Dear God; I’m A Flawed Man

IMG_0128 Dear God,

I can be insecure at times. If I’m being honest at 4am on a Tuesday morning I can be insecure a lot of the times. I wonder if I’m ever going to be the writer I see myself being in my head. I wonder if I’m ever going to be the husband or father I make the characters in my stories out to be. My insecurities are masked by my talent, by my ability to stop people from getting close to me. My insecurities protect me from my fears.

Fears that consume me. Fears that I drown in the unrelenting sea of bottles that have come to comfort me. Fears that hold my confidence in their hands like the oceans hold fish and ships. Fears that I’m not sure I will ever overcome. Fears that aren’t based in race or religion or sex but fears that are based in emotional and mental uncertainty.

Why is it that I was created this way? Why is it that I can’t see what everyone else seems to see in me? Does it make me weak? Does it make me undeserving of the life you’ve given me? Sometimes I don’t know where I’m going or where I’m destined to be. Sometimes I don’t know just how much my life matters or is going to matter in this world. There are times I’ve looked for signs, prayed for guidance only to feel more lost than when I first fell to my knees.

Last week at this same time before the sun rose I stood on a beach letting the waves wash over me looking out into the horizon trying to see my future. Trying to see if I could be a man better than my father, trying to see if I can be a man better than the man I am now. As the sun rose and my eyes burned from the salt and the tears I couldn’t see it. Falling to my knees in that sand I felt as though. I felt as though I felt nothing which is the worst feeling in the world.

Will I lose everything dear to me, everyone I love? Will I forsake the love you have for me and fall to doubt, envy, insecurity, fear? Or will I rise. Will I grow into the King’s blood that pumps into my flawed heart?

I write about relationships and love. I write about life and responsibility. And even though I have an amazing woman in my life and an amazing family at times I feel as though they’re all an illusion. A dream that turns into a nightmare when I awake and they’re no longer going to be here.

For a man that prides himself on not really needing friends and being able to spend hours and days alone just writing; the thought of being alone in this world scares me more than standing on a beach with a sword waiting on a thousand ships with 10,000 soldiers bearing down on me. Death doesn’t scare me, war or tension don’t scare me. But the idea, the thought of dying unaccomplished or alone scares me to death.

This morning, I just want to talk to you God, write to you. To ask that you don’t give up on me. To ask that you don’t allow me to give up on myself. I will keep fighting with your help. I will keep living with your help. I just need you.

In Your Darling Son Jesus’s Name,


~ Demez

Stand for Something or Fall for Anything

black historyThis past couple of days has shown me a lot about some people. I find it disheartening when I see so many that simply don’t care. I’m not asking that you become a freedom fighter or boycott or march for peace. I’m not asking that you start to care about social issues or care about people that aren’t as fortunate as you. What I can’t understand though is how you don’t care about this Trayvon Martin issue? It touches at the soul of ignorance, racism and privilege.

I watched a juror on National Television say in front of the whole world that she felt sorry for “George,” that she could relate at the pain and suffering he went thru because of what happened to “that boy.” I watched person after person that doesn’t look like me say that a sidewalk was a weapon. I watched person after person say that it was both their faults.

You want to know why I’m not mad at these people walking on freeways or blacking out their pictures or being angry? I’m not mad at them because I’ve watched person after person say that this could have all been avoided of Trayvon would have just ran or told Zimmerman what he was doing walking at 7pm. Do you want to know what would have happened if Trayvon would have ran, he would have gotten shot in the back. Do you want to know what would have happened if Trayvon would have killed that man or really hurt him; he would be in prison at this very moment.

So we’re on the same page, I wasn’t even upset on Saturday night. When I heard the verdict my logic was a jury heard the case and voted what they thought was right. Over these last three days though, hearing the background of the jurors, their mindset. Hearing the attorneys and Zimmerman’s family, seeing the ignorance on social media, now it means so much more to me.

How can you only care about yourself, how can you only want to post pics and talk about your haters?

Those that know better do better!

Those that don’t, well… They end up running this same damn rat race.

Demez F. White

If You Don’t Have Faith In Him; How Can He Have Faith In You

379994_610579043725_118401058_31642843_1262844695_n Today I found out someone I used to know is married. I spent the better part of my afternoon sitting in my office just sort of thinking. I often question why things happen the way they happen and in the midst of my thoughts one thought always comes to mind. If God wanted it for me it would be for me. Faith isn’t easy, it doesn’t come with perfect confidence. Not for me it doesn’t. For me faith comes with a lot of praying and a lot of sacrifice. Faith is knowing that he has my best interest in heart even when I don’t.

