Things I Wish I Had Heard

Dear Thatch,

Our greatest fears can be turned into our greatest strengths as long as we are willing to plunge head-first into the darkness. This is not easy by any means and it is not meant to be. We cannot become complacent in regards to the things that frighten us; unnervingly we must stare them down. Of course we will falter, fall, break, and crumble, but we must never give up. You may hate different events in your life, but you cannot allow those things to define who you are. You must continue with your struggles, despite them making you want to scream, and learn. Always learn.

Hearing the news that you had been molested as a child into your early teens really has altered my understanding of you. I think of you now and I realize that this series of events combined with the death of your best friend/ cousin must have rocked and shattered your very core, foundation… being. I know it is not possible for me to really ever understand how it has made you feel, but I am willing to learn. I admire the inner strength you must have to endure so much and yet have such a wonderful, wise head on your shoulders. I cannot imagine I would be very sane if I experienced any of what you have.

I understand you have many things you are working through and toward, however, I do not think of you as broken. To me you are a beautiful person striving toward truth, toward your inner peace and happiness, and searching for what is real. When I imagine you, you are standing triumphantly arms out-stretched on a cliff surrounded by lush vegetation and overlooking soul-piercingly blue water. As you stand, you allow yourself to become one with the intense, yet gentle winds. They swirl, kiss, push, and roll on your body as if you were Lord of the Winds. You smile, nay beam brighter and bigger and reach your fingers into the breeze, guiding it as it cleanses your soul and cools the pain. In this image, you are flooded with a golden light all about you, shining brilliantly, mimicking the joy and contentedness that you are radiating. This picture of you may not be where you are at right now, but I feel it is an accurate portrait of your soul. I only hope that one day soon this image will come true for all parts of you.

In the meantime, things will not be so wonderful all of the time. You know you have much to do, therefore I will not waste your time telling you things you are more aware of than I, but I will tell you this: never compare yourself to anyone else and always strive toward truth, honesty, and self-awareness. Do not tackle many of the things you view as faults all at once, but carefully, kindly, and slowly seek self-betterment. Remember your wise soul, but do not neglect your inner child and do not forget he often moves at a slower pace than your soul. Recognize this, recognize the child is often frightened and do not brush this off. He has valid opinions you need to be aware of; if the child or the soul find something disagreeable, frightening, or to cause even the slightest hesitation, do not disregard it. This is not to say you never should be spontaneous, but rather so in tune with your body that you are capable of being spontaneous; you know your soul, body, and mind so well that your spontaneity will not toss you several thundering steps backward.

Thus, we come back to your past. I wish I could have been there to protect you from that monster. I wish I could have picked up on the signals you gave and instead of becoming wrapped up in dramatic possibilities I would have questioned the environment and people around you. I did a poor job protecting you, thus I understand your caution and feelings of lack of safety. I apologize for not recognizing you were calling out for help and from the bottom of my heart, I sincerely apologize for putting you into so many situations in which it was easier for him to make you his prey. He is a vile, disgusting man capable of twisting your thoughts, actions, and words to please his every whim; it was not your fault!

I apologize for never asking you how all of this has made you feel, but instead turning it all onto me. I deeply apologize for all of the cruel thoughts and words I have projected upon you; it was uncalled for and highly immature on my part. I apologize for not understanding or accepting your wishes nor embracing you on the journey you are embarking upon. I never should have been so ignorant and indignant toward the paths you are taking; I especially apologize for my attitude toward your name change. Now that I have had time to think about it, I really think Thatcher fits you best; it truly does embody your passion for the environment, the outdoors, and nature. Not everyone will not see it that way, but what matters most is that you are doing what is best for you; you are on a journey none may go on with you and that none may alter. I wish you the best and know that you will come out an even stronger, wiser, better man.

Forgive me for the void that I have created and allowed to unremittingly increase. I understand you have never felt safe nor at home and maybe that is why you continue to travel so much; searching for a place you might call home. I do not hold it against you that you cannot return feelings of love and trust to me and others because of all that has been done to you; I only hope for a day when you can trust and love without worry or reservation. I wish you could have had the childhood you deserved instead of the nightmare you do have; even the good fragments of your childhood you do remember are tainted and peppered with what has happened to you.

