The Devil Inside Me by Joshua T Berglan and Jessica Linn

Joshua T. Berglan & Jessica Linn

The Devil Inside Me

Published and distributed in the United States by Joshua T Berglan and Jessica Linn

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the publisher or author, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages embodied in critical articles or in a review.

Although the author and publisher have made every effort to ensure that the information in this book is correct at press time, the author and publisher do not assume and hereby disclaim any liability to any party for any loss, damage, or disruption caused by errors or omissions, whether such errors or omissions result from negligence, accident, or any other cause.

Print — ISBN: 978–0–9996791–7–3

Copyright © 2021 Joshua T. Berglan & Jessica Linn

Table Of Contents

Introduction………………….by Joshua Berglan

Chapter One…………………………. “Newport”

Chapter Two………………………. “Inheritance”

Chapter Three……………………….. “Violated”

Chapter Four……………………………..”Drive”

Chapter Five…………………………..”Surprise”

Chapter Six………………………….”LaLaLand”

Chapter Seven……………………………. “HIV”

Chapter Eight………………………….”Cheater”

Chapter Nine……………………………….”Kids”

Chapter Ten………………………………”Death”

Parental Advisory is Advised

What you are about to read is shocking, evil, sickening, witty, offensive, painful, sad, funny, confusing, inspiring, and disturbing.

You are about to read my real-life story and it is written honestly so that any of the people I hurt over the years will be able to agree that it is truthful and will have nothing to add to it. While some of the situations in the book could make others look bad or potentially judged, please understand that any evil that was done came at my urging or manipulation. My desire for drugs, sex, and escaping the pain deep inside me was stronger than my desire to love or even care what others’ needs were.

It is quite possible that the women in this book that I hurt with my lying, cheating, and abusing really loved me and wanted to make me happy so they went along with supporting my desires.

That however does not excuse my behavior in any way. This book is not a biography, but it is my story, written in episodics due to the nature of the content. It is not meant to be read in one sitting and to be honest, after each episodic I wrote, I had to take a break because of the heaviness of the content, and it is my life. Some episodics will overlap with others and that is by design.

One other thing you might notice are frequent changes of tone in the messaging within each episodic and while that is not by design, it is because I was not able to control shifting in and out of the different alters I have. Alters are the different “people” that live inside of me. Some people know it as DID, others know it as multiple personality disorder. You will meet some of the different people that live within me throughout this book and a lot of them you will not like very much. I cannot say I like them very much either, at least all the time.

I also want to warn you that this book is triggering and will awaken any unhealed traumas or pain you have tried to run from or stuff deep inside of you, For some of you, it may awaken past demons, but I do believe that is a good thing because it may inspire you to confront them before it is too late.

I wish I could write this and say that I am no longer this person (or people) and while I work every day to be a better man, and for the most part, I am, I always know that I am one decision away from succumbing to the evil, twisted and deranged behavior I lived in for over 30 years of my life. To this day, when presented with the thoughts of that life, they seduce, arouse, and sometimes comfort me, depending on the day or even moments of the day.

The forbidden fruit that was exposed to me to help me get delivered from the internal suffering I carried with me since I was a child was so enticing that I could not resist it because it promised not just a relief from hurting, it offered pleasure, happiness, and confidence that I had never experienced before. That same fruit still taunts me to this day, but the method of seduction is much different now. The “devil” has modernized its approach because there is nothing more it would love than to have control over me once again.

Flying first class from Newport Beach, California, on my way home to Oklahoma City, downing free drinks. “Was this the 6th or 7th? Who cares!” I thought. I was already getting excited and anxious fantasizing about discovering new sex partners with my girlfriend. As my mind raced, I tried to make a mental list of everything we would need. First, I needed to pick up what had become my standing order of two 8 balls from my dealer. Better get poppers, lube, and sex pills too, I decided, before we started our hunt for playthings or human sex toys as I called them. I wanted to be fully prepared.

Cocaine, sex, and searching for additional sex partners had become our ritual 3 to 4 times a week when I was in town. Oh, but those nights I was just coming back from long business trips away, those nights were always the most special.

I loved my girlfriend. Loved her in the only way I understood love. My limited understanding of love was merely if you let me do what I want, I will be nice to you. My girlfriend was the first woman I had ever been honest with about my sexual desires. Not only of me sleeping with other men, but my passion for bringing other guys in to have sex with the woman I love also. Not to mention my cuckold fetish, watching her be pleased by many men at one time. She let me do what I wanted with my sexual desires, so I loved her.

Cocaine fueled all of my desires and always made me want more. More of everything really. More coke because I could never get enough (don’t get me started about meth). The only thing that made me stop snorting coke was a nosebleed or not being able to breathe through my nose, sometimes both.

Cocaine and meth made my thirst for sex unquenchable. It did not matter if we had just had 2 or 3 guys over, when they left, the hunt for more began immediately.

My skincare business allowed me the opportunity to travel and explore cool cities, like NYC, LA, Dallas, Miami, and Las Vegas, for weeks at a time. I always missed her on those trips. Although I had fun working, frequenting bathhouses, or going to sex parties I found off of sex apps and websites, I always imagined her there with me. I always wanted her to experience the unsatisfiable, yet pleasure-filled debauchery I got myself into.

As I fulfilled my desires with men, my craving for her being a part of it fueled my desire for others to ravage her even more than they were ravaging me.

My thirst for sex made me feel like what I imagine a vampire must feel after they tasted the first drop of blood. It was an insatiable, undeniably unstoppable, and unconquerable fierce appetite that totally possessed me.

Coming home to her brought me the same level of excitement that some people experience anticipating the next Mike Tyson heavyweight title fight. Only our rounds lasted a lot longer than his fights and being a participant, instead of just an observer, delivered the almost welcomed soreness experienced the following day, or whenever the party ended.

Experiencing the almost paralyzing anticipation of seeing her, fantasizing about what she would wear for them, was interrupted when I was struck with the numbing thought of blowing through $500,000 dollars in just a few months. The rage in my loins started to dwindle as I began to worry about how I could keep up this lifestyle of sex, drugs, and reckless spending.

Six months before, I was sitting on over half a million dollars in my bank account from my Father’s inheritance to now watching nearly a million dollars of investment money disappear faster than a hot rail of meth. Although I never spent money on meth (because I got it while hooking up off of sex apps), the combination of cocaine, sex clubs, spending recklessly, and bad business decisions had me on the brink of losing everything, again.

I had lost everything once before from blowing money and cocaine; it is what ended my first marriage. It was then, in the process of my return from 3 months in rehab, I fell in love with chemsex (meth and sex) while seeing one of my “massage girl” friends. That is what took my sex obsession over the edge because my “friend” allowed me to be me, for only $200 a session.

I had become more preoccupied with that new obsession, forgetting all about being a father to my newborn twins. In losing everything then, I really lost EVERYTHING. I chose to give my twins up for adoption after not being able to pay for the insane amount of child and spousal support I was ordered to pay.

There I was again, only this time cognitive of watching the money disappear. What would I do? I knew I needed to do something bold, but I was too drunk and too horny to care about that.

I started looking through my phone at the videos and pictures I had taken from the night before. Images from an orgy with a group of guys, a girl, and a transexual that I arranged to get myself more hyped for my return to my girlfriend.

I was relieved that we would be doing blow tonight because the meth from the last few days had caused me to eat up the inside of my mouth. Snorting cocaine would be easier for me to handle, that is if my heart did not explode.

Sex wasn’t as good on blow, but I could not get my girlfriend to do meth (unless I slipped it to her without her knowing).

As I scrolled through my phone, looking over the previous night’s festivities one more time before deleting the evidence to hide any trail of my cheating, I stumbled upon a picture of my father.

I hated him and immediately I was disgusted at all he had done to me. I felt his hands around my throat as I heard the words, “you are not my son” over and over again, as my mind drifted back to that night my freshman year in college. It was that night I quit caring about him and finally allowed myself to truly hate him for all that he was, and all that he was not.

My best friend and I had been at a house party that night. As he was dropping me off after the party, cops were everywhere surrounding my home. Walking in the front door I saw that the couch was turned over, the grandfather clock that had been in my family for a lifetime was destroyed, and there was broken glass everywhere.

When the cops left, my father immediately started screaming at me with blind rage. He blamed me for the damages, saying one of my whore’s boyfriends had wrecked his home. He screamed at me to leave. “Why dad? Why? I did not do this to you, I love you dad. Please stop! I don’t even have a whore right now. Stop it dad! Stop! Please! All I have ever done is try to make you happy and please you. I have only wanted to make you proud.” I pleaded.

“You are not my son, get the fuck out of my home!” he yelled.

I hated him then and now I hate his wife for taking part of MY rightful inheritance.

Fuck them all.

That thought brought me right back to my panic. I had to figure out how to stop hemorrhaging money, but even more than that, I knew I needed to get the hell out of Oklahoma.

“Where should I go?” I wondered.

“West” came to mind, but I laughed it off because how cliche is that? “Go west young man.” In all seriousness, it is a bit ridiculous to run a skincare business in Oklahoma and if I moved to a different city, a bigger city, maybe I could finally be free to be me. Maybe I would not have to hide my sexuality anymore, or at least find out who/what I really am. Is it the drugs that fuel my desires or is this really me?

Every once in a while, after a bad experience hooking up with strange men, I would question what I was doing; try to convince myself to stop. I would force-feed my mind one of the devotions my mom would send, but I just did not feel it. It wouldn’t take much, a couple of drinks or seeing a picture, to reawaken ‘It’ enough to start taunting me with its seduction. It was the promise of pleasure and euphoria that seemed to be the only thing that brought me any peace.

When I ignored It, It would taunt me more, and I could never function properly. When I neglected to give It attention, I was depressed, felt awkward, and had no joy. Happiness only came when I gave ‘It’ what It wanted. I owed it to him, ‘It’, the devil inside me. After all, he is who kept me safe after what happened to me as a child. He did take my pain away so who am I to deny ‘It’ now?

Giving ‘It’ what it wanted always seemed to make everything else go ok. Those moments I tried to stop feeding it, made my life hell. All I could think about was what I heard each and every time I went to church. I was not ‘religious’ but I did grow up going to church. Now as an adult, I only attended to make my mother happy. I loved her and I never liked hurting her. Of course, as soon as I left church, I was at the bar. Then shortly after a drink or two, doing blow, or meth to kick start the debaucherous evening.

I grew up in a Baptist church. All I heard was “gay people go to hell”, “sex is for marriage, between a man and woman”, “fornicators!” Well, I liked having sex with anything that walked so where does that leave me? “No sex outside of marriage or you go to hell!” I heard over and over from the preacher man. Funny thing is, he got caught stealing money from the church to buy his whore jewelry, so what does he know?

God didn’t keep me from getting molested by those men and my babysitter, so either God is not real, or he does not give a crap about me.

When the plane landed, I desperately needed blow. I was drunk from 8 airplane bottles of vodka and a little embarrassed by the scolding I got from the flight attendant that I drank too much on the plane. I was told I cannot drink like that on a plane anymore and they wanted me to promise I was not driving myself.

Flying as much as I did, at that point, I had become friends with the flight crew. Maybe they only pitied me or felt like I needed to be mothered and were not really my friends. Either way, I needed cocaine and sent the text to place my order.

Next Episodic “Inheritance”

The day we got the news that my father’s melanoma came back, and he only had a short time to live, brought me a small amount of joy. The doctors gave him a year to live and frankly, that was far too long. I wanted him to die because I wanted my money. I wanted the money I felt he cheated me out of in the sale of a company that I built. Although watching him suffer sucked, it was more about seeing this once proud and extremely active man be reduced to shuffling his feet and barely being able to function properly. It was pathetic to watch him waste away and I just wanted his death over with.

Before the return of my father’s melanoma, we had sold our family healthcare business. It was sold to a national company that had been buying complex rehab medical equipment businesses all over the country, because companies like ours were struggling to make it with the new Medicare changes that cut reimbursements in half.

