The Diary of Avery Blackman: Emancipation

My name is Avery. I'm writing this diary now, not as some private collection of my thoughts, but as a private contribution to public resources, of my successes and failures, my triumphs and disgraces. Many people know me by many different names, some of which I'm proud, some of which, not so much. There are some names that I feel it only appropriate that I, among my own company am allowed to call myself. Some people find that silly, and hell, sometimes so do I, but that's just the way it is. I was brought to this country by white men, at first of my own will, but shortly thereafter, things changed, and before I knew it, I was struggling against a force I had never imagined even existed.
But there I was, on this boat, heading off into a world of which I never knew, but came to hate after a short period of time, while also learning to love after an even longer period of time. That place was the great country known today by the name United States of America, and for a long time, it was my back that it was built upon. I was chained and forced to work without wages, sold as property and treated with the same respect upon which a mule or any other beast of burden was treated. I was inspected like an item at auctions, degraded and told constantly that I was less than a man. The insults of my captors went by me unrecognized at first, but then I learned, and I learned quickly. The White men forbade me to learn to read or write, but quietly, by the light of the stars and the moon, by the night, during the few hours of the night in which I was allowed rest, I learned the language of the White man. I learned to hate the white man, or pity him, I can't clearly remember which, but I remember praying for him often. I sang songs to help pass the lonely tired nights that I wasn't plotting my escape, or my revenge, or my education. It's so strange to come from so far, wishing for nothing more than freedom and an education, and to be where I am now. It's almost laughable. But I'm getting ahead of myself aren't I? Well, to go back on topic, I spent so much of my time dreaming of having the simplest of rights, which the White Man told me was a privilege that as a filthy nigger, I didn't deserve. As time wore on, and more and more of this great country was built on the back of A. Blackman, and things began to change, for better and for worse. Up north, I was treated with much more respect, even sometimes considered a human. Down south, where so much still depended on me being a pack mule, things got worse. I secretly learned, as much as I could, and even started to make scientific contributions. I was an inventor, an entrepreneur, a savior, and one who needed saving.
One day, a war started, and there was a chance we would end up enslaved by a whole new country, built on the backs of a slave, with no hope of freedom. I convinced the president of the United States that he should stand up against these crimes against humanity. I told him that without absolute freedom there was no freedom at all. And one day, ha, I couldn't believe it... we were free. We were free. So now I am writing this diary, because it is my Constitutional right, that I be allowed to learn to read and write, and let the world know of my triumphs.

The Sock Diaries 8/28/2012

More and more often I find myself thinking the deepest thoughts shortly after masturbation. It's not really a surprise, seeing as how I'm definitely submitting myself into the category of chronic masturbator, bordering on masturbation addict. This stems, pretty obviously, from a lifestyle of raging hormones and a lack of actual sex. I partially blame this on my former penchant for long distance relationships and the fact that I've been in the army since 2009 and have since been to 4 different temporary stations in 3 years. But my most recent epiphany came at the end of one particularly sad ending episode of a show I finally got into. It ended off with a sad song and someone reminiscing on a past relationship with teary eyes and a sad smile. It made me realize that, even when you might get so sad, and lonely, and depressed and regretful, it's all a part of being young in America. You just have to appreciate the fact that you have something to reminisce on and be confident you'll get the chance to right your wrongs and make much funner mistakes than you already have. That's our youth, full of fun times, wishful thinking, and sad songs that we think define our lives. But in reality, it's us defining those sad songs, and riding them back up to the top of our emotional, adolescent roller coasters.

The Sock Diaries 8/24/2012

I got horny. So naturally, I decided to watch some porn and get it out of the way. I was on the Playstation, and so I moved to my computer, taking my Ethernet cord with me (I don't have wifi or a router.) I got everything prepared, my clean-up tool- an old sock with no partner- my dirty category for the moment- cute chubby girls, and my porn site of choice. But for some reason, I decided to go online and go to the one place that I know my ex goes when she wants to express herself. Damn Tumblr. The one place that's open to the public to see, where I could see exactly what she was up to. I'm not sure why. Two days ago, I finally pulled the cord on our vegetative state relationship. I was cold and heartless, the only way I could be at the time, in order to make things stick. It hurt like hell on the inside, but I didn't let her see. But it was finally completely over, I told her not to contact me ever again. Two years of being madly in love, and 4 months of thinking we could eventually work it out, ended. I looked on her Tumblr for... I guess her usually venting about me, something about losing me and how much it hurt. Honestly, that would have made me feel better because at this point, I am alone and miserable, and I left her because I didn't want to be around as she moved on, easily. There was already someone else, and already, I couldn't compete with him, so I had to end it. I couldn't be around to see her slowly fade away from me. I searched for five minutes through pictures and statuses. Out of the 50 or so pics and sentences I perused, I saw maybe two that may have been about me. Nothing conclusive though. Until I saw the picture. She was beautiful, smiling, happy looking. And she was close to him, cheek to cheek as he smiled at the camera with her. It's over. The most crushing feeling I've ever felt. She's already happy and moving on while I sit here, alone, self-pitying, chasing ghosts and pretending I know what the hell I'm doing. I sat for a moment, shocked, penis in a sock, losing my erection and an alarming rate, heart-racing and mind seeking out some kind of alleviation for the pain. I chased her into his arms, and his bed. She will self-medicate on him until there is no more sting from the pain I caused. Until the cancer I was is completely remissed and I'm only a distant memory and a laugh. I wondered where I would self-medicate. Where would I go for comfort? And yet I put myself in this situation. But honestly, couldn't see myself doing it any other way. Fate seems to be the cruelest mistress of them all.

The Sock Diaries Part 1-3

I recently decided to start writing down my thoughts, or significant moments of my day, some are humorous, some are not, but I felt like I needed an outlet, and figured, who better to talk to, than anyone who'll listen?

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I poured garlic sauce on my junk today. For some reason, I've been on a really hard porn watching regimen since I bought internet from my roommate. Asian, ebony, white, chubby, midget, tranny. But don't worry, it's always tranny on girl so it's still straight. It's just weird. When you watch as much porn as I do, you become desensitized to the point where if there isn't blood and at least one vegetable, you don't get off. I'm pretty sure I'm addicted to porn, except for the fact that I don't watch it recreationally, you know, like where I just prepare some popcorn and cozy back into a seat. No, I actually watch and jerk off. Everytime. At this point my junk is sore, my hand is cramping and I am running out of weird shit to watch.
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You know you watch too much porn when you actually notice your favorite pornstars aging. It's starting to get like some kind of all nude teenage drama, she got a boob job, she got an ass job, she never gives blow jobs, she's trying to find another job... I think I'm going to try to take a break from porn and focus on the more important things in life. Like video games.
8/17/2012
People do not appreciate periods enough. I mean the monthly menstrual cycle deal. People always complain when it happens, “Oh I got cramps, I'm bleeding out of my vagina, I'm nauseous.” or, “I can't have sex, despite the fact that she likes to throw her horniness in my face constantly.” But in reality, it's a lot more upsetting when the period doesn't show up.