ask god constantly to forgive me. I was scared shitless. I believed every single word in the bible, and took it literally. But the older I got, and the more I started experimenting with other religions, I stopped believing in god. I thought god was suppose to be a god of love, and compassion. But why would god instill fear into his followers? Does this make any sense? I thought that when somebody loves someone, it means that there should be no fear. Am I right? Or am I just talking nonsense? Also, why would a god of love allow sexual abuse in my life, Oh there is free will, that’s what christians say, but I don’t understand this. So I no longer want to be a part of a god like this.


I still think about death on a regularly basis. Still afraid what is going to happen to me. In a way I feel like I have died in the inside already, just waiting for the physical body to die. Then I shall find out what will truly happen.


Thanks for reading….. stay strong!!


I have been so confused lately. With the way I am feeling, and the way I am expressing these emotions and feelings. One minute I am happy, one minute I am sad, and one minute I am angry. It keeps bouncing back and forth. I don’t know if this is bi-polar, or if this is just life? It is taking its toll on me though. I feel so  exhausted all the time. I have no energy to do anything. I lie in bed trying to figure out what’s causing so much turmoil in my life. I’m not sulking, at least I do not think I am. Just confused.  I ask myself what can I do to better myself? What can I do to pull myself out of this funk? Needless to say I am clueless. A friend of mine said do not be a slave to your emotions. He hit the nail right on the head with this observation. I have been a slave to my emotions. It’ like my emotions are in control of me, and I am just a spectator. Watching as my life passes by me, and suffering from being a slave.  But I am the one who has control over this, at least I think I do. But I do not obviously if I’m writing this blog. If any of my readers have a suggestion, I am open to it. I have been this way my whole life . And let me tell you, It has gotten me into trouble numerous times. It has made me impulsive. I react before I think about the consequences. SO much to work on. I can only handle so much. My friend “Bob” told me that he admires me, because of all the shit I have been through, and I still am here. I haven’t given up, even if it feels like I have given up. I am to chicken to commit suicide, so I guess I have to survive. I have to press on, even if it hurts, or is to difficult to do.

Well once again I thank you for reading. I hope it helps in some way. Please leave a comment if you feel the urge to share your opinion. Thanks again for all your support. Stay strong!!!

Loss of A friend

Today I lost one of the best friends I ever had. I am very saddened by this. We just grew apart, we see things differently. We have been friends for 15 years. Now it’s gone.

During our friendship I learned a lot from him. I hope he feels the same way. But sometimes people come into our lives, stay for a little bit, and move on. It’s what you do while their here with you that matters. We had some really great times, and my arm is covered with a tattoo he did for me. This will be my reminder of him. I’m not angry at him. We are just in different places right now. I wish him the very best. Always have. I hope he finds what he is searching for. I will miss him dearly. Thanks for all the great memories Bro.

Everyone I know goes away in the end- Nine Inch Nails “Hurt”


I had  a revelation while reading today.  It just popped in my head. I asked myself why I was shutting myself off to the world. Just because a few people did not like who I am? How lame is this? There are millions of people who will accept me just the way I am, and I am letting a few people destroy me? Stop sulking I tell myself. I mean yeah there are things I need to change about myself, but people will still except for who I am. Plus, I am being a hypocrite in a way. I preach just be yourself and fuck everybody else, but here I am worrying over what a few people think of me. This totally goes against what I believe in. So I decided not to shut myself off to the world. There are others like me who need me. Others I can relate too. I just need to find them, and hopefully I will find them through my writing.  But why do this to myself? I have survived so much in my life, I have come so far to let a few people destroy me. I mean I still want to be a Dark Angel, or something to that degree. I want to learn more about Satanism, and what it portrays. I feel this is one of my callings.

Even though I am not shutting myself off to the world, I will be on guard for now on. I will be careful who I let in my heart, if I let anyone there at all. I have learned a lesson, and I have the few people to thank, even though they judge me.  I will continue to write, and hopefully find myself through it. I always wanted to write, but I was to lazy, to afraid what I may find. But not anymore. I will write when I feel I have something to write about. Whether it scares me or not. I will immerse myself into my writing. Why not right? I’m not hurting anyone by writing, or maybe I will hurt someone by writing, I cannot see that far into the future. But I will continue to be myself, and if you or anybody else doesn’t like it, well to bad. If you are reading my blogs you obviously like what I have to say. And I thank you for reading. It means a lot to me. I hope I may say something that will challenge you sometimes, or something that you  can relate too, to know that you are not alone.

I cannot say that I feel better, but I do feel like I took a big step in my life. I won’t let others tear me down with their ideals about me. Sure I can always use advice, I am at least open to that. I need advice sometimes. But if it cuts me down, or judges me anyway, I won’t listen.  I want to surround myself with people that can relate to what I have been through, and what I am going through.   Whether it be young, old, black, white, it doesn’t matter.

Well thanks again for reading, your comments are always welcomed, even if I disagree with it. Take care and stay strong!!!!