I was furious that I did not get a bigger cut for the company that I built, especially because the sale price was way over our real value. In my heart, I knew it was because of me that everyone else got paid and our other business partner, who contributed nothing to the company, was a greedy schmuck who took most of what belonged to me.

I did get a payout, however, and as soon as I got the money, I had myself a party. My weekends consisted of a gram or two of cocaine unless I was already hammered. Then I would just go straight to the gay hookup apps looking for PnP which means “party and play” and was code for “I want meth and to have sex and I do not care about much else, including what the person looked like as long as they had a nice piece.”

I loved meth. I loved meth because the quality was never as inconsistent as cocaine. On meth, the sex was better, and it expanded my options because, with blow, I was a tad more picky and still factored in looks. Meth removed all of my standards other than caring about the sizes of the penises involved. Except now that I was an employee of the company who just bought us, meth was much harder to do because of the recovery time afterward.

A gram or two of blow did not really affect me much the next day, so I was always back at the gym, although it got strange at times, still being in a hyper sex state, going into the gym saunas. Both cocaine and meth caused my perv mode to be hyperactive. Yet it was meth that made it impossible to satisfy my cravings.

My second divorce was now final, and I could explore new sex buddies without having to hide it, at least from my wife. I really cared for her and wanted to make it work but her kids drove me crazy, and I resented her for taking away the option of us having sex with other men. She was the first woman I was kinda honest with about my sexuality, even if it was by accident. Most of the truth came out when I was on the phone with her, high on crystal meth, telling her how I fantasized about her gay friends.

She had this insane amount of love for me, and she was the greatest example of love I had ever met in my life, other than my mother. She loved me no matter how evil I showed her I was. When we started officially dating, we would get coke, and find guys to come over from Craigslist. I had a lot of fun doing this although it felt as if she wasn’t totally into it, which bothered me a little, so I would try to get her to do more blow and drink more alcohol. Eventually, she made the decision we wouldn’t be having sex with other men because she loved me too much to share me.

At the time, like so many times before, I told myself I could be a “good boy” and only have sex with her; that only lasted a week, maybe two. It did not take long for her to catch me cheating when she found that I had met up with a few guys off of an ad online. There was no denying it and although I did not lie to her about what I did, I did pretend to be sorry. I had justified my cheating due to my anger at her betrayal. I felt like I was tricked into marrying her now that she would no longer let me have sex with men.

“Josh, she cheated you out of being who you really are. You cannot deny who you are, Josh. Josh, pay attention to me! Josh, it is only cheating if you are with a woman. With a woman, you are at risk of falling in love, but with a man, it is just sex, and she cannot give you what they can.” That inner voice started to taunt me again and would not shut up. I could never make ‘It’ shut up, unless I fed It. Not that I was ever satisfied but at least it left me alone for a little while.

As a child I always had these detailed visions, like movies, that would play in my mind. I never noticed them until after the first time those two guys took advantage of me. My mind started wondering was I really taken advantage of? Here I am always seeking the same experience I had on that stormy summer day in Oklahoma City. Of course, at 7 years old, I had no idea what I was doing or what was being done to me. But now, it is all I seek when hunting for sex, that is with the addition of a woman. Then again, if I am doing meth the whole woman thing becomes a moot point.

The visuals were movie-like and never made sense in the present as they always seemed to take place in the future, years down the road. While I desired to pursue what I saw, it never seemed to become reality until years after. These sex dreams triggered an obsessive need to have it now, and I did everything in my power to facilitate that. Why wait after all? The fun of seeing escorts, or massage girls, was that I could make what I was dreaming of happen much faster. Even though I had been arrested once with what I thought was a prostitute, I still used them when there was a particular fantasy I needed to make happen.

The visions swarmed through my mind with the anticipation of the meth hitting my veins; then recreating the sex scenes I had imagined became my top priority. Sex with my first wife was lame, but with my second wife, it was enjoyable at least… Well, it was fun when I could have other men involved or at the very least imagine a man with us. Without that stimulus, performing became impossible, which is always embarrassing. I just blamed being tired from work, avoiding the truth that I was not turned on by traditional lovemaking. What is love anyway?

I hated her for taking away sex exploration from me and now she is gone. I didn’t even try to stop her from leaving after she caught me cheating the second time. She caught me WHILE at my peak, high searching for other people to have sex with. I was so geeked out on crystal meth that I could not stop hunting for sex with strangers right in front of her. Her goodbye consisted of writing “whore”, “faggot” and all kinds of other awful names in lipstick on my personal bathroom mirror. She was a special person and one of the kindest, most beautiful souls I had ever met. I tried to warn her about me when we first dated but she did not listen. I showed her all sides of me, all but the one that would cause her the most pain. No one seemed to listen when I revealed who I really was. I guess they thought they could fix me but now they needed the fixing. She is gone now and now I can be me, I thought.

After the divorce was final, I ran into an ex while out and about with friends on Christmas Eve. It did not take long for that old connection between us to ignite. I always felt safe with her. Seeing her again that night reminded me of why I liked her so much when we dated before. I broke up with her back then saying I was not mentally fit to be in a relationship, only to then marry my second ex-wife.

Although I had no business being in a relationship, I needed her friendship because I had a greater need of wanting to stop hiding. I had always dreamed and prayed to God for a woman that I could just be me with. Since we had sex during our last relationship, being friends with benefits was an easy practice to fall into. There were no strings, and I felt safe being honest about the debauchery and drug-fueled sex parties I wanted to bring her into.

I was done hiding. I was convinced this time and was sure that God had brought her to me so I could finally be me.

I had cheated on every woman I had dated or been married to with men, women, and sometimes I was not quite sure which. I found refuge in her and she seemed to love my dark side, almost like she encouraged it. At least, she never told me no, never told me to stop, or that I was going too far. Because there were no boundaries, I kept pushing the limits of how high I could get and how much raunchy sex we could have together. Had she tried to stop me, I would have just cut her out of my life. My need for her felt like what I imagine a heroin addict must feel needing another fix, just so they do not feel sick. That became my dependency on her.

I was addicted to pleasure-seeking with her far more than I had ever been without her. She had become the object of all my fantasies. She helped me recreate my childhood nightmares in a way I felt safe, making what once brought me pain, was now pleasure.

So many people in the past put up boundaries with me but I always found ways to knock them down. Almost like it was a game; one I loved to play. She never tried to set boundaries with me and I was grateful for that because there was no time being wasted, we just went straight to the fun.

With her encouragement, and my growing desire to stop hiding, I became bolder in my pleasure-seeking. I knew I had something special with her early in our reconnection when I asked her what her fantasy was. She told me she always desired two men and that was my opening to be honest about what I wanted. It brought me great confidence when I wanted to push the envelope sexually and I had no more fear in expressing what I wanted. She did not bat an eye and one day, while high on meth, I texted her a video of what I was doing with “my friend” and she immediately came over.

Our bond felt unbreakable after that day, and I felt like God had answered my prayer and fulfilled the desire that I had always dreamed of. The scenario I hunted for, wished for… had finally come true. I found a woman I could love and share with other men.

Is this the love that I have been looking for?

Once I received my inheritance, a gram or two, became an 8 ball or two. Hooking up with a strange man became multiple men, multiple times a night and she was there with me each and every time.

Yes, this indeed was the love I had always looked for.

Next Episodic “Violated”

Waking up one morning to find both of my older sisters gone was the worst feeling in the world. Why did they leave? What did I do wrong? Why didn’t they love me? I thought. I had tried being a good brother. I know I could be a brat, but I loved them. I loved them so much, I wanted to be just like them, well other than being a girl.

My sisters were the coolest. From singing, and dancing on the back of chairs to Van Halen’s ‘Jump’ on Saturday mornings or riding 4 wheelers in the mountains in Red River, New Mexico, to going to Crystal’s Pizza to play games…the cool kids used to come over to see them; all I wanted was to be like them.

We were a big happy family, all of us together. Now my sisters are gone. What did I do?

Every night was either filled with night terrors or the torture of hearing my mom and dad fight. The nightmare was always the same. It was my family around the dinner table as men came in with shotguns; my dad’s head being blown off, my brother being stabbed, my sisters being raped, and me being forced to watch. What made it even worse was physically feeling this dream every time. This nightmare haunted me over and over…Why?

The nights I heard my father scream at my mother, including all the loud bangs, and the feeling that they would also leave me haunted me as much as the night terrors. Before I would fall asleep, I thought of my older sisters, now gone. I felt so unwanted, so unworthy of love, and the only thing that brought me any relief was feeling pain. I began cutting myself just enough to leave a mark but was too big of a wimp to go deeper. Seeing my own blood brought me comfort. The first time I heard ‘It’s’ voice, it told me “even though no one else loves you, I do and we will make them pay”.

I woke up one night to blood-curdling screams. I ran out of my room terrified. As I inched my way down the hall, the noise got louder. I heard my father screaming at my mother and her crying as a crackling sound roared loudly through my ears. I felt it in my spine, and I was horrified something awful had happened. I ran back to my room, crying, and hid my head under the covers. It was then I heard the Voice tell me “I will protect you. Do not worry”. I felt strangely comforted, yet I was still so scared. I did not understand what was going on.

The next morning, I walked out of my room to see my mother crying on her bed. It was clear what had caused the crackling noise; the bedpost was snapped in half. When my mother saw me, she tried to dry her eyes and told me everything was ok. I knew it wasn’t.

The neighborhood we lived in was close to school so there were lots of kids of all ages. Although I was the youngest, I was a bigger kid, so I always felt comfortable playing with the older kids. We played every kind of ball in our neighborhood. When we weren’t outside, we were at each other’s houses playing games, swimming, or creating some kind of mischief. The Goonies was a popular movie at the time, so pretend adventures became a way of life.

Summer days in Oklahoma averaged 90 degrees with a mosquito-loving humidity that made it insufferable at times. While storms were fun to watch, it was annoying because it ate into our summertime, free from school, forcing us to be inside. One day we attempted to play baseball out on the street with some of the older kids which abruptly ended when a storm blew in. Everyone bolted for their houses, except me. My parents were gone, and I was not done playing. The oldest boy of the group invited me and another guy over to his house to play video games. I was the last one to enter the garage as the door started to shut to keep the storm from blowing in. Once I was fully inside the garage, I saw the oldest staring at me, with a different kind of look on his face.

“Take off your pants,” he demanded. “What? Why?” I asked. “Take off your pants!” he repeated the command. Just then the other guy, behind me, grabbed the sides of my shorts pulling down my pants, and immediately put his finger inside me. The oldest boy pulled out his penis and said, “suck it”.

I had heard those exact words just a few days before at one of the other neighbors’ houses. We had just escaped another storm to watch TV, when one of the kids said, “Look what I found! I found one of my dad’s pornos!” as he put the tape in the VCR. I had seen my mother naked before but that didn’t prepare me for what I saw on that screen. Two older people, naked together, doing things I had never seen before. “Suck it” I heard from the TV and the sensations I felt between my legs was something I don’t ever remember feeling before, and I had to touch myself.

As the other kids were on the couch, I was sitting on the floor in front of the TV watching, mesmerized by the screen, and hypnotized by what I was seeing.

“What?” I asked again.

“Put your mouth on it. Now!” the oldest said as he grabbed my head and forced his penis into my mouth. He held my head there and pumped his hips at my face as I was being penetrated by the other guy from behind.

The pain shot through my spine and made my stomach hurt. What was happening? Moments later, I was covered in creamy sticky stuff, I was hurting, and I had no idea what just happened. I was in shock, and I was scared, still reeling from what happened.

I looked at the oldest in a stupor and he said “If you tell anyone about this, I will beat your ass. I will tell everyone that you are a faggot. Do you want that?”

I did not know what a faggot was, but it sounded scary, and I knew better than to say a word to anyone.

I went home afterward to see that my parents had made it home. I know I spoke briefly to them, although I have no idea what we spoke about. I went to my room, shut the door, laid in my bed, and went through my head thinking about what happened. Then I felt something familiar happening between my legs, and I began to rub myself vigorously. I had no idea what I was doing, but it felt good, and then the same creamy substance I saw on me earlier that day had come out of me. I was freaked out and felt dizzy, but a wave of euphoria also went through my entire body. What just happened? I got nervous immediately, felt fear, and ran into the bathroom across the hall to wash myself. In the bathroom, I did it again.