When we lose faith, in essence we’re severing our support system with God. It’s easy to be happy and to be a believer when everything is going well. When the woman you think you’ll marry is happy and you look forward to going to work. Our faith is tested when that woman marries another man, when you look at your cell for 15 minutes before work wondering if you should call in. The easiest thing in the world is to give up, is to feel sorry for yourself but why give up when he has never given up on you?

In my heart I know that I’m far from perfect, I know that I have so many ways I could better myself. My faith doesn’t allow me to dwell in my imperfections, in my fears, in my rejections. My faith gives me the strength to see past the bad dates or promotions I didn’t get. My faith gives me hope that everything I desire may not come when I want it but it will come. If it doesn’t it’s because God is protecting me from something I didn’t need anyway.

If you don’t have faith in him, how can he have faith in you? Remember that the next time your fears outweigh your convictions.

Fear, Depression, Faith and Redemption…

379994_610579043725_118401058_31642843_1262844695_n February 5, 2010 was the night. It was my 27th birthday and I spent it alone. I hated my job, I didn’t have any friends, no woman, I was disconnected from my family. I’d never felt more alone in my life. I was in the parking lot of a furniture store, my bank account overdrawn, tears in my eyes, I didn’t want to live anymore. I had a nine millimeter in my hand that I’d bought a month earlier from a gun show at George R. Brown. It was a piece of crap and to this day I can’t remember why I even bought it but that night I tried to load bullets into the clip and they wouldn’t fit. I’ll never forget this, it was a High Point gun and apparently Academy didn’t sell ammo for that weapon. I knew so little about guns that I thought all 9’s took the same bullets. I got out of my truck, fell to my knees and cried harder than I’d ever cried before. Prayed harder than I’ve ever prayed, I just needed some guidance, needed a sign or a message that my life was worth living.

That night I hit rock bottom. I felt unaccomplished, I felt ugly, I felt unloved and undeserving of life. I wish I could say that I was reborn that night, that I saw a light and realized my life was worth living but none of that happened. What I remembered thinking was, “I can’t put my family thru this, I can’t give up on them. I can’t go out like this. That night I vowed that no matter how depressed I got or how hard life got I would never give up again. I would never let these thoughts consume me. It’s still a struggle, there are days where happiness seems like a world away but I fight it, I pray about it, I write. I go see my little cousins and play with them, talk to them, watch their smiles. My life is worth living and so is yours. Don’t ever look at other people and feel like they have it all together because you don’t know what’s going on in their minds and hearts. You’re stronger than you know!

I’ve pushed more people away in my 30 yrs of life than you can ever imagine. There’s a fear inside of me that I’ll break her heart or disappoint her. As charming as I can be there are days where I feel like I can barely speak to people. Friends think I’m acting funny, women think I want to be a player and all I want is to sit them down and tell them that I don’t know how to be a friend. I don’t know how to be a boyfriend. I know the right words to say, the right things to do but how do you open up and share the part that scares you with someone else?
There’s no way to tell a woman that I don’t think I’m good enough for you, that there are days where I don’t think I’m good enough for anyone. How do you tell a friend that I want to be there for you but I can’t even hug you without flinching or allow you to put your head on my shoulder if you need that shoulder to lean on? How do you tell them that I need your help to get to that point and I’ll pull away, I’ll be difficult, but I need you not to give up on me? I need you to fight for me, to help me fight for you.

Alcohol, women that I didn’t even like, pretending that I had it all together. That was my life, that’s who I was. I was that man because reality wasn’t something I could handle. A college dropout living with his grandparents, bad credit, out of shape and unable to smile for anything? What kind of reality is that?! I moved out and got my own place, I fixed my credit and stopped talking about what I couldn’t do for myself and started doing it. Now I spend most of my nights alone with my thoughts but I don’t think as much and I don’t have sex without meaning anymore. The process is slow and I still fall short but with each day my faith grows stronger and I don’t feel as weak, I don’t feel like such a loser anymore. I don’t know why I’m being so honest tonight other than I want someone to read this and know that you aren’t alone, that there’s no shame in thinking about depression or suicide. There’s no shame in worrying that your life won’t have any meaning. There’s only shame in giving into those thoughts and giving up on yourself and the plan and future God has for you.


Mutual Hate and Grief…


A layer of skin is the difference between her being a murderer and a suicide victim. If she’d stabbed my child two months later she’d be in prison for the rest of her life but she stabbed him while he was still in her body. Women love to talk about how it’s “their body, their right” but what about my rights?! My fucking justice!

Watching her in the hospital room, lying in the bed I could feel nothing but hatred. The bitch wanted to hurt me, she wanted me to not just feel the pain she was feeling but to feel a pain that no man or woman should ever feel. The pain of burying your child.