There are many things I could have done better, but most importantly, I wish this had never happened to you. I know it has caused you a lot of distress and I would give anything for it to have never occurred. Unfortunately, I cannot do that, but I can tell you I will patiently be here for you whenever you are ready to talk or need to be around someone.

It is also important for you to realize that you are not the events that happened to you, or in other words, do not allow them to define who you are. Rather, the way you have responded to the events is what has made you into the strong, wise man you are today. I know you have confusions, ponderings, and many other thoughts to work through, but do not get too imprisoned in that cycle; allow yourself to see the beauty around you and within you. Embrace the strength you have had in order to grow into the man you are today; you should be proud of who you are because if you were not as strong as you are, you would not have turned out to be as wonderful as you are. Learn to appreciate all of you; trust yourself, take care of yourself, and most importantly, love yourself.

It may seem absurdly difficult to see your self-value and permit yourself to begin loving yourself again, but you must try for there are many great things about you that you fail to perceive. In not loving yourself, you are limiting yourself and who you could become; do not constrain your possibilities and potential. Learn how to love yourself so that you are able to wholeheartedly love that which is around you, witness an increasing drive for life and an unwavering (but not boastful) confidence.

Start small; jot down the things that you like about yourself and little by little began to actually believe it. Do not do as Henry David Thoreau indicates in your favorite quote and become wrapped up in unimportant things in life. Leave the insignificant things behind and run toward the magnificent. Forget about those who only bring discomfort and poison into your life; regardless of prior connections to you. Do the things that make you happy and do what you need in order to find out more about who you are. As I mentioned, you are on a journey, but do not rush it. Be like that image of you I mentioned; allow yourself to stand on a hilltop and feel the breeze work its way around and in your body; telling it you are here, you have arrived. Be active; we both know that you find yourself falling into slumps and funks and if you traipse outside- swim, bike (when you can), hike, run, etc.- you will find you are able to process things, feel at home, and more at ease.

Climb a tree. Embrace your likeness toward the mighty bur oak; stand tall and firm enduring all storms and fires. The unobservant eye may see you, the bur oak, as scraggly and unattractive with branches twisting and curving with no rhyme or reason, but those eyes fail to view an elegant, stable and powerful tree. Do not let their false perceptions of you define who you are. Despite it all, you, the rugged oak, majestically and beautifully continue. Observe and be aware of these things. Watch as you blossom and grow and the trouble and agony fade away. Then dive into the water and peer into one of the only places you have ever found comfort and solace. Let the cool water envelope you and take you over. Remember how safe and at home you felt as a child leaving all of your cares and worries behind; escaping. Remember how much you felt a part of the water and never let that feeling slip away. Let the water purify and refresh your mind and soul. Let it become you.

You are all of this- Lord of the Winds, a mighty and majestic bur oak, and part of the water- and more. Do not lose sight of you; your potential and who you are striving to be. No matter what comes your way, continue on your journey and learn to love yourself, only then will you truly find the happiness you are searching for and ultimately deserve.

 

 

Lovingly,

Kevin

 

Most men, even in this comparatively free country, through mere ignorance and mistake, are so occupied with the factitious cares and superfluously coarse labors of life that its finer fruits cannot be plucked by them.  –Henry David Thoreau

How does it feel? Part II

Another way he forced his questioning upon me was by starting to call me a girl’s name. He called me “Monica,” a name I had liked due to liking one of the main characters on Touched by An Angel; needless to say I quickly began to hate the name. He became an expert at taking things I enjoyed and finding ways to weasel himself into them; I could no longer think about the show without being reminded of what he so graciously bestowed upon my mind and body. But it didn’t stop at Monica; there were many other renditions of my name that could be construed as the “feminine” version that he and others on my mother’s side of the family called me. The very same family that took it upon themselves to have family conversations about their children’s and my sexuality (and what other things they discussed, I prefer to stay ignorant) and still continue to do it toward the younger kids in the family to this day; it is a poisonous, bizarre, and revolting environment that I want no part of… ever.

Because of him I grew to hate myself; my body, my soul, my very being. I found myself distancing myself from my name, especially my middle name since I was named after him (and an uncle on my dad’s side). I know that for many years my first and middle names never seemed like they were my own; my middle I abandoned for obvious reasons and my first name… I never felt I could be that person. The person associated with my first name was wounded and enduring constant invasion. In my mind, that person was weak, guilty, abused, unlovable, and all the things I did not want to be. Naturally, I moved away from those names. I found myself thinking I did not look or seem like a person who would have my first name or middle name and started to think of new names.