My pain went away every time I practiced this ritual.

As the weeks went on, I had a hard time being around the guys. I felt more and more awkward. They called me a faggot every so often, which ensured my silence while at the same time made me sad because all I wanted to do was fit in. They were my friends after all and although I did not understand what happened, I could not stop myself from thinking about it.

My dreams began to alternate between my family being murdered and men putting their penises in me. Even in my sleep, I felt the pain, and fear, rush through my body.

Why does this feel so good while it hurts me? Why does what hurts me feel good?

At 7 years old, I was obsessed with seeking pleasure in exchange for making my pain go away, in any way I could dream up.

Next Episodic “Drive”

My girlfriend picked me up from the airport, in Oklahoma City, after I flew in from Newport Beach. I was wasted on 8 vodkas…my dealer was not returning my texts and I needed to get a couple of 8 balls. “Where the heck is he?!?!?!?!?!”

Nothing made me more angry than not being able to score when I wanted to. My hormones were raging but nothing like I would feel when I got the 3rd line of cocaine in my system.

“Where is he? Where the f is he!?!?!?”

I was so preoccupied with trying to score coke, I barely paid attention to my girlfriend. We went to our regular spot, a bar in North Oklahoma City, to drink fireball, play ping pong, and of course to look for blow.

We always had fun at the Sip, the bar I drank at in high school. The Sip is where I used to go in my youth when I ventured out of the south side of Oklahoma City, sneaking up to hang out with the northsiders. Now that I lived in the area, as an adult, I went there 4 days a week. It did not matter if I was in mountain biking gear, a custom suit, workout clothes, or whatever; all were welcome in that bar. It is like they say in church, “come as you are” but this was a bar, and the patrons took that invitation literally.

The fact that there was a ping pong table in the middle of the bar was one thing but bathrooms that allowed multiple people to enter a single toilet room were another. If you wanted to do drugs in a bar, this was the safest place on earth to do it. It had always been the easiest place to score, but this night was different.

We never ended up getting cocaine that night. I was so drunk at that point, and I just wanted to go home because throwing up again was not the look I was going for. Doing cocaine just then would have been the last thing I could have mustered as my stomach felt like rotten root beer.

In my drunken stupor, I was still daydreaming about the fun I had had while I was away. The thought occurred to me that I should tell my girlfriend about the bathhouse in LA, the orgy in Newport Beach and that I wanted her to try tina… but I got scared; I did not want to ruin a good thing. In case she got mad at me, I chose to hide this part of my truth.

Instead, I told her how much I missed her, how much I loved her, and how much I masturbated thinking about her and all the fun we had together with other guys. That was my way of showing her I loved her. She was always good about sending me pictures expressing how much she missed me being between her legs. I also had hundreds of pictures and videos of her with me, and/or other guys. Images I used as bait on sex apps to attract the newest sex toy in human form.

When we got home, I tried to convince her that we needed a boyfriend. That might have been the drug residue talking, but I was not really sure. I was not attracted to men in a romantic way, but the sex was fun. When I was high, I became obsessed with anal play, with penis, and with having men come over to pleasure us, or me.

We argued a lot about who we brought into the bedroom. My preferred method was finding guys online or through sex apps. She wanted to meet someone more organically. She cared what they looked like and if they had a good personality. I just cared about what they looked like from the waist down…well, maybe from the chest down. It was when she made her argument that we should find one or two guys that we could see regularly that I came up with the idea that maybe we should just have a boyfriend. In all reality though, I liked the chase and random sex more.

Sex with random partners was playing Russian Roulette for sure, but it was also more exciting…to me.

Once she did enough cocaine and drank enough alcohol, she would relax her resolve and I would end up getting my way; I always got my way. On occasion, we would meet a really cool guy that I wouldn’t have minded having as a regular play toy but it would never last long. I think they would either get freaked out about the amount of drugs we were doing or they would figure out that we had enjoyed other men either before or after they had been with us and they wouldn’t come back. Sometimes they were secretly married but that was never fun to find out.

Look at me, with morals, ha!

For whatever reason, the ones we hit it off with the most never came back.

Honestly, that was ok with me. I never wanted anyone getting too close to me where they could potentially blow our cover or try to blackmail us.

She started to work for me, and it was her job to hold things down while I was away. I went away on business trips building our skincare business and I was cheating on her. Technically, it was “cheating”, but I never saw it that way. It was just sex with guys, lots of guys. It wasn’t like I was letting them have a piece of my heart or anything. It was just sex; at least that’s what I convinced myself.

I kept hearing the word “West” echo in my ears that night.

Before I passed out drunk, only hours after getting home from being gone for 2 weeks, I said to her, “I have to get the F out of here.”

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“West! I think I will go to Denver and decide from there. I feel like I just need to go so I can think of a way we can grow our company and it will be good for me to drive for a while.”

The next morning, I packed my brand new $105,000 BMW X5 M ultra-souped-up automobile with custom suits and workout clothes. I kissed her and my English Bulldog goodbye and headed ‘West’.

The drive was beautiful and peaceful, although the one thing I was not prepared for was a Spring blizzard. As I arrived in Denver, a blizzard had shut down most of the main roads, however, I still managed to make it to dinner with my friend and his wife who had started distributing our skincare line in Nicaragua and Colorado. The next day the blizzard became more intense, so I decided to head to Las Vegas to see my friends, who sold their pizza dough distributorship for a billion dollars and stay at their home for a few days.

Getting to Las Vegas was a shock to my system going from a blizzard to over 90 degrees. By the time I showed up at my friends’ insanely beautiful home, I had it all to myself. I went out to their pool to get some sun and smoke; the new Sativa I picked up on the drive.

I am not sure if it was the incredible high or if it was the power of the sunshine, but I started to see flashes of the life I had been living. Money was escaping me like I had a plague and I envisioned my future reality. Not liking what I saw, I walked back into the house, grabbed a bottle of Tequila, a cup of ice, then went back to where I was sitting at the pool. I could not drink away the concern fast enough.

The next morning, I woke up with a weighted blanket of guilt and shame. What am I doing? I have to stop this. I need to leave here. I am alone and all I want to do is fill this void with my normal prescription of coke, meth, and sex. I could not do that there though, they had cameras everywhere. I could, however, take an Uber to a bathhouse, I thought to myself.

No, I have to stop this!

No more, I told myself, as I had so many times before, but I meant it that time.

I sent my girlfriend a message to tell her I missed her and that I planned to leave for LA in a few days. I also shared with her my conviction about taking a break from drinking and partying. I told her; it was time. I was exhausted and I knew that I could not make enough money to keep up with that lifestyle. I had no idea how she felt about all of that, but I knew keeping up with the double life was hard enough. In order to have the life I wanted, I needed to stop partying and get my mind right.

My obsession with sex and drugs consumed me all day, every day, up to that point. Even when I was not partying, I was plotting the next sexual adventure with men from sex apps and kinky online sites.

I spent the next week detoxing; white-knuckling life as I did everything I could to stop compulsively thinking about drugs, sex, and the freaking financial mess I was in.

I started to feel flaming good, again.

Not good like I felt when I was high, but I began feeling normal and started paying attention to the Charles Stanley devotionals my mom sent me nearly every day. I never really understood Pastor Charles Stanley’s messages until I began to actually read them sober.

I started to feel lighter, not so weighted down by my life, and I began to believe that maybe I was not bisexual. Maybe I could be normal after all. I felt inspired to turn my company around and become who I was created to be. I knew I had a hot-selling skincare product, and I was determined to make some killer deals happen in LA… determined to make my dreams come true in the process. I packed up my car again and headed west to the City of Angels.

LA here I come, baby!

Next Episodic “Surprise”

“Why is she texting again?”

“You need to take a paternity test.”

“What the F are you talking about? Go Fuck Yourself. That isn’t my kid.”

My heart was beating damn near out of my chest.

I never wanted kids. I had zero desire to be a father. I couldn’t stand being around annoying little kids and I sure as hell did not want to sacrifice any of my own time for a child. I wanted to travel the world and help people. That is all I ever wanted to do with my life. After being molested I got my first vision of a possible future, but I didn’t understand what it was then. Seemingly every time something bad happened to me, I would see a movie in my mind about this fantasy life I was living that looked and felt incredible.

I wanted the life I kept envisioning, but I doubted it would ever happen. Instead, I was working with complex disabilities and sold power wheelchairs and other medical devices. How would I get to travel the world doing that?

Whenever people asked me what I really wanted to do with my life I would always say, “have a talk show, travel the world, and help people.” It was the only thing that brought me joy to think about, other than when we would do ecstasy and go to after-hours parties after leaving South Beach or Club Space.

Don’t get me wrong, going to college in Hawaii was amazing, but nothing beat South Florida to me. I loved Boca Raton and I loved my group of friends there. To say they were characters is an understatement. Just their nicknames alone were something straight out of a movie, but they were real. Those friends were the first people to ever make me feel like I was normal…like I belonged. I guess I was popular in high school, whatever that means, yet I was not really a part of any of the groups. Although I could hang out with almost anyone, I usually isolated my connections down to one person I would mainly hang out with.

Even back then I never felt “normal” unless I was drunk. My first year in college cheerleading was when I did the first substantial amount of mind-altering drugs. It was at a collegiate cheerleading competition in Daytona Beach (Florida). Some of the members of the squad had gone to college in Boca Raton, to cheer for Florida Atlantic University. When they joined our team in Oklahoma City, they told tales of this legendary place in South Florida. Before I ever wound up there, I had heard so many stories about those people with the crazy nicknames, about the fun in the sun, and about this amazing little drug called ecstasy.

By the time we got to the competition I had already prepaid for my drugs and I could not wait to try that mysterious feel-good pill. Because of the Florida-Oklahoma connection, Okies immediately had a network of friends within the Boca crew. Meeting them was like meeting a family you never knew you had. Fast forward to the end of the cheerleading competition…Senor Frogs’ sugary death in a bottle, and my very first hit of ecstasy.

It took approximately 30 minutes for my entire world to change.

I felt joy for the first time that I could remember in my life. I felt like I knew who I really was, I felt alive, I felt love, and I was comfortable, maybe for the first time ever, allowing myself to actually feel anything…everything. This also meant facing the part of me that could never fully come out. For years I had suffered from the night terrors; those images of the times men had forcefully penetrated me, anally or orally. In the past, when I had gotten really drunk, or if I did a little bit of cocaine, I tried to test myself with men, but I always freaked out. I was too scared of someone finding out.

The sexual energy at a college cheerleading camp was insane, and now with ecstasy…I was feeling the exchange of that energy, with both women AND men.

I loved it; I wasn’t scared. The comedown from ecstasy was awful because I never wanted it to end. After that first time whenever I heard “Try this. It will bring your roll back” I was more than willing to experiment and try new things.

That first night, I did several more tabs of ecstasy, ketamine, cocaine, GHB ( Gamma Hydroxybutyrate) , and weed.

I found my stride. On my recruiting trip to Florida Atlantic University (FAU), I even earned the nickname CHUG.

I loved Boca Raton, however, when the coach told me I should make a videotape to send to Hawaii Pacific (because he accepted a coaching job), I did. They gave me the news over the phone that I received a full scholarship, as I watched a tornado hit my house; it was May 3, 1999. I stayed in Hawaii for only a year before moving to Florida after landing a great job working for a Pharmacy & Surgical Supply company. I worked under the most ferociously amazing woman from New York. Jet black hair, bright blue eyes, and she might as well have been 10 ft tall because she was just on another level.

She scared me because she was not afraid of me. She had the ability to see right through my BS and while she gave me a lot of rope, she rode my ass and I loved her for it. Other than my mother, I had never met another woman I respected more. Although I was on scholarship at FAU, I preferred to work and party, so I rarely ever went to class. I loved my job and I loved that I made good enough money to afford drugs. I went out almost every night and on weekends it was cocaine and/or ecstasy. When high, I was getting more daring exploring my sexuality, cruising online chat rooms, sex classifieds, and swinger websites.

