Sesmu is the ancient Egyptian demonic god of execution, slaughter, blood, oil, wine and perfume. Like many of the gods of Ancient Egypt, Sesmu was of a complex nature. He had qualities of both light and darkness, but this was not the reason that he was known as a 'demon'. To the Egyptians, demons were not necessarily evil in nature. Often they were quite helpful. Instead, the term 'demon' was given to Sesmu because he was one of the lesser deities, and due to his relation to the underworld. Sesmu followed the commands of The God of The Dead, and therefore was sometimes given the title ‘Slaughterer of Souls’. He initially seems to be a fierce underworld deity, but Sesmu was quite helpful to the dead.
I’m a shit head. That seems to be my new favorite fucking word, but dear lord, I’ll wear it into the ground, that I am an absolutely shit head. I find someone I actually love in this world, and I’m too much of shit to just accept them, and how they change me for good and bad.
My childhood left me a giant pile of shit where my persona should be, but then some asshole had do come along and inject it with a triple dose of soul. So in the end it left me a shitty human being who didn’t know how to treat themselves, anyone around them, or even the people they love in a good way. Because the first man who ever told me he loved me seemed to have it right, get the fuck away, and stay the fuck away. And from what I know his whole world isn’t completely destroyed by me. My mother has the chance to live this amazing life, and be a musician and just follow everything she ever wanted to be, but then I had to come along and fuck it up, because that’s how I started out in this world, one giant inconvenience that no one really knew how to deal with, so they just kind of cast it aside. And because of that, I had to figure out how to be a normal human without any real example of how to act like one, nor with any help on how to guide myself through my emotions. So I wear the heartbreak and confusion of the last 17 years of my life like a bad car wreck, that I just can’t wipe away. I hate all the plastic fucking people in this town because they all just sit there being miserable and cover it up with their plastic faces, and their plastic husbands, and wives a children, and car and lives, and none of it’s real to them. Because in the end all of these people on this planet are fucking miserable. So when I say “Next planet please.” It means take me away from all these shit heads I’m surrounded by, because I’m terrified I’m turning into one of them. And then I’m going to put on my plastic face when I get home and find a wonderful man to fall in love with my plastic face, and then we will get married, and I will wreck his life, but he’ll replace his misery with plastic cars, and plastic houses, and plastic children, and his own plastic life. There’s those few people out there that are too good to really be destroyed by me, so I have to get away from them before I make them a part of my plastic cycle, or how ever I try to stop it. Because in the end it’s all a fucking wreck, and I’ll always be back to square one. Why the fuck didn’t my Mommy and Daddy love me? Why the fuck didn’t my Grandma love me? How come I have to watch all these people have parents that at least live in the same fucking town, who actually raised them, and taught them how to grow as people so they could be functional human beings in society. But I got lost in that equation and I seem to have to find someone who can survive my bullshit as a person, and won’t have it destroy them, instead of someone I love to my very core and being. I have to push away that person I love because, in the end, why am I going to do this to them? Why am I going to be the one who starts the shit head cycle of their lives. I’ve already began the cycle in a sense, and I have to stop it before it happens. Before I destroy them, and destroy the beautiful wonderful person that they are. I need to find someone who doesn’t feel. I need to find another shit head. Because even if I’m absolute shit, I can’t be ok with making the first person I really love, and gave myself to, a shit head. I want to see them grow old, and do well, and have a family, and be happy. And they’ll get almost all of what they wanted if they were to be with me. A steady career, a loyal wife behind it, and them, a family, a home, but they wouldn’t be happy. Because they’d be living the life their living.
I got so close to bringing the wrecking ball to you, one more swing and you’d topple down. I couldn’t bear to watch it take down such a beautiful creation so I just swung it away from you still. I’m driving around with a wrecking ball, breaking down walls, and breaking everything inside of them. But as long as you stay beautiful, and it doesn’t touch your soul like it did everything else, then I can be ok.
It sounds real fucked up to say the best way I could show you I love you was to leave you, but it’s the truth of it. I love you so much, that I can’t be with you at this time in my life. I can’t handle going back and forth half way across the country for 4 more years, just for a maybe, because I can barely handle myself. Maybe if our past and history was semi clear I would be able to do it, but even if you won’t be the man I marry you’ll be the only one who’s got a tribute literally inked into my skin, right next to my heart. And nothing gets more real than that. I’ll have that on my body forever, and I want it there, because I don’t want that love I felt for you fade at all. Ever. I want how I feel for you to burn me for the rest of my fucking life, and be a lesson that people can save your life, and you can still just fuck theirs up, no matter how much you love them, and no matter how good of a person you want to be you might just not be that person for them, and you know it. You’re the first one to love them, and they’re the first to love you, but that love isn’t enough to keep you together, because sometimes we’re just shit people. But I want it in my skin to say just keep fucking trying it, and and not to destroy anyone in your own destination to finding yourself, and no matter, I’ll always have that love. It won’t disappear. Nothing can make it disappear. Because it’s almost everything that consumes us now. I want angel in my skin as a reminder to be the person I became at the beginning. I need to be reminded how to not be a shit head, like how he reminded me. But I need to do it for myself.
I’ll always love him, and it hurts to think about him thinking I won’t love him.