Closing the door and blinking away the tears that I could no longer control, I sat at her bedside and shook her awake. Her eyes were red, she was groggy but she knew who I was. The look in her eyes wasn’t one of sorrow or regret, it was one of hate. She blamed me for the murder just as much as I blamed her. “I hope the bitch was worth it,” she said. I kissed her on the forehead and responded, “Say hello to my son for me.” I gripped my hands around her neck, she was too medicated and weak to scream. The harder I squeezed, the harder I cried. The blood vessels in her eyes popped, her body went limp and I let go…  She gasped for air and I placed my head in her lap. She was coughing and choking but she put her hand in my hair as I lay on her thighs. I hated her, she hated me but no one else knew what I was feeling but her and that bond kept me from killing her. That bond kept me from loving Alexis.

Morning Manifestos

Do you ever sit and ponder, sit and wonder about where you are? About why you’re here at this exact moment?

I do, often, I think about the mistakes I’ve made. I think about the sins I’ve committed and whether or not the people I love will pay for my mistakes. I think about the women I’ve loved, I still see all their faces, I remember all their laughs. Over the past year or so I’ve turned a corner with my writing, it’s become more than writing. It’s become art.

I can see the words, the paragraph, the chapter before I even write it. Creating characters with different voices and different desires has become my escape, my world. It’s not easy not being able to show your pain or sorrow to the people you love because you have to be strong for them.

“Why are you single?” Is a question I get asked more and more and I always give the same response.

“Just haven’t met the right one.”

But that’s not the answer, the answer is I’m still single because I’m terrified of bringing a woman into my life and breaking her heart. Not because I’m a cheater or user or liar but because I need her to go thru these growing pains with me. I’ll be angry and reclusive and sad and I need her to be strong enough to deal with all that, to not resent me for pushing her away but have open arms when I come back.

How can I ask any woman to do that? To swallow my pain and still love me? That’s not fair so I smile and say what needs to be said to have others smile because the truth isn’t something people really want.

They want the truth if you’ve mislead them or have used them but they don’t want the truth when they don’t know how to handle it. As I sit at my desk writing this, the sun rising, the sky calm, my eyes burning from another night of not sleeping. I wish that I was a different man, one that didn’t think about the day after tomorrow and just thought about tonight.

People think they know me, they think I write the things I write just to write them. I believe that romance and love cures lives, that the laughter and warmth of a woman is going to heal me.


Pressure bursts pipes but it also creates diamonds.

Is it fair to ask a woman that I don’t even know exists to deal with what’s in my head and heart, to deal with the massive talent and ego I posses but also deal with the temper and hate I have? I’ll be the guy that cooks and massages feet and pays bills but I’ll also be the guy that needs you to stay up with me because some nights I’m afraid to sleep for fear that I’ll wake up to news I know I can’t handle.

Men say there aren’t any good women, they’re either lame or full of shit. I’ve met dozens, I’ve went out with just as many and they want to be wives and to be there but I pushed them away for their own good. Because I knew I would just ruin them. They deserved to be happy, to not have to live with the shadow of who I am.

I have no doubt I’ll be a great writer because I wear my emotions on my sleeve and bleed those emotions on paper.

My son will be better than me if I have one. He’ll be smarter and have a father and mother that adore him. He won’t be left to figure out this hateful world for himself. My daughter will know what it’s like to see a man love a woman more than he’s ever loved himself. She’ll sit up with her mother while she’s getting ready to watch her father take her out. She’ll know what to expect from the men that will want her. I’ve sort of given up on being happy in life, if I can create a family and have my wife and children be happy I’ll be content. That’s my atonement for my sins.

Don’t mind these ramblings of a writer. Good Morning and be safe today.

Demez F. White


Marriage Counseling III ‘Date Night’

When I woke up this morning there was a note tapped to the mirror in the bathroom.

“Dear Wife… I made you a spa appointment at the Four Seasons for 11am. A car will be there to pick you up around 10:30. Pack a bag for a day or two and set the alarm when you leave. They’ll be further instructions for you at the hotel. I’m looking forward to our date. I love you.”

I read the note 3 more times before I remembered that the car would be here in an hour. He’d always start the night in the bed with me but around two or three he’d go to the home gym or his office and just be in his own world.

At first I just knew if he wasn’t touching me he was touching someone but I checked all our phone records, his emails, popped up at his office during lunch and there was no one else. I think I just wanted a fight. To scream or yell or just a fight.

But last night he slept in the bed all night. I woke up around two and his arms around me felt foreign for a second. Lying with my husband must have seriously calmed me because I slept till past 9 for the first time since our son…

Making the bed, packing a weeks worth of clothes and lingerie when he clearly meant for us to stay just the weekend; I couldn’t stop bouncing around. My husband spoiled me, he treated me like he was afraid to let me down. Attention, affection, sex, selfless, nasty sex. So not getting that attention had me not just stressed physically but emotionally I was wrecked.

However! There is no way we were staying at the Four Seasons for a weekend and not wearing each other out.