The year I lived in Hawaii, I had discovered a different sort of porn theatre (with booths), while I explored the streets of Waikiki, high on ecstasy. A habit that picked up steam after that famous weekend in Daytona. Those booths had holes in them. Holes that penises or another body part could be put in front of. There were people at those theatres who would freely whip out a part of their body they wanted pleasured. Walking the streets of Waikiki is also where I ended up discovering a strange interest in transexuals, or mahoo’s, as they are called in Hawaii.

Before I knew I was into them, I was dancing with what I thought were hot Asian girls with nice breasts. I did not know I was actually dancing with men. My friends were laughing at me and tried to warn me. I didn’t believe them until I reached between one of their legs and felt a bulge. What I didn’t expect was the arousal I got between my own legs from the experience. I became obsessed with people who looked like beautiful models with nice boobs and just so happen to also have a penis.

My growing desires manifested an occurrence in Honolulu while walking home from the sex store at 4 am. A woman pulled up beside me and asked me to get in. I got into her car, and we parked outside of my apartment, off the Ala Wai Canal. She was insistent on pleasuring me. Initially, she resisted me trying to finger her for a while until she finally gave in only to reveal a giant penis. She was embarrassed but I immediately went down on her right there in the parking lot. When she had finished, I was lost to my new obsession. I had always been a ‘boob guy’ but as I got more comfortable with exploring my sexuality, I became obsessed with penises too. I was not attracted to men but there was something about a penis that ignited something within me…the same way boobs did…and now to find women with both, It became something I hunted for often.

I discovered as I explored with more transexuals in Florida that not all of them are hot. My poor luck in finding ones that looked like beautiful women (with the exception of having a penis) may have slightly loosened the grip of my obsession but it also caused my insatiable lust to be stored away as I imagine Loch Ness Monster chasers must feel when it comes to finding their own rare treasure.

One day I stopped by a random sex store I had found on the side of the road. Sex was always on my mind. Finding different easy ways to get off now became an obsession. I walked into the theatre to see multiple couples, male on male, male on female, circle jerks, and more, all at this little theatre in Lake Worth, Florida. I was sober at the time, and it was a bit overwhelming to see all of that up close so I went to a booth to watch porn and masturbate.

Within two minutes some guy was on his knees with his best effort giving me oral sex. I came within five minutes, and he acted like he had not eaten in months. After he picked himself off the floor, he put $100 dollars in my shirt and said, “Meet me outside.” I met him outside and he invited me to come to his home after he got back from the summer Olympics in Sydney, Australia.

I began seeing him the day he got back. Every time I saw him, he paid me $200 dollars for him to give me oral sex. I started seeing him multiple times a week. I loved the extra cash that allowed me to spoil my girlfriend, but it also helped me buy more drugs. Little by little this man would expand and advance what he did to me sexually. While I was uncomfortable, I loved the money. At my request, he always had bi porn on, so I could see boobs, and feel less gay. Each time after he made me cum, he would want pillow talk. I hated it at first. Eventually, I got more comfortable with it and even began to feel safe…so even further we went.

He became the first man I allowed to anally penetrate me. As time went on, he started having other men come by when I was there too. Now, on a regular basis, I was reenacting the very way I had been molested, and I started to love it.

As I got more comfortable having sex with men, I then became obsessed with doing porn. Being in Florida made it so easy to do. I was picked up by a filmmaker one day in Hawaii and he asked me to audition for one of his movies. That audition consisted of me blowing him, but it didn’t get me a part in any of his films.

Back in Florida, I booked three different porn shoots within a month. I would have kept going too except one day I got an anonymous email with a still photo from my porn shoot. In my paranoia, I immediately quit trying to do porn. When the guy I was seeing found out that I no longer wanted those images of me out there, he paid off the owner of the websites and they took everything down.

I felt so guilty over doing porn I finally told my girlfriend I was bisexual. Her response was awful. I tried to lie and said I only did it for the money. While I think she eventually believed me, our relationship was ruined. I spent a lot of energy trying to convince her I was not bisexual but then my disappearing acts became more difficult when I was trying to see my John. I needed to keep up with this lifestyle. I loved the money and gifts I was getting and quite frankly I enjoyed myself, so I was not going to quit seeing him, even if I got caught.

With each passing week, my hunger for drugs grew and the habit of sneaking off for sex with others consumed most of my time. Work mattered less and less; partying mattered more and more.

“You need to take a paternity test!”

“Yeah, I will take that test just to shut you up. That kid is not mine.”

My mind raced back to my going away party for Hawaii. A drunken night with my closest friends and the woman I was about to have the best sex of my life with. She was a backup singer in my dad’s reunion tour band, and I just banged her. The memories of her trying to get me to stay home instead of moving to Hawaii circulated through my brain as I was trying to remember if I used a condom or not.

Who was I kidding? Of course, I did not use a condom. Now I have this woman telling me I have a 3-year-old. Lol, yeah right, she can go F herself.

Next Episodic “LaLaLand”

I had been to California so many times in the last year that I had established enough friendships and business relationships to feel comfortable there, but this was different. Pulling around those mountains to merge onto the 405 sent a surge of energy through my spine. I had been sober for several days, other than weed that is, but I don’t really count that as a drug…at least there had been no meth or blow. I was motivated, pumped up, and ready to take on the world.

After stopping for gas, I programmed my GPS to take me to Equinox, to work out. As soon as I walked through those doors, I felt like I had entered a brand new world. The energy of that place was THE drug. I can do this, I thought. This is the life I wanted, to be surrounded by THIS energy all the time. I felt alive and I wanted more. I had the best workout that day. I am not sure if it was the pre-workout hitting me in some kind of way or if being surrounded by celebrities, supermodels and the most beautiful people on the planet had something to do with it.

While doing abs Fabio came over and asked me if he could jump in and do a few sets. I started laughing to myself because there I was working out with the dude, I grew up seeing on the cover of every romance novel known to man and now he was asking me questions. What a trip! “I am from Oklahoma City,” I told him. His response caught me off guard. “I went to Norman once. The women are big there” he said. I almost told Fabio to go fuck himself. He had to be crazy; then again, he was probably used to cocaine skinny models. At least he wasn’t making fun of me, so I let it go. Although our conversation was brief, I felt a strange sense of pride wash over me. I started to believe I could actually make it there.

A long hot shower felt good, but afterward I felt intimidated because 90 percent of the men in the locker room looked like they just walked out of a magazine cover. I was feeling really self-conscious about my own body but I was also triggered and immediately started craving drugs. I was not aroused but a blood lust for drugs hit me in that instant. Of course, I knew what that meant. I ignored it the best I could, tried distracting myself, and left the gym as quickly as possible.

As soon as I walked out the door, feeling the heat of the sun, hot on my face, felt like heaven. Around 4 pm California time, I called my girlfriend and told her I was staying in California. I was home, I knew it. I knew I belonged here, and I was going to make a life for myself here. I told her if she wanted to join me, she should sell everything in the house and come.

Although she had her own house, I used some inheritance money, after my father’s death, to get a big place for us to share. Later, I invited my best friend and his girlfriend to move in with us. I was so caught up in my own plans, I didn’t even have the courage to tell my friend. I made her be the one to let them know they had to go. When she told me she was down to move, I was so excited about the new life we were going to have in Los Angeles. It was a dream come true.

LA made so much more sense for me to build a skincare business anyway, and the weather was AMAZING! I went to the apartment I had rented on Airbnb and began searching for other options to stay at until she arrived. I found a house in the Hollywood Hills with a killer view. Although it was a little pricey for a room to rent, I justified it by telling myself “you are not doing drugs or drinking, you deserve a nice place to stay” and booked the room.

I had another week before I could move in, but I was excited, motivated, and started to feel good about life again. It did not take long for me to start creating momentum. In a matter of days, I made a few big sales and locked in some new large volume accounts. Halfway through the week, I had been invited to a few red-carpet-style events. I fell into an opportunity to sponsor the ESPY awards with my skincare line. The momentum could not have picked up any faster. I was more certain than ever I would make my dreams come true in this magical city and nothing or no one would get in my way.

Driving up to the Hills in West Hollywood for the first time was a horrifying experience. There were no lanes, a million blind spots, and besides dodging cars coming down the hill, I almost died running into a parked dump truck trying to enjoy what I could see of the view. When I first saw the house, I was shocked at how small it looked from the front. I ran up to the door and as I got closer the door opened to a very nice gentleman who welcomed me warmly. Once the door was open, I was in absolute awe. Where did all this house come from? I thought. From the front, it looked like a modest 1,200 square foot home. From the inside, it appeared to be a mega-mansion. It was gorgeous. The view of the city, from the balconies, was unlike anything I had ever seen.

The nice gentleman who welcomed me also owned the house. He told me he was rarely home, but he did have another person renting his guest house who came into the main house every once in a while. It did not take long for me to meet the person renting the guest house. We hit it off immediately. I found him fascinating because of his background in banking (in England), and now working in the entertainment industry. After getting to know him a bit, I gave him a bottle of my skincare line to try out, with hopes of him giving it to his friends in the industry.

As the weekend approached, with my feelings about life greatly improved, my mind started to wander with thoughts about this guy being the perfect partner for my girlfriend and me. This is what she wanted right? A cool, normal, guy who was intelligent, good-looking, and would be into both of us?

I did not know his sexuality, but I felt a vibe. Was that vibe for me, was it chemistry? What was this? Why do I see this guy as someone who I can be friends with but also be attracted to? I had not been attracted to many sober guys, so this was new for me. The next time I ran into him he was getting some stuff out of the fridge, and we engaged in conversation. Maybe he IS flirting with me? My mind began to see images of my girlfriend and him pleasuring me, her, us pleasing each other.

Like a shot of adrenaline, I felt it come alive inside me. I knew what this meant and in what felt like an out-of-body experience, I asked him if he ever played with couples.

“You mean like 2 guys?”

“Oh, so you are gay? I did not know, but I actually meant a guy and a girl couple.”

“Yeah, that can be hot, but I prefer men.”

“Yeah, that’s fun too. Do you ever party and play?” I asked.

“Yeah sometimes, when I do not have to work.”

“We should do that sometime,” I said.

Friday finally arrived and by 11 am I was already starting to get amped up for debauchery, yet I fought myself because I had been sober for weeks now and was doing amazing. Business was good and I felt great, but I deserve to have some fun, right?

I went to my favorite bar on Sunset Boulevard, the Saddleback Ranch, and had a few tequilas and a small bite to eat in an attempt to keep me from getting drunk too fast. Maybe a little blow won’t hurt, I thought to myself and sent the housemate a message. He said it took a day to get but he would have some for me Saturday. I was bummed and ended up heading home before I got out of control drunk. The anticipation was killing me because it had felt like ages since I partied.

As Saturday rolled around, the housemate started messaging me every hour to update me about progress. With each text, my heart jumped out of my chest in anticipation of what may come of the night. Finally, the one I had been waiting on.

Cutting up that first line made me nervous. I felt expectations on me. With each line that I did, the hornier and more uncomfortable I got because the housemate may have been more ramped up than I was. I had a routine I liked to stick to when I did drugs. My ritual made me feel safe and allowed me to enjoy myself. That was all out of whack now and I began to feel tremendous anxiety.

“Do you have any porn down here?” I asked as we walked down the stairs, on the outside of the main house, to his guest home.

“No, but you can use your iPad or laptop for some.”

I told him I would be right back so I could grab it and ran upstairs to catch my composure. Porn always helped me get comfortable and prepared me for debauchery, so getting my laptop was a must. I got on my computer and fired up MMF porn to get more excited about playing with him because at that moment I really was not into it. I was nervous like it was my first time, or was it guilt I felt? As each scene played out my bulge began to grow and the more aroused, I got.

“Where are you?” he texted.

“I will be right down.”

Right then my phone rang, and it was a video call from my girlfriend.

Nervously, I answered, “Hi babe! How are you?”

“I am good. I have not heard from you so I thought I would call and say hi. I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

Knock Knock…

The housemate knocked at my bedroom door and as he opened the door, my girlfriend asked, “Who is that?”