Finally, in the summer of 2011, I began the process for legally changing my middle name after spending the whole year trying to select a new one that would suit me best. As of August 2011, my middle name was no longer a name I shared with my mother’s brother, but a name that I selected on my own with its own special meaning to me and for that I am very grateful.

2011 and 2012 have been tumultuous years. I have heard the opinions of many; some helpful, some telling me I should just move on and keep my mouth shut, and others unable to understand why it took so long to report him. To an outsider, I can see how they may wonder why or how it took me so long to report him to the police and to them I have one word: control. He had so much control over my mind and body that I still find it creeping back into my mind on occasion. Not only that, there were many situations and circumstances that eventually built up to the point of me reporting him, but I will save that for another time.

There are even some that believe what I am going through or what has happened to me is no big deal and that I should be fine; simply stop allowing it to affect my life. If it really were that easy I would have already done it. I do not blame people for being ignorant to it as they may have no experience with molestation, but one thing I do know is that it is difficult and that everyone reacts differently. However, that being said, I have no respect for those that have tried to force me to do what they want and not what is right. I will never understand how someone could ask that I change my story, pretend nothing happened, or even ask that I keep his personal wellbeing in mind. Excuse me, but he is not the victim. He was the one who inflicted this upon himself, me, and others. What would it show him if I were to crumble at their whim? Nothing, except that what he did was not wrong. Those people need to realize that what he did was wrong and stop hating me for something he did to us.

People, as I mentioned, told me, and the others involved, that we should just keep our mouths shut, to stop trying to rip apart the family, that they hate me, and showered me with many, “I hope you are happy” comments. I am not happy, if it were up to me I would never have needed to do this as I would never have been molested to begin with, but I was, and therefore I must do what is right. Those people are so filled with hatred toward me and so worried about me ruining his life (and theirs) that they seem to have forgotten that he was the destroyer of mine and others. Not only that, but they also seem to worry about destroying the family, but what they do not realize is that their actions are taking care of that; their actions do not illustrate how a true family acts nor did his. I have never felt safe with them, I have rarely felt that family bond toward them, and I will continue to distance myself from their toxicity because of their actions, comments, and responses. A true family is loving, safe, and always there for you; I am grateful I at least have that in my dad’s side of the family and in friends.

As a child I often thought that if I were only this or that he would leave me alone, thus a hatred for my body, my thoughts, and anything I deemed the “problem” causing the abuse I sought to change. I remember being obsessed with the way my body looked; deciding that if I were to eat more and gain more weight maybe that would discourage him. However, it and nothing else, would work. What I was left with was much inner conflict as to who I was, who I wanted to be, and no real idea of what I should do from there. His incessant invasion has led to much inner conflict, but perhaps most evident is the drastic decrease in my confidence in terms of my own thoughts, ideas, beliefs, my body, and my abilities. I find myself in this cyclical pattern of negative thoughts about myself, struggling to find some steady ground. I am unable to take genuine compliments, I question people’s motives often, and I am afraid of losing control; controlled begets controlling.

I find it difficult to form meaningful romantic and platonic relationships because it is far easier to keep people at arm’s length than to allow them inside and, simply put, I have very little trust for just about everyone. I physically and mentally am incapable of being close to someone because I still have a lot of mental anguish and anxiety I have not worked through. Basically, I have a lot to a lot to figure out and I know I am only just beginning. I will refrain from writing everything because it may be too much for you and too revealing for me.

He was and still is the most invasive, deceiving, and manipulative person I know. I look back now and am shocked at how much he was able to do and how “clever” he was. He constantly bombarded me with his own thoughts and actions that I never knew whether what I thought was mine or his. I still have a lot to figure out about myself, but it is a journey I must take in constant search of an inner peace, confidence, and calmness. I must allow my wise soul to proudly trek the Earth and eradicate the demons that have staked their claims and overshadow my thoughts. With great patience and care I will continue to strive forward, but I know and accept that I will have many weak moments along the way and that I may never complete my tasks by the time I die. I am not discouraged; I am empowered to always do better and be in a constant state of self-improvement. I must remain unconquerable.