I did one last check around the house. Called my mother and sister to let them know I’d be out of pocket for a couple days and smiled as the chauffeur opened the back door to my town car.

In the backseat was an open bottle of chilled wine, some grapes and two envelopes. I grabbed the smallest one. It was his Amex. He paid all the bills but my credit card bills.

I opened the other envelope.

“Dear Wife… I pushed your spa day back till one. Buy what you want. Well, buy most of what you want. I’d appreciate it if you forget to buy panties. We haven’t played that little game we like to play at dinner in awhile. We can’t live in the past any longer. We’ll make this right tonight and we’ll make another child tonight or at least get started trying. I love you.”

When he wanted something he made it happen. I think I had my husband back!

Part IV this afternoon.

A Letter to Demez…

Dear Demez,

There is a part of you I fear no one will ever know.

There is an emptiness inside of you that I fear will never be filled.

For all of your good qualities there is a part of your soul, your mind, that will never truly feel you deserve the grace God has bestowed upon you.


You’ve come too far to walk back but are you willing to walk forward? To open the door and take the risk?

Is there a night, a day, a moment where you don’t wonder if you’ll fall apart and burn into pieces?

When you pour the liquid in the glass and watch it sit there, taunting you, waiting on you… Knowing what it did to your father, what it’s capable of doing to you… When you feel the burn coursing down your throat catching fire in your chest.


Why does self-destruction come so natural?  

Why are you willing to sabotage every relationship?

Every friendship?


Does she think about you? Probably not…

Will they miss you once the writing stops and the words don’t flow so naturally? Who knows…

Is there a happily ever after in your future? Only if you open your heart to the possibility…


The touch of a woman calms you, gives you life in the moment but only in the moment.

The feeling of knowing you made her smile stops with her smile.

The thought of waking up to the humming of the ceiling fan and the chirp of the birds only serves to remind you that you’re waking up alone.


I write you this not to remind you of that emptiness, of that hole.

But to give you hope that with all I’ve said you still have a chance at redemption.

A chance to be great in this life and the next.


The storm clouds are gathering outside.

The rain is falling.

Your heart is heavy but the storm will pass.


I believe in you even when you don’t believe in yourself for you am I and I am you.

Maybe you’ll die on a hotel room in Paris alone with a bottle of scotch and your precious words.

Or maybe you’ll die surrounded by family and friends.


Either way just know your fate is in your hands.


Sincerely Yours,

Demez F. White



Fight For Me… (II)


“I’m telling you because you need to know you can’t take me for granted! Because I don’t want anyone else but I’m tired of feeling like I’m always running in second! You know I love your writing and I love how passionate you are about it but there are days when I need more baby! Don’t shut me out! Please! I love you!”

To Be Continued…

I squeezed her arms tighter, she bruised easy and even though my heart was beating a mile a minute I was aware of that when her skin started to turn red. I knew it hurt but she didn’t say a word, I let her go and turned my back.

Feeling her breath on my neck, I wanted to push her away but I couldn’t. She was all I had outside of my words, all I had outside of the people that read my work. They didn’t know me outside of the cover of my novels but she knew me, all of me.

“Why the fuck did you have to tell me?! What do you want me to do Raquel!? Fuck!!!” The kiss came fast and as much as I wanted to slap her I kissed her back and we fell on the bed! I ripped her shirt and she wiggled out of her sweats, I bit her stomach. She started to bleed, I licked it off.

She leaned down and traced my lips with her fingers, her mouth found mine again and she straddled my lap.

“Fight for me! Don’t take this for granted because I’m a good woman and I won’t always be here baby! I wish I could tell you otherwise but I won’t always be here! If this is yours act like it’s yours!” She placed my hand on her heart, then brought it down to her pussy.

As much as I didn’t want to I let the tears fall, I can’t even tell you why they fell. Maybe the thought that I almost lost her became real with my fingers finding the inside of her wetness. Her bra found the floor and she brought my mouth to her nipples.

Her moans meant to world to me in this moment, the sound of her moistness was drawing me to her, I flipped her over on her back. Her legs open, her panties pulled to the side I French kissed my pussy, I kissed it like I missed it. I licked and sucked it like I didn’t have a plane to catch.

The moans and her fingers running thru my hair gave me life! It gave me perspective!

I would fight for her, “I’ll fight for you! I love you…. I swear to fucking God I love you!”

“Fight….. for… me…. baby! Please! Ahhhhhhhh….”

She was cumming down my chin but I didn’t stop, I kept kissing, kept licking, I would remind her today why she was the most important person in the world to me. I couldn’t get my pants off fast enough, she tried to take me in her mouth but I pushed her off, bent her over and went inside!

I couldn’t remember being this hard in my life!

I’m running late for work… Part III this evening 🙂