“No one babe, it is just the guy who lives in the guest house.”

“What does he want?”

Stammering now as the cocaine started to really kick in, I had glanced at the door and tried to shoo him away.

“Are you doing cocaine?”

“No babe no. Not at all. I am still sober. I promise you.”

“What is that hanging out of your nose?”

“Nothing, what are you talking about?” Knowing full well that I had a rock in my nose, I could feel it.

“Tell me what is going on now!” She demanded.

“Josh, are we doing this or not? Hurry up” the housemate said…not helping my situation at all.

“Josh, FUCK YOU, you fucking cheater. We are done. Have a nice life!” and she disconnected the call.

Normally I would have called back a hundred times but now the houseguest was fully in my room bringing me a fat line to do. I was still so nervous, especially knowing that I had been caught cheating or at least the girlfriend thinks I am cheating. Line after line and with every penetration I saw on the screen, the more ramped up I got.

Now fully geeking out on blow, I got completely undressed and allowed all of my worries to drift away as the cocaine took over my system.

Over the course of the next few days, the housemate and I hooked up more. With each time I felt closer to him. In between sessions, I tried calling my girlfriend, but she would not answer. As I got further into the week, I started to feel guilty for what I had done. A sudden phone call from my girlfriend shocked me especially when she said “I believe you, but I want you to leave that house. I am on my way there, but I want you to find a new place to stay.”

I felt so much relief to have her back, but I was also sad to leave. I loved the house, of course, and I had made a real friend too, but I messed things up by having sex with him. Had I waited, I may have had the perfect situation. Like everything else I did, I wrecked it. My guilt drove me to sobriety again and I found a new place to stay for the next few weeks until my girlfriend arrived.

Although I left Hollywood Hills, I found myself in Beverly Hills at the guest house of an international celebrity, and with that meeting, my life in LA changed forever. Maybe God had a plan for me after all.

Next Episodic “HIV”

“Josh, you have tested positive for HIV. I know this must be difficult to hear. HIV is not a death sentence.”

I wish they would shut up. Of course, it’s a death sentence. My life is over. I deserve this and I deserve to die with it.

“The medication is very effective now and you could be undetectable within a year if you take your medication as required and live a healthy lifestyle.”

How quickly can I get out of here? When will this end? I do not need to hear all this again. I know all the crap they have to say and none of it matters. I pissed my life away and now I am going to go out with a bang… like all my favorite rock stars.

“You will need to start your medications as soon as possible. Please take these pamphlets. It will provide you with the information you will need for counseling services, drug treatment programs, what to expect with medications, and other resources that you may find beneficial. The hospital has peer support groups if you need that also.”

Hang out with other people with HIV? Yeah, right. Fuck this. I just need to get out of here; I need to get high. How drunk can I get? Oh my God, I just want to ram my head into the wall. What will my family think? I do not want to tell my dad. He is dying and this is the last thing he needs to hear. How could I ever tell him how I got it? Oh God, what will I say to my mother? Now I really cannot hide that I am bisexual. Who did I get this from?

Oh God, was it that guy from Adam4Adam? I swear I did not remember seeing he was HIV positive, until after we hooked up. He did NOT tell me when I was there. I swear I did not remember seeing it on his profile until I tried to message him looking for more crystal, a few days after we hooked up. He didn’t deny it when I asked him about it. He said that he had told me he had HIV and was undetectable. Can I get HIV if someone is undetectable? Why does it feel like I got it from him…but it could have been anyone?

I never used condoms so it could have been ANYONE. What am I going to do? If I kill myself, it will rip my mom’s heart out. Maybe I can just die parting? No one would have to know I have HIV, but people do know I use drugs, maybe that is the best way?

“Sir, do you have any questions?”

I left the doctor’s office abruptly, determined to erase all of this from my memory. I deserve this and everything bad that is going to happen, I thought to myself. What is the quickest way to die? I went home, poured a glass of Tequila, and called my dealer.

I cut the fattest line of cocaine I had ever done…and then another. Minutes later I was high, but not enough; I needed more. I did not have a meth dealer, but I knew how to get free crystal on the gay sex apps. The cocaine made me horny, but it was not erasing my mind, so I got back on the sex apps hunting for PNP (party ’n’ play), hoping to make this all go away.

Line after line of cocaine, the reality of my HIV diagnosis only became more clear and I could not find a hookup buddy for meth soon enough.

“What are you into?” he said.

Looking at PnP, love MMF, MM, group. Into everything really, when I am high.

“Bareback or condom?

Are you clean? I asked, out of habit but not really caring.

“Yes. Are you?”

My heart dropped in my stomach. Yeah, of course, I said, lying my soul away even more.

I had never been more nervous in my life. I knew now I was going to hell, there was no more doubt… I did not care anymore. I wanted to die and if it takes getting penetrated by a stranger to get high and make this go away, so be it.

Bowl after bowl, I smoked, stalling as much as possible. Masturbating next to him, but not letting him touch me. I told him I wasn’t high enough yet. The crystal finally began to hit me. I began to give him oral sex, but I got sick and ran to the bathroom to throw up. Instead of sobering up, I felt more high and even more sensitive to touch, all over. As geeked out horny as I was, even after throwing up, I asked him to leave. I gave him money for the drugs we used and bought the remainder he had with him.

After my stomach settled, my high got more intense and I became captivated with the porn on the TV screen. Masturbation was not going to do it. My sex demon had to be fed. There was no silencing the maddening screams in my brain while my hypersexed desires grew bolder.

I have to say I have HIV on here, right? Like, I have to tell them I have HIV?

I frantically searched the apps for anyone that showed any signs they may be into guys with HIV. I had heard about those looking for raw fun with HIV-positive partners…they were called poz chasers, or something like that.

I saw a few profiles that said they were on PREP. Although I had never heard of it, I wanted to see if this is what I was looking for, so I Googled it. Reading that it prevented others from getting HIV, I took that as my sign I could have sex. The guy who arrived was also tweaking and asked me if I slammed. Slammed…what the hell is that? After he explained it, I was scared but all I could do was to ask, “is the needle new?” He said yes and got me set up for my very first injection of meth. Slamming tina…the very thing that I had judged my daughter’s mom for, and there I was about to do it myself. That, and about to have sex with God knows how many random strangers.

There is no going back now, I am ready to go until I die.

Within seconds of the demon juice entering my veins, I knew whatever sanity I had left was gone. I couldn’t reenact what was happening on that porn fast enough. My vision hyper-focused on the POV penetration happening on the screen; this one guy was not enough, I needed more. As he penetrated me, I was on apps searching for more guys. Only glancing up occasionally to see what was happening on the porn, or to take a hit of poppers.

Multiple guys and one married couple came over that night and we went into the early hours of the morning. Bowl after bowl of meth was smoked. My mouth was chewed rotten; my tongue cut up from biting it so much, I could no longer swallow. I started fading in and out like the light switch was flicking on and off.

What have I done with my life?

As I started fading into a slow miserable death, watching my house guests leave, I was praying my mother would never see me like this when they found my body. I knew I was going to die. I knew this was it, my life was over. I cried out to God, “Please God, please do not let my mother find me like this!”

I woke up the next day, feeling like a decaying carcass. How didn’t I die last night? I needed to get up. I couldn’t move, my body was too weak. My heart started beating out of my chest, but I was frozen. My legs were not doing what I was telling them to. I started to panic. I thought for sure I was going to die the night before…but this was worse than death.

I called 911 and asked them to send someone to my place immediately. I was scared to tell them I had been using meth for over 24 hours. I was scared to say I had HIV. I was scared I might be dead before anyone arrived. I was scared. I am not who everyone thinks I am. I am sure not the kid my mother used to be proud of. Was she ever really proud of me? She doesn’t even know me, I don’t even know me, no one knows me.

The ambulance arrived and took me to the hospital. I was certain I was dying this time as I drifted out again. When I woke up, I had all kinds of tubes and wires hooked up to me. While I felt groggy, I was able to move. When the doctor came in, I was told that I had dehydrated my body severely from the drug use and put myself in serious danger. Worse yet, they told me I could go home shortly after I finished the IV fluids.

God, what am I going to do? I cannot go on like this. I cannot live like this anymore or I will die. I cannot go out like this, God.

I started thinking about my oldest daughter, and the twins.

God, I cannot let people be right about me. I have to change this. I do not want my kids to find out I died a junkie. I must do better. Help me!

The next few days were hell, emotionally. After the third day, I started to come around, mentally.

I can be a better man; I can turn this around. As I started to feel more normal, I knew I needed to tell my mother about having HIV. I was terrified of what she would say, and I did not want to answer questions about my sexuality. I called a doctor friend of mine first and told him about my news; his reaction gave me peace.

“It is not a death sentence. In fact, you will probably die of another STD or disease before you die of HIV”.

“Gee, thanks, bro,” I replied.

Later, I mustered up the courage to tell my mother. To my surprise, she was kind, loving, and more supportive than I could have ever asked for her to be. She did have a few questions which I answered as truthfully as I felt led to…and that was about 80 percent honest. For the next few months, I cleaned up my act, stopped drinking, stopped doing drugs, and started getting stronger mentally and physically.

Going back to the doctor months later for a follow-up test to see where my HIV load was at, I discovered that my new healthy lifestyle was paying off as I was now undetectable. Now knowing that I could not give HIV to anyone else, I felt free again. I felt as if I had beaten HIV. I was on top of the world and finally feeling myself again.

I went home after sharing the good news with my family and then out of nowhere…that old familiar voice…

“Josh, you are clean now. Let’s go have some fun.”

I tried to shut ‘It’ up. The more I tried to distract myself, there ‘It’ was, replaying all my old favorite images in my mind; visions of all the fun we had together. Just then I got a text from a number that looked familiar, but I was not sure who it was. As soon as I opened up the text it was a pic of his penis and in the message, it said, “I got some new fire, wanna play?”

Without a second thought, I answered, Yes. Are you hosting or do you want to come here?

“Come here, I am with some buddies you will like.”

Have enough for me to buy also? I asked.

“Yup, come over.”

The excitement raced throughout my entire body and nearly had me shaking in anticipation. It had been so long since I last got high. I could not wait a moment longer to feel the rush hit me as I took that first hit in months.

I took an extra HIV pill thinking it may help, packed up my sex bag with lube, dildos, poppers, penis rings, and I sped over to get my fix.

Next Episodic “Cheater”

I loved her…or maybe it was that I respected her. From the moment I met her, I knew she was out of my league, and I could not figure out why she wanted to hang out with me. I was a sophomore, cheating my way through every class just to pass, sometimes with my teacher’s help. She was the All-American girl, earning A’s in all her AP classes as she prepared to head off to college to be a doctor.

Why was she into me? What an odd feeling to respect someone so much, to be in a relationship with them, and yet never feel worthy to be in their presence. For almost two and half years, that was what I felt every single day with her.

She made me wait for over a year to have sex with her. It was absolute torture especially because we would play the silly game of allowing ‘just the tip’ in yet she insisted on making me wait to experience all of her. My respect for her was the only reason I could explore patience. The day she left for Spring Break in Cancun, Mexico the crushing weight of knowing my gorgeous girlfriend would be getting drunk, surrounded by hot guys, triggered every worthless feeling I had ever had about myself.

Every day she was away, I was damn near desperate for her calls. I was burning on the inside, being consumed by excruciating pain as each hour passed as I waited for her call. The phone call I received three days later caught me off guard. I had gone to a party that night, got wasted on Mad Dog 20/20, and in my drunken stupor I released all my fear and insecurity by way of spewing accusations about her cheating. I really did not know if she was cheating or not, but my brain had painted vivid images of her being drunk and tag teamed by guys she met in Mexico.

I know I hurt her with my accusations, but I desperately needed to know the truth. When she arrived home from her trip we met up and I apologized for my accusations although I still felt sick as if something had happened. She told me after I was done crying through my apologies (my vulnerability fully exposed) that one guy had made a pass at her. She was drunk and he kissed her but she claimed: “nothing else happened”. My lack of worthiness flared up and I desperately needed to make this pain stop.

