No words.

I am so incredibly furious right now.  I'm still shaking, in fact. I happen to be right here at my machine, so I write.

Alden just lied to me, right to my face.  He had a lousy day at school, where he got picked on, and bullied.  We talked for two hours, about it, I gave up most of my afternoon to sit here and counsel him through more of the school bullshit.  He cried, I got misty.

The tears are flowing right now, in fact, but different ones. Angry, hurt ones.  The ones earlier were empathy.

I hate being linked to people, I hate caring about people so much that I literally feel their pain and cry when they hurt.  I hurt when he's hurt, so profoundly, it's like living through it all over again.

So, back to now.

We talked.  He cheered up, a little, he went outside to play.  He came in from outside in high spirits, and wanting to go play with his friend Matt.  I was about to set him free, when I realized he had chores to do, and he still hadn't journaled.  Journaling is something we agreed upon, to help him get his mind together, and maybe sort out his personal issues, feelings, and just overall improve upon his writing skills.  He agreed to do it voluntarily, and I agreed to not -actually- reading it, just checking it briefly for length-neatness.

He's been screwing off, about it for the past month.  His writing skills, and somehow his communication skills have been dropping off, as a result.  I see real improvements when he sticks to journaling, and the opposite, when he doesn't.

I reminded him that he's not going out till he gives me a few pages.  A few, not the usual one, but a few to catch it up, since he's been neglecting it. I figured, no better time than now to sort out his school issues.

We were sitting here, I was going through my iTunes making a bluesy relaxing mix, chatting with him idly about songs, as he (I thought) was writing.  After about a half hour, he declared that he was done.

He showed me 3 pages, with the date 6-11 on them, ending with a half-page titled "Bernard" which seemed to be about today, but the pages before that, he sort of flipped past real fast, shielding the book with his body.  I grabbed the book out of his hand, and said, "what are you showing me? Let me look closer, I promise I won't read it."

He'd erased the dates on the past two pages, from a few days ago, and put today's date on them, in order to pass them off.  He only wrote one poorly slapped together half page.

Yeah, I fucking slapped him.  I went into a blind fucking rage.  Not because of the writing, never that.  The lie.  The easiness, and pettiness of the lie.  After all we talked about today. After all the lying he's done in the past, just when I've begun to let my guard down, and start trusting him again, now this, this shit again.  He gets away with a lot of shit, around me. He knows I'm easy going. Hell, I even defend him against Irv much of the time.  I never get angry.

I never hit him, not even when he was a baby. Nothing makes me lose my shit faster than being lied to.  He stole my laptop and hid it, running, under his blankets recently.  It was scorching hot when he retrieved it for me...but he was honest, and I addressed it, and let it go.  This?  For this, I suppose we're both lucky I got a hold of myself, because sitting here right now, I can still envision myself kicking his ass all over the room, swinging, hitting, shoving, whatever.  Doing damage.  A real honest-to-god blind demonic rage, where all I want to do is hurt, hurt this...thing that lies to my face.  I want to send him away, I want to get rid of this thing that hurts me, that can lie so easily, this...person that does the one thing that I abhor, and so easily.

This is my boy, my child, my only blood relative.  My essence, a small part of me. He is my heart.  The absolute light of my life, the person's company that I long for when I wish most people would leave me alone. This boy that I love so much, that when he gets picked on in school, I shed real tears for, that I give the most of myself to....I have never had such love and hate for one person in my whole life. Never as much love, and at times like this, never as much hate.

I'm sitting her crying my eyes out.  I am so incredibly angry, and hurt. It's almost too big for me to address, too big for me.  Writing isn't even helping me, at this juncture.  My hands are cold, my face and chest are hot.  I can't stop these tears from spilling down my face, and soaking the neck of my shirt. My guts, my insides, maybe my fucking womb...hurts. My insides are churning and twisting, like a fist is grabbing and pulling me apart inside.  I want to go lay down and put my face in a pillow, like a child, and just sob.