As I said before, look up the different effects and sections on the RAINN website and watch Mysterious Skin.
I have also posted the poem “Invictus” by William Ernest Henley on my blog before, but I feel it is a very fitting way to end this post so here it is once more:

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

How does it feel? Part 1

I feel like I have beat around the bush enough with my posts, enough so that readers may get the picture that something was up, but not too much to give it all away. Perhaps not, maybe you are more of the Sherlock Holmes-type than I give you credit for being… Either way, today I am just going to write about how it feels. How it feels to have been violated, abused, and hurt for so many years. I feel it is time I tell whomever will listen what goes on in the dark recesses of my mind due to having been sexually molested by my mom’s brother for my entire childhood (from around the age of 5 until about 6th grade, with attempts after that point).

Many people tell fond stories about their childhood, about all the great things they remember doing and seeing, but I honestly remember very little about my childhood. I often have responded that I don’t remember something when asked a question about my childhood and people usually respond that it is not possible to simply not remember large parts of your youth. However, I know that in order for me to remain mostly sane and level-headed, my mind had to suppress the majority of what had happened to me. In doing that, large chunks of my childhood undoubtedly had to go with it because, unfortunately, we cannot pick and choose what ends up being suppressed from our memory. In fact there are numerous occasions where a family member will ask if I remember something and I will either admit I don’t remember it or pretend like I do remember (I learned early on that it is far easier to pretend you remember the stories people say than to say you don’t because people will not understand how you forgot… Unless I were to tell the story I am telling now, which I was not comfortable telling, especially to family). Those things which I do remember are mostly filled with flashbacks of what he did to me, the emotions I felt, and so much hurt and pain. I honestly wish I could remember more good childhood memories, but if it comes at the cost of overloading my mind with more fuel for nightmares, then I am willing to sacrifice whatever childhood memories I must to protect my sanity.

It is hard to begin to explain how being molested has made me feel as those emotions became the norm for me since I experienced them so frequently. A large part of my life has been filled with the feeling of hatred, disgust, loathing, depression, lack of confidence, guilt, and more. These thoughts led me to entertain suicide on a frequent basis; I don’t think I can even remember the number of times I thought about it, attempted it, or even remember my early life without thoughts about it. However, with therapy and the experience from my last suicide attempt, I was able to move forward, to realize that a greater power than I wanted me to be here and that I had much more to live for.

Granted, that sounds all fine and peachy, but it took a very long time for me to be able to grasp it, this is definitely not something I came to realize overnight. I finally began to realize that despite what had happened to me, I deserved every right to live my life. Before all of that, I struggled with self-blame; blaming myself for everything that happened and hating myself for somehow allowing him to invade me. How fucking sick is that? Not only was I experiencing the horror he forced upon me, but I then began to think it was my fault, that I somehow had asked for it, somehow deserved to be molested.

I tried to grapple with what to do in my head and so many times I wanted to say something, but he always threatened me with remarks that either dug into my psyche or stated that if he were ever reported he would commit suicide. As a child, already having everything you know turned upside down and having your mind being played with to such a degree, I believed him. I believed every slick disgusting slippery word that came out of his mouth and I knew there was no way I wanted someone’s death on my hands. He also varied his methods in keeping me quiet; he often would remark that if we were ever caught (notice, we, he tried to make it into an activity we were both somehow embarking on mutually. Choice of words were integral in keeping me his little prisoner) our family would no longer talk and that would somehow be my fault. As I grew older and he could see I was pushing away, he tried to entice me by convincing me with his words, asking that I would just give him a foot massage (clearly hoping it would go elsewhere), forcing himself into my room and lying on my bed and not leaving, or offering me various sums of money to do various acts. He even went so far as to tell my mother that he did not think I liked him anymore because I always avoided him and rarely would talk to him at family gatherings. Well, if that was not a red flag, I really do not know what is. Nevertheless I was pushed into spending more time with him and began to lose hope, afraid I was stuck in some disgusting version of the movie Groundhog Day.

At this point I suppose the reader may be wondering how else I might have tried to get people to notice something was wrong… Well, one major tactic I learned, whether it started as a tactic or as a logical way to get me away from possible perpetrators, was to hang out with and play with mostly girls. At the time I had no idea he had molested girls (or even the at least 5 other people beside me), therefore I logically went to play with who I did not think he had any interest in, who I did not think would try to molest me, and who I felt I would be the safest with.