I broke up with her either out of anger or out of sadness, I am not sure which. Either way, I ended our relationship and later that night I went to another party. Newly single, I was searching for any way to distract myself from the feelings of betrayal and loss. The tipsier I got, the more confident I got talking with girls at the party. A senior who was at the party came up to me and started talking to me. I did not really know anything about her other than my girlfriend did not like her, so I felt compelled to find out why.

“She is jealous of me,” the girl told me, mentioning stories about cheerleading practice and ex-boyfriends. This gave me the cue to exclaim “I dumped her”. A few more drinks in, she and I were making out in the parent’s room of the person hosting that underage drunk fest. The next morning, I heard from my ex-girlfriend. She was livid having heard about my make-out session with someone she despised. Then she had the audacity to accuse me of cheating.

“Um, we broke up,” I said.

She responded with “It was not real, I know you love me, so this is cheating! You cheated!”

At that moment, I begged for her to take me back. She did, but our relationship was never the same. I still felt betrayed by her, plus I had tasted others’ flesh…and I liked it! I had told her that she was my first sexual experience, but that was not true. While I never considered being molested by those guys, or by my female babysitter, as sexual experiences, I had already had sex with the 21-year-old beer cart girl on the days leading up to my 14th birthday. I will never forget her smoking a bowl of pot as she instructed me on how to perform oral sex on her.

The two-year dry spell before I had sex again convinced me it was ok to pretend to be a virgin. After me and Miss All American broke up, the sex demon inside of me grew hungrier. I started having sex with as many girls as I could, from any school around. Every party I went to provided the next sexual conquest and the competition I had with my friends did not help ease the drive I had to spray my seed all over America.

College provided even more opportunities. Being an athlete nearly guaranteed sex EVERY time I went out. On the rare occasion that I actually enjoyed having sex with someone, it gave me the delusion of falling in love. However, it was never strong enough to keep me from cheating when I had the chance. I never thought anything of it; “It was just sex”, I told myself.

It was while I was in college that I really had opportunities to find the pleasures I desired because internet chat rooms became popular and introduced me to people who had similar curiosities as mine. Every once in a while I would hang out in bisexual chat rooms. Even though the experiences weren’t really enjoyable, my curiosity overwhelmed me. I started meeting people offline, but it was usually a man and woman couple, or just a woman at first, as I was still too scared of exploring what was lurking deep within my mind.

After getting hurt playing football, I got involved in cheerleading. This exposed me to drugs in a new way. In Oklahoma, drugs were not super easy to find in those days. As I got more involved in the club scene, my access to drugs opened up, introducing me to cocaine, and eventually ecstasy. The very first time doing blow, I found myself on chat rooms seeking men. It happened almost instinctively yet felt like an out-of-body experience. I was so nervous about going to these guys’ homes to hook up on the rare occasion I found cocaine, but I had an itch that needed to be scratched now and that was the only way to relieve it.

More and more often I would go in the chat rooms sober looking for drugs because there was just something about doing cocaine and having sex that was more fun than regular sober sex. I was only 18–19 years old so the only bars I could get into were the ones I knew the owner or had friends who could get me in. I never liked clubs or even crowds, but after a few vodkas on the rocks, then blow up my nose, I became the life of the party. As the man of the hour, I was exposed to after-hours clubs and group sex. The only issue with that was when I was high, my bisexual side came roaring out, usually to the discomfort of the other people in attendance.

All through college, with every relationship I got myself into, I cheated. I could not help myself and I had convinced myself that being with a man was not cheating. When I would cheat with a woman, I would rationalize it by telling whoever my girlfriend was at that time “we broke up, I was hurt, and I made a mistake.” Of course, I orchestrated these fights so I could get the freedom to disappear for a day or two allowing me to cheat until satisfied.

I married my first wife because I had found out I had a 3-year-old daughter. I thought by doing so might make me a better dad, or even a better person. Leading up to our marriage, I was cheating on her weekly with massage girls, hookers, and occasionally men. On the night of our wedding reception, I got wasted and spent more time hitting on the bartender who I secretly hoped I could sneak off with sometime. I was not even sure if he was gay, but I tried anyway. On the way home that night, she was angry with me because I had disappeared for most of the night. For some reason, I got the courage to tell her that I had hooked up with guys before.

I hadn’t even told her the whole truth, but her response was, “I wish you had told me that before we got married then I would have had a chance to back out of this.” She was furious, rightfully so, and the desire of ever telling the truth about my sexuality immediately vanished. I swore up and down it had been a phase, a “drunk thing”, but that of course was a lie. A phase is a few weeks or months, not years.

When she was pregnant with our twins, I got arrested with what I thought was a prostitute, at a hotel by the airport in Oklahoma City. Having the door kicked in and surrounded by those cops with guns pointed at me was one thing but being listed on John.TV and having a link to our home address with my name in the paper was another. It was humiliating beyond belief.

I got so much pressure from her family to admit to being a sex addict, so to shut them up I decided to go to SA meetings. After attending a few meetings, the pressure to get a sponsor was pressed upon me. My first attempt led to me being fondled by one of the leaders as he asked me why I was going to these meetings; it was then I decided to take my power back.

Instead of going to the meetings, I would hang out with a girl who was a friend that I paid to have sex with me, do cocaine and hide out at her place for several hours before making the 45-minute drive home. I would read just enough of the Big Book to share with my wife and her family about what we talked about that day, even though it was a complete fabrication.

This led to a (2) 8 ball biweekly cocaine habit. Two days a week I would do two 8 balls, and not come home until insanely late hours. Somehow, I got away with this for a while until eventually, I did not come home one night; I was at my office watching porn, masturbating, and doing blow. She then demanded I go to rehab for 3 months, if I ever wanted to see the kids again. It was in rehab where I confessed to cheating, and with that confession, our divorce began.

In the divorce, I gave up the kids for adoption. Not exactly what I wanted to do but I knew I was too selfish and more into getting high than ever (even after rehab) to even try to fight back. As my income had fallen to almost nothing, I couldn’t afford the payments I was ordered to make for spousal support or even child support. I know had my heart been into being a father, something could have been worked out. I choose pleasure over love and that was not the first time nor the last I would do so.

I ended up meeting an amazing woman online who lived in Tulsa. She had an autistic son, but I only had to be around him on the rare occasions I would visit her when she had him, and not her ex. We could talk for hours on end, but I hated how wasted she would get because it was just sloppy, and I hated that she also smoked cigarettes. When she would get so drunk, she couldn’t walk, I would carry her out to the car to take her home. In a rage, I would take her to the bed, strip her naked, and take pictures of her. On some occasions, as she was passed out, I would have sex with her while saying evil things to her to wake her up. Once she opened her eyes I would cum inside of her with the energy of a haled “Fuck you”. I hated her while trying to love her and yet I could not bring myself to dump her. The relationship was great because when I was home in Oklahoma City, I could party and have sex with whoever I wanted, all the while telling her how much I loved her.

One day I knew in my heart she was cheating. I had gotten really good at noticing patterns with people, mainly because I got good at disguising mine. During a visit to her place, I found a box of condoms that were open with missing rubbers. We did not use condoms, so I instantly knew. The sickness I felt in my stomach was the worst pain. I hated it. I threw her to the ground and called her a slut as I stormed out of her house and headed back to Oklahoma City.

Almost halfway back to Oklahoma City she called and begged me to come back. She gave me all of her excuses, but the pain hurt so bad and I knew she was the only one who could make it better. I drove back, but instead of staying with her, I made her meet me in a hotel. When she arrived at my room, I violently threw her on the bed and started to take advantage of her; she was loving it. As I was fucking her, I exclaimed “you’re thinking about him right now, aren’t you?”

She said, “yeah, and I am thinking of him sticking it in your ass too”. In that instant, cheating no longer hurt, it became my biggest fantasy. I dreamed of getting caught having sex or walking in on the women I was with other guys or gangbangs or anything else that fed my deviant side. I became more ruthless with my cheating and although that relationship ended shortly after, I already had a replacement for her all lined up.

I got married again a few years later and although I tried to do that marriage differently by being honest about my sexual desires upfront, it eventually backfired once she decided she loved me too much to share me with anyone else. I cheated on her too, but it was only with men, so I never viewed it as cheating. She did however and ended our marriage by writing on my bathroom mirror in her red lipstick “Cheating faggot” “Cheater” and “Go to Hell” amongst other things. As guilty as I felt for hurting her, I hated being a stepdad to her kids so much that I looked at the divorce as freedom.

After that divorce, I ran into an ex on Christmas Eve, which quickly turned into what I believed at the time was a gift from God. Not only could I do drugs with her, we also brought in other guys to have sex with. It seemed like the perfect relationship for me, and she was my fantasy woman, especially after I bought her boobs. I loved showing her off to other men and her trust in me was everything I ever wanted. I hit my stride again with her by my side and not only started making good money again, I came into a lot of money after my father’s death.

My new skincare business allowed me to travel everywhere. Part of my work was entertaining plastic surgeons, dermatologists, and med spa owners. More often than not, drinks over dinner would turn into strip clubs and blow. Once I had cocaine in my system, the beast inside me would come alive and I would spend the rest of my night searching for sex online and hooking up with strangers or going to bathhouses if the city had them. The cocaine use would lead to doing meth, which then led to me being out of control to the point I would miss flights home and not respond to my girlfriend’s calls.

I always had an excuse, and I always got away with it, until one day when we were searching for a guy to come over to have sex with us, she saw a message from someone I had hooked up with when I was out of town. At that moment, her trust in me was gone forever. I could have hit her with a baseball bat in the face and she would have cried less than she did when she discovered I had cheated on her.

We stayed together, however, the trust was broken and everything I did was questioned. I hated it, but I needed her. She had become my world, and she was the only woman who allowed me to do the things I wanted to do sexually. We continued to do cocaine and drink a lot together, but now we were doing more of everything, and every other time we had our exploits, she would blow up at me.

We began to fight daily and as soon as we were happy, we would do more drugs, and drink even more. While searching for sex, she would get triggered and unleash accusations at me of more cheating. None of her specific accusations were true; while I had cheated a lot on her, I was not in those moments. My aim to defend myself, or to calm her down always escalated the fights more, not make them better.

Our fights became more and more violent causing the cops to show up multiple times at our home, now in LA. One afternoon, already trashed on drugs and alcohol, we started fighting and she started throwing glasses and plates at me. Instinctively I went at her as hard as I could, tackling her, lifting her off the ground, and slamming her down as my body fell on top of her, breaking her ribs. I had no choice but to call 911; she protected me from the cops who had shown up by saying it was an accident.

Another afternoon, she made some comments to me that set me off and I pushed her down the stairs. When she came back up the stairs to attack me, I threw her against the wall which caused her to swing at my face, barely hitting my nose. The bloodlust that came over me caused me to viscously choke her. At that moment I wanted her to die and the only thing that stopped the fight was the cops who burst into our house arresting me and taking me to jail. I got out 24 hours later and by the time I made it home, she was nearly all the way back to Oklahoma. My meth habit spiked to using 3 days a week and in the process, I was having sex in more bathhouses, having guys and girls come over for orgies, or I was being used by whoever would give me free drugs. This was all happening as I continued to declare my love for her and claim that I would change; that was a lie.

Months went by and as I fell further into my addiction, she decided to come back to Los Angeles. The day she was coming back, I was already out with friends having drinks. When she arrived, she got to meet some of my famous friends who I had been hanging out with while she was away. I already had cocaine for her when she arrived so that we could celebrate her return. As the hours went on, with more alcohol and even more cocaine, the party went back to my house. I made the decision I was hungry and left (without telling anyone) to walk to the McDonald’s down the street. I walked through the drive-through, only to be told by the police I needed a car for the drive-through, so I walked back home.

As soon as I walked in the door I heard “Where did you go? To have sex with one of your whores?” right in my face. I immediately pushed her down, in front of my friends. She came at me with a metal piece of furniture, hitting me in the face. I then grabbed her and threw her to the ground. As she kicked and punched, I went for her throat and began choking her. Moments later the cops came in through the door and separated us. Blood was pouring down my face while I began blaming her for attacking me. The cops took me outside and started asking me questions about what happened. I thought they were on my side until they read me my rights and put me back in the cop car. I sat there praying, asking for God to get me out of this. As we pulled away from my house, I saw my girlfriend being handcuffed and put into the other cop car.

Episodic “Kids”

My earliest memories were filled with so much joy. Family, consisting of my momma, dad, two half-sisters (one 12 and the other 16), my little brother (3 years younger than me), two grandmas, grandpa, aunts and uncles, and a whole bunch of super cool cousins. Then, I turned 7 and all hell broke loose in my life.

Growing up, the thought of having kids made me nauseous. All I wanted to do was travel the world, help people, have a talk show, and do infomercials. Kids would ruin that. Plus, I had no intentions of ever getting married because I wanted to have sex with whoever I wanted, whenever I wanted, and I was doing a great job of that.

Two of the girls I had dated had abortions, so I dodged a bullet there, a couple of bullets actually. Even with all my father’s warning about “knocking up some broad”, I never hesitated to cum inside of whoever I was having sex with only to ask if they were on the pill afterward. The day I found out I had a 3-year-old daughter, Oklahoma and Texas were playing in the Red River Rivalry and I was attending college at Florida Atlantic University.

I was a cheerleader having the time of my life, with the most amazing people, partying like a rock star, and making a lot of money both from my job and from letting an older guy blow or have sex with me. I was doing anything and everything I wanted to do; started doing porn that ended after 3 tries, and had my first blackout on the club drug, GHB (Gamma-hydroxybutyrate).

I was living what I thought was my best life but with the extreme highs and the extreme lows of my moods, hallucinations, insane visions, and the inability to sleep, I went to a psychiatrist to get Adderall and ended up leaving with 8 other medications as well. My drug use had spiked a lot but I was still getting things done. The adderall helped only in making me want to do coke or meth more. Meth was not really around much in Boca but cocaine was everywhere, and it was good. The ecstasy was perfect though because for an evening or two, it made life feel so perfect and it gave me something to believe in. Me.

Maybe my reaction to hearing “you need to take a paternity test” would have been a lot different had I been rolling my face off on Ecstasy, but the call came in midafternoon and I was sober, watching the big rivalry football game. After the woman claiming to be the mother of my child made her demand, I said “Go fuck yourself.” followed with “I thought it was that attorney guy’s kid”. Days later, I took the paternity test. Once I got the results, I remember thinking my life was over. The feeling of dread, realizing that I needed to do the right thing and be a dad, hit me hard.

I left Boca Raton, Florida a few months later, with the full intention of trying to be a dad. Once I arrived in Oklahoma City, I arranged a meeting with the mom and my now 3-year-old daughter, over some Mexican food. It was the strangest feeling of my life…to look at someone who looks just like me that I felt no connection with. My daughter’s mother really pressed for us to have a relationship. The problem was, I was seeing someone I met back in Boca, and quite frankly the only thing I liked about her was the sex we had that made a baby, or was it the times we did meth together when I would visit from Hawaii?

The more she pressured me to be in a relationship, the more I pulled further away. The few times I had been around my daughter were awful experiences because all she did was cry, and I had no idea how to make her stop. I had no idea what I was doing, and I was not sure this was the life for me.

The girl I had been dating in Florida was supposed to move to Oklahoma City with me but she never showed up. That opened the doors for me being set up with the most beautiful girl I had ever seen yet had zero chemistry with. Having no chemistry with this woman didn’t matter because being with her made me believe I could be a good father. She came from an awesome family, and she would help me be “normal”.

We got married. I cannot say I ever loved her, but I was in love with her family. I was cheating on her with massage girls, hookers, and occasionally a couple while she was at work. By the time her workday was done, I was home playing the role of husband…and dad. We ended up getting custody of my daughter by setting a trap for her mother that allowed us to take emergency custody. More or less, we proved that she had endangered my daughter with her meth use, and of course, I did as good of a job as possible in hiding my cocaine abuse.

My new wife wanted a baby and what she wanted she got. It was not a month after our engagement that she picked out two additional setting stones to add to her ring because the $3,500 ring I bought her was not good enough. Her mother went to the market, bought the stones, and then sent me the bill. If she wanted a bigger house, she got it regardless of the fact that we had just bought a house. When she wanted a new car, she got that too. I learned a lot from her dad about keeping a woman happy. Keep a woman happy and she will be distracted from a man’s mischief.

My wife and I ended up getting pregnant with twins and as much as I wanted to be excited, I was terrified. I had a hard enough time being a good dad for the daughter I already had. Adding a new baby boy and a baby girl with the responsibility of trying to get my act together had me feeling like the life I wanted was slipping farther and farther away. I knew in my heart; I was not fit to be a father.

I had taken a small break from doing cocaine and cheating for most of the pregnancy, with a few slip-ups. One rainy afternoon, I started looking at Craigslist under the Erotic Encounters section determined to satisfy the desire that had been building up like a volcano, about to erupt. The dark wings began to flap as I could feel Its hunger inside of me grow, it was not happy with me for ignoring It for so long.

Hunting on Craigslist was something I had done hundreds of times before. I had a good feel for how to spot fake profiles and keep myself from falling for the bait and switch kind of situations. I came across a profile that literally made my entire body spike with adrenaline; I could not believe someone so sexy was offering a girlfriend experience for only $200. That meant I could kiss her and bang her with no condom. It was the win-win I was looking for.

I wasn’t able to get cocaine ahead of time so while sitting outside in the parking lot of the hotel, I snorted two Adderall’s. Feeling a bit euphoric, I went to the room to meet up with this woman that seemed too good to be true. She was laying on the bed when we met, and she asked me if I had the money. I told her yes, then she asked me to lay the money on the nightstand and get undressed while she put something “more comfortable” on. I happily obliged but when she went to the bathroom to change my heart sank.

A loud knocking started at the door, and I heard “I wonder who that is?” As the door opened, “POLICE!” and 5 officers with guns pointed at me came running through the doors.

The days following were a living hell and extremely embarrassing. Since I got caught up in a sting that was meant for a few military guys, my name made the national news. I wound up on John.TV and I was a shame to my family, again. Even worse, I was forced to discuss my sex addiction with family…of course, I lied. Arriving home that day I was confronted by family and was given the ultimatum demanding I go to 12 step meetings to heal my addiction. On top of that, they thought it was best that my older daughter goes back to her mom who had just spent the last year in rehab.

I hated them for making me send her back. In the end, it was because they did not want my daughter around the twins. I hated my wife even more. She was a soulless bitch who had no heart. I lost connection with my daughter completely and my drug abuse escalated. More and more I would disappear for 10-hour stretches of time. Eventually, that would grow into over 24-hour periods, which landed me in rehab for a few months in a small town outside Taos, New Mexico.

It was in rehab that I confessed to cheating. Not all cases of cheating, just the one I knew she was going to find out about when she went through my computer while I was away. She filed for divorce immediately. All of my things were packed up for me and put in my soon-to-be repossessed truck. While I was in rehab, Medicare had cut allowables in half which meant at least some of my income from our family business disappeared with it. Being faced with paying child support for twins and spousal support to a woman I hated only served to fuel my rage and desire for revenge.

Eleven months into our divorce I was seeing a woman in Tulsa, Oklahoma who had a kid with autism. I wanted to like that kid but just could not connect with him. I found ways to avoid going to Tulsa to visit when he was around, most of the time. It was the advantage of having a long-distance relationship, and it made cheating easier too. It was in Tulsa, however, that I learned about the plan my ex-father-in-law had to get me to give up custody of the kids. I had fallen behind on child support, or was it spousal support? Who knows because I was paying her 2,000 to 3,000 a month already but clearly that was not enough for her. Although I was court-ordered to pay more, the amount was insane.

I was completely backed into a corner. My options were either giving the kids up for adoption or going to court and getting destroyed by her father. Her father was a brilliant attorney and a man I admired very much, also including his wife. They were good to me, but I also feared them because they had something more impactful than money and that was power. After I signed away my kids, I went on a dating spree that was so desperate in nature it should have scared people away. When I met women on dates, I would share how awful I was but how hard I was trying to get my life on track and somehow that got me laid more than I could have ever done pretending to have my life together. I was out on dates 3 to 4 nights a week and on the other nights I was doing drugs and having sex with strangers. I hated being alone, so I was either on dates ‘falling in love’ with people I barely knew, or I was at a stranger or hooker’s house doing meth and having sex.

Match.com proved to be the best swinger’s website I had ever been on but that did not stop me from being on sex sites and apps too. I had lost complete contact with my daughter at that point, and I started dating another woman with two kids. Her love was so intense, I couldn’t handle it, so I frequently pushed her away. She was positive about everything and always happy. No matter what, she was happy, and I hated that. I could never understand how in the world she could ever love me. While we were dating, I cheated often with men and women, but I only shared about me having sex with guys, which at first she seemed ok with it.

When we hung out, I always had fun; she would do whatever I wanted and never told me no. We would do cocaine together and hook up with other guys but that only happened a few times until she decided that she loved me too much to share me with anyone else. I tried to go along with it, I tried to be good but that only lasted a few weeks before I was sneaking around cheating. We got married after a few months of dating because I loved her, and she did make me better at what I would allow her to. I had cordoned off a big part of my heart from her though. I felt she had tricked me into marrying her, keeping me from being “me”. Even cheating on her did not satisfy me because I wanted her to be a part of it. I wanted her with me when I was with other guys, and she took that from me too.

I tried to be good, I really did, but every time I got annoyed with the kids or felt like I was giving too much time to my family I would hear It…echoing in my head, feeding me the information I needed to get me out of the house and back to partying with one of the regular hookups I got meth from or strangers in hotel rooms. I resented being a dad to those kids because I felt they were in the way of our relationship. It felt as if it was not for the kids, I could have had the relationship I wanted with their mom.

The last time I got caught cheating ended our marriage. Even though I loved her, I was happy it was over.

I wanted to be me and there was nothing about me that wanted or needed kids in my life. Finding myself divorced again, I made up my mind that I was going to be upfront about what I must have sexually to be happy, and that was a loving relationship with a woman that allowed for us to bring other men into the bedroom. I also wanted to be able to party and do drugs when I wanted so I ensured in my dating profiles on apps that I made it clear what I was looking for. I felt free and I acted in celebration mode with each and every hookup moving forward. I was the life of the party again and then after each party ended, I would disappear, back in the shadows. My double life now had its own double life and I worked tirelessly to keep It fed and happy. Every time I felt Its presence, or Its groan, I did not resist anymore, I just said “yes” and started my hunt.

My father’s death came at the perfect time, and I finally received the inheritance I felt was rightfully mine. I could buy all the drugs and sex I wanted, and nothing could stop me. Christmas Eve that year I ran into the ex-girlfriend I had dated right before this last marriage. Seeing her again brought back all the amazing feelings I had about her, and I knew I should not have broken up with her in the first place. I knew I was not ready to be in a relationship but at least I could start the rekindling of our friendship off honestly, without fear.

I never expected the truth about my desires to be received so well. I discovered quickly that she was the answer to all my prayers.

Next Episodic “Death”

As I was being booked for jail in LA County, I thought it would be a good idea to tell them I had HIV. For one, I needed to make sure I took my meds, and for two I did NOT want to be in the general population. LA County is not a friendly jail. The last time I had been there I made sure to give up my peanut butter as quickly as I got it because I wanted to make sure I was protected while I was there. I had been in jail 5 other times but there was nothing like this. Each time before I knew I was going home, but there I was staring at 5 years in prison, and it didn’t look good.

After going through booking, I walked over to the nurse to be questioned about my health. On the way over I saw my girlfriend sitting there, stone-faced as she answered questions from her booking officer. I looked at her, and although I had been warned not to speak to her, I whispered “I am sorry. I love you, please forgive me” in a last-ditch effort to hope that somehow I could get out of being there.