One of those people happened to be my cousin (and best friend) Emily; I told her a lot and she kept me safe. Needless to say, but only playing with girls was not effective 100%, but it worked well enough that I know I did avoid some possible encounters because I was not playing with the boys he was concentrating on.

He even would go so far as to comment on the fact that I was playing with only girls and try to bring my sexuality into question. I was a fucking child and here he was telling my mother’s side things he thought about me; he still makes me want to throw up when I think about it. Not only did he attempt to spread his volatile opinions into the weak minds of others, but he tried to force his own questioning of himself onto me. For example, one time he told me he was reading a book about being homosexual and he thought that, having read it, it meant that he was probably gay and that I probably was as well. Having those comments consistently thrust into my brain as a child resulted in a lot of harm and damage.

Another way he forced his questioning upon me was by starting to call me a girl’s name…

To be continued in Part II

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If you desire insight as to how being molested has made me feel or want to understand the things that clatter inside my brain I would suggest you watch the movie Mysterious Skin, I identify with the nerdy boy uncomfortable with the thought of intimacy.

Another valuable source to help you understand (or to look at if you have been sexually molested) would be to visit this website: http://rainn.org/get-info/effects-of-sexual-assault/adult-survivors-of-childhood-sexual-abuse

Pig

These hands have been ruined,

down to every hair, every crease.

These legs have been destroyed;

you can see it if you view.

.

These eyes have been seared;

images never to be unseen.

These ears have heard many destroyers,

snaking their way, crumbling my essence.

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This nose has smelled the putrid,

down to the seething shuttering sickness.

This brain has become entangled, fortified and breached;

left to piece together, left to lose the jungle.

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This body has been left quivering;

afraid of advances, frozen by sheer bulk.

Those held sacred have been tarnished…

and left afraid to use, altered and incapable.

Your Little House of Horrors

You are a dirty piece of shit and that is all you will ever be to me. A foul excuse for a man, a mere smudge left on the floor. Your voice is similar to the sound of fingernails on a chalkboard… Nay, worse than that. If heard, it makes me shudder, makes me want to vomit, makes me feel like someone is holding a dull pen to my body and pushing, pushing and pushing until it draws blood, then wriggling it around for added effect.

I am haunted by your movements, your advances, your violations and more. I shrink back from sincerity afraid of malice intent. You don’t know when to stop, both in reality and in dream, nor do I think you ever will. Your list of horrors only seems to grow by day, yet your responsibility is held to a minimum and you have become an expert at shirking them. 

They may complain I am too harsh, too volatile and toss their hatred laughingly in my direction… for which I welcome; their hatred only makes it easier to rise above and leave behind. For that, I thank them; they have made it far easier to strive toward a happiness, away from their anger and away from them.

Alas, their sorrow shall be short lived! Their happiness should increasingly spread in bounds, due to the enjoyment of a year moving about on a growing chain that allows much oiling and tending… away from glancing eyes of supremacy and even further away during 20 years of loose observation. 20 years of loose observation that will undoubtedly be reduced due to your false faces and hidden truths; you and your mammoth cemetery of mysteries.

Ah, but the happiness is nonexistent on this end. None of those beastly years will ever compare to the 20 (and counting) years of Hell that you have so graciously bequeathed to me and others. Fuck, your one year isn’t even an ant hill to my Himalayas, my Everest, those 12 plus years spent in the throes of your little house of horrors.

I had to toil to wriggle myself free from your perpetual clutch and then claw my way from the pits of entrapment, but you, you are thrown into a puddle, told to swim out and then offered towels to pat yourself dry.

Good luck, enjoy the slap on the hand that you have received, may the tingle at least remind you of the messes you have created and grow into a putrid, ugly scar.

I, on the other-hand, well, do not concern yourself with me; your thoughts and apologies will never console. I have much work to do before I can relight the glitter and passionate burning to the stars so effortlessly extinguished, much work to do indeed…

Giggles and Twinkles

A smile stretches

ear to ear

You teach me to be unafraid

to fight uncertainty, fear.

.

No one can do

what you seem to

I pine over

Thrive on our conversing.

.

You remind me of more

cause the twinkling to return

Leave me giggling on the floor

wishing, hoping for more.

Loans

Loans, blasted things.

I have made many mistakes, some of the bigger mistakes (literally) will cost me (literally again) for quite some years to come.

I hate how much debt I have (and I haven’t even gone to graduate school yet!), especially when it may very likely prevent me from doing some really great things that I would like to do. I envy those who can respond that they have no debt or that they “owe” their parents. Yes, I am sure you are going to pay your parents back some day, but with interest? Ha, I doubt.

I wish, as I am sure millions of people in the word do too, that I could figure out a way to start making serious dents in this massive mountain. Start a donation page? Ha, sounds like a great idea, but how plausible is it actually? Everyone wants free money, what makes me more special than others that everyone should donate money to my “cause” of massive debt?

Others may respond: You should not have gone to Micronesia to teach for the next couple of years, but instead have joined the daily grind, worked hard, and before you know it your $8x,xxxx would have been paid off. I am not so sure I believe that, especially given the current job climate, or lack there of.

I could have stayed in the U.S., continued to work at my basically-minimum-waged job doing more work than my manager, stressed-out, paid for rent, paid for food, paid for travel, etc. and at the end of the year still have about the same amount of money to contribute to the loan sharks (Baby there’s a shark in the water, and in my case, several!) that I will have doing something far more worthwhile; teaching and experiencing many wonderful things here on the island of Chuuk. OK, so maybe I would have had a little more there than here, but… ISLAND. Need I say more?

People will argue that I should not have borrowed so much, that I should have been more decisive with my education, and even that I should not have studied abroad a year by transferring to the school. All of which I would say are valid points, especially the last. However, that is not to say I did not enjoy my experiences because I definitely did. The only thing I can say back to those statements would be that: If it were not for loans, I would never have gone to college. Never. 

My parents are not rich, in fact, nowhere near rich. I am not rich and as far as I know, there are no relatives or close family friends that are holding out on me either (haha). Therefore, I did what I had to do in order to work toward creating a better life for myself, something I and my parents desperately wanted (and still want) for me. Did I go about it all wrong? Perhaps.

I worked while going to school, which at times made things more difficult, and despite how much I may have worked, none of that was able to be saved up to pay my loans. Why you ask? Well, given I needed to eat, needed to buy books, needed a place to sleep, etc. I found myself with a little less than nothing every month. However, the icing-on-the-cake is that I can now happily say that I am the proud owner of a piece of paper stating my credentials!

This brings up another train-of-thought: What really is a better life? Do you need to go to college for that? Perhaps that is something I should have figured out pre-debt, but it is definitely a worth-while thing for those thinking about college to consider. If you are unsure if college is for you, then take off a year or two to decide if you want to do it and if you do, what it is you want to do. 

There is absolutely no shame in not going to college; there are many happy people in the world without college degrees. Money does not equal happiness and debt definitely does not equal happiness either.

Alas, perhaps I am being too cynical or too sarcastic and flippant. I am proud of my piece of paper and still enjoy the topics that I majored in.

Either way, perhaps I am looking at this in completely the wrong way.

Maybe I just need to find a sugar mama… Any takers? Know of any billionaires that simply have run out of things to do with their money?

Better yet: Are you looking to sponsor someone (no need for fighting, multiple donors accepted!)? It will be a win-win situation for the both of us! With easy monthly payments of $2,000 (negotiable) for less than 44 months (or longer should you choose to be a lifetime donor!) you can help to relieve my bone-crunching debt! Not convinced? Contact me in the next hour and receive thousands of letters, four wallet-sized photos and three 8.5x11 portraits of your sponsor-son that you can share at your office, at home, at church, and virtually any social gathering (5x7, $2.00 extra; extra 8.5x11 now only $2.50!). Contact me in the next 15-30 minutes and receive unlimited emails, a handful of Skype chats, and a free Facebook add! Still not quite convinced? If you contact me in the next 5-10 minutes you will also receive a lifetime of gratitude and respect AND an open offer to visit me in beautiful Micronesia (expenses not paid)! Teetering between contacting and not contacting me for this amazing, once-in-a-lifetime offer? Then have no fear! Contact me in the next 5 minutes or less and you will forever hold a special place in my heart and soul… plus a photo of your choice, free! BUT THAT’S NOT ALL, you will also receive three dinner-outings to be used at your discretion (expenses not paid)! So what are you waiting for? CONTACT ME NOW BEFORE THIS AMAZING OFFER EXPIRES (no expiration date, but still, contact NOW!)!

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Seriously…