I was still riding high from the 8 ball and still drunk from the Tequila I had been drinking non-stop since noon the day before so the reality of what was taking place had not really hit me. As the jail door slammed on my cell, I noticed that it was just me there, alone, with a metal toilet attached to the sink, a metal bed with a 1-inch pad to sleep on, surrounded by solid walls all around me. I couldn’t see out of my cell in any direction, but I could hear the screams of madmen.

Cackling laughter, angry screams, and taunts were coming out of the walls all around me. “Make it stop, make it stop, please God, make it stop!”

My first night in jail was hell. Coming down off the cocaine and a bottle or more of Tequila, the slow process of sobering up delivered an even slower exposure of the reality I was imprisoned in, literally. I begged the guards for something to read but I was rejected each time. “Will you give me something to read? Anything officer, please!” Nothing. How would I kill time here? I started doing push-ups, sit-ups, jumping jacks but it did not take much for my heart to feel like it was going to explode. I thought about jerking off but then I got worried about getting caught.

“Oh Lord, what am I going to do!?!?!?!”

“Wait, a Bible…. They have to give me a Bible!”

Once the guard came back around, I yelled to get his attention “Excuse me officer? May I have a Bible please?” I asked in desperation as I needed a distraction, bad.

“I will be right back,” he answered.

A few hours later the guard came back with one of those small red Bibles. I had never really tried to read the Bible with any effort even though I grew up going to church 3 times a week. I did not understand it, nor did I care to but this was the only way I could distract myself. I started with Genesis and got bored. Bored and it made no sense to me at all. I turned to Revelations and started reading but that was just going to give me nightmares. Then I went to Psalms, but they did not really make any sense either. Finally, I started reading Proverbs, which actually made some sense to me. I thought to myself with each line I read, “I am doing that wrong, definitely that wrong. I am really doing that wrong!”. Then I remembered one of my high school best friends (who I used to get drunk with all the time and had even been arrested with) had become a pastor. I searched for the book of John and as I started to read about Jesus, my heart started to break.

I never understood who Jesus was, why people claimed He loved them, why people felt He gave us purpose, or even how they could be given a new life in Him. None of that ever made sense to me. For the first time in my life, I started to understand the significance of this man people dedicated their lives to.

“Jesus really did that for me?”

As soon as I asked myself that question, I got very angry at God and started cursing Him.

“Why won’t you fix me!?!?!?!?! Why won’t you fix me like everyone else! I begged you to change me!” I was complaining about all the times in my life I tried to get my act together but could not last longer than a few weeks.

“Why won’t you fix me?!?!?! I have begged you to change me, but nothing! You fix everyone but me! Why God, why?!?!?!?”

“ You have to forgive your father.” was the message I received.

“How in the hell am I supposed to do that?” I screamed back to God.

God revealed, “Because it happened to him too.”

With those words, I felt something I had never felt before in regard to my father. I felt compassion.

After compassion set in, the realization that this man who I had hated, who abused me, who cheated on my mom so many times and threw her around, who was inappropriate with my sisters, and who had been responsible for so many of the painful memories in my life, was no different than me. The man, whose funeral I showed up an hour late to because of the cocaine-fueled sex party I had the night before had kept me from sleeping, was just a hurt little boy in a man’s body, like I was.

Everything I hated about that man, my father, was everything I hated about myself. I had become exactly like my father but worse. At that moment I realized that as much as I needed to forgive him, I needed to ask for forgiveness from him.

“Dad, I am sorry, forgive me. Please forgive me. I am sorry I made a mockery of your funeral, and I am sorry that I was not there for you more when you battled melanoma. I am sorry dad. Will you forgive me?”

With that cry, a ray of light started to burn holes through the boulders surrounding my shoulders, and little by little, my heart began to break…open.

Sobbing, I went back and read the book of John again and as I read, I knew I had someone else I needed to ask to forgive me.

“Father God, I am sorry. Please forgive me. I have run from you since as early as I can remember. I have run from my purpose; I know what you called me to do and I ran. I am sorry. I am sorry that I took for granted all that you had blessed me with, I am sorry for becoming a junkie, an abuser, I am sorry for all that I have done wrong. I want to be who you called me to be, not this person. I know you sent your son, Jesus, to die on the cross for MY sins. Will you forgive me? My life is no longer my own. I surrender. Use all of me for your purposes. Even behind bars, I will do what you called me to do. My life is no longer my own. Take my life, I surrender. Jesus take my life!”

At that moment what felt like lightning, shot through my body, knocking me on my butt and lifting me off the ground simultaneously. The next thing I know, I am singing “Jesus, Jesus, Praise you Jesus” making up songs because I did not know any but I just felt like singing and dancing. Now I know why I was put in isolation, because I sure as heck would not be singing or dancing around other inmates. It was the most extraordinary moment of my life and there was no denying what happened. How could I ever deny this? Jesus is not only real, He is alive in me!

Josh died right then, and in my rebirth, I became Joshua, who I was created to be all along.

The atmosphere had changed and now all the visions from my childhood that spawned out of every other traumatic event in my life started to flood my mind. I realized then that each of those visions was where God showed me what was possible if I chose Him. The dreams were not to mock me but to show me there was a better way and what was possible for my life. For the first time in my life, I chose someone else besides me to take control of my life. I had fully surrendered my life to Jesus and now it was time to get to work for Him.

Never in my wildest dreams had I thought I would get out of jail but after 5 days, I did not see the judge and was released without being charged. I was free. Pardoned for my sins against God and man. Leaving me to figure out how to fulfill the promises I made before God. Unlike all the other times I tried to turn my life around, this time I had fully surrendered and was committed to seeking Jesus with all I had and being who He created me to be.

The drug use, the sex, and poor decisions made it impossible for me to afford where I was living; I was dead broke. I was months behind on rent and now I was out of options of where to live. I had alienated everyone I knew. I had broken the trust of everyone who attempted to trust me, so calling in a favor was not something I had the luxury of doing. A few weeks before the arrest, I had taken a job in Orange County after losing my business due to my own horrible decisions made while abusing drugs, not sleeping for days at a time, and being incapable of collecting on money that was owed to me. By the grace of God, my new job decided to stand by me and allowed me to keep my job after I was let out of jail. The only issue was that I did not make enough to afford a place to live, so I ended up sleeping in my car. That lasted about a week before I remembered that I had a bunch of Marriott points from all my traveling and was able to spend the next week in a hotel room at no cost, allowing me to save money. Even being without a home and my future being unclear, I was full of hope and promise as I could feel God working on my heart in ways I had never felt before.

As I took my first steps of freedom onto the streets of Downtown LA the reality of what I had committed to had hit me. The promises I made to serve the Lord full time started to get overwhelming for me as that promise was going to be a lot easier to keep behind bars than me being free on the streets of Los Angeles.

“Now what God? What is the next step? How do I keep these promises? How do I achieve what you created me to do? How do I become the man you created me to be?”

To Whom It May Concern -

First of all, thank you for reading my testimony. As you can tell, God got the final words of this book and if you do not know what “seek me” is supposed to mean, I honestly did not know either. I actually thought Jesus was inside me now and seeking Him was the last thing I needed to do but I learned 2 weeks later after my spiritual high wore off and reality hit me what it meant.

Asking for Jesus to take my life was just the beginning. Literally, it was like becoming an infant again because I knew nothing about what it meant to live for God, or even how to really pursue my purpose, and all the things I knew in my heart I was supposed to do. “Seek me” I learned meant that He wants a relationship with me (and all His children). He wanted me to seek Him first, not a girlfriend, a wife, sex, drugs, social media, food…. He wanted me first. When I learned to put Him first by seeking Him first, I learned how to truly live.

Learning how to live did not mean I was perfect or even close now, but I did learn the power of truth and repentance during my walk. I learned that God will use all things, including our mistakes. My story did not end once I hit the streets of LA, in fact, my life got even crazier but 90 percent of it was the kind of crazy that was fun and allowed me to step into my calling. I also had my relapses but because I learned the power of Truth., I learned that I could immediately confess my mistakes and God would use it for good. In my case, it has been public confessions. I had been so good at keeping secrets, lying, and manipulating that God wanted me to put a spotlight on my shadow world.

The Devil Inside Me is my testimony given with 100 percent honesty. Names have been kept from the book and some of the timing of certain events were changed for the book, short films, and audiobook (found at https://livemanaworldwide.org/category/the-devil-inside-me /). Some things needed to be changed to protect the innocent however the evil you see in this book, all of it including the dangerous sex, abuse, cheating, lies… all real.

I am happy this book is over because while I have been bold about my testimony in the past on my talk show Gratitude: Unfiltered, the details have been left out to a large degree because I try to avoid triggering others, myself and even using curse words. With The Devil Inside Me, the Lord put it on Jessica and my heart to reveal all and do so in a way that woke up sleeping demons, and/or triggered the audience. The reason is that triggers show us what the Lord get’s to heal.

Writing this book woke up a lot of triggers inside of me that had been hiding and as emotionally painful as this was to write and record, I am happy the process woke up things that have been hiding. Writing this helped me heal even more because, with each chapter, something new would expose itself that I got to surrender to the Lord throughout this process. With each surrender, I got stronger because I was reminded of what He brought me through, delivered me from, and just how much I need Him.

I gave my life to the Lord over 5 years ago now and while I will tell you nothing has been easy, my life did not become perfect, and the battle has only gotten tougher. I will also say that all of the things I lost have been restored (with the exception of the twins), I am living fully in my purpose now, I have an amazing family life with my 2 step kids, amazing wife Jessica, my oldest daughter, mother, stepdad, brother, his wife, my nieces, and nephews, I have real friendships, I am healthy, I am able to look at myself in the mirror, I am successful, I am honest, and I am happy…

I have been able to experience the Lord’s favor and it is amazing, yes but what is more awesome is that ALL of the bad things you read about in this book have now all been used for good. All the things I feared about people discovering about me while I was in the shadows or even a baby Follower of Jesus were and have been used for good the moment I surrendered that fear and worry to Him. I also have complete confidence that with every challenge or GIANT that I come across it has already been overcome. In Christ, the outcome of the battle is guaranteed victory. Our giants are meant to be conquered, not run from. Pray for something BIG, and something BIG is going to come your way.

Remember, in Christ, you are victorious, the outcome is guaranteed.

The last thing I want to say is this. The dreams and Visions you have had in your life are God showing you what’s possible. He is not the God of confusion, nor does He mock or tease us. I ran from what I saw as a kid up until my 6th time in jail; up until I realized that I cannot outrun God or His plans for me. Sure, it took 6 times in jail, HIV, multiple overdoses, 2 divorces, losing my kids, bankruptcy, and lots of self-inflicted and dishing out of abuse, but He proved over and over how amazing His love, grace, and mercy is by just keeping me alive until I figured it out.

It is never too late to make your dreams come true, and if you are someone reading this who has a dark past like me, I want you to understand those words more than anyone.

My wife and I started the Live Mana Worldwide Foundation & Multimedia Broadcast Network for people like you and me. We created a foundation that has a focus to elevate the passion, purpose, and mission of everyone we work with while being a voice for the voiceless. The Lord has blessed us in ways that have allowed us to help make other people’s dreams come true regardless of the hell we have lived in. We are especially passionate about serving the youth with our program Voices 4 the Voiceless, a program that equips, trains, and teaches the future of media to kids all over the world so that they are prepared for the new world ahead. Not everyone has the financial means to learn all of the necessary skills that are needed to prepare them for the future, and it is our mission to help break cycles of poverty, addiction, hopelessness, and abuse.

If you want more information about Live Mana Worldwide or Voices 4 the Voiceless, please go to LiveManaWorldwide.org.

My relationship with Jesus has become the most important thing in my life and when I heard people say that in the past, I rolled my eyes and laughed at them. It never made sense but that was because I never actually pursued a relationship. I can tell you from all my failed relationships that if we do not pay attention to our partners, we cannot expect much out of the relationship. With Jesus, it is no different.

What if I told you that by seeking a relationship with Jesus, all your other relationships would improve? What if I told you that by putting Jesus first in your life, most of what haunts you will disappear? What if I told you that a relationship with Jesus is the secret to living a life worth living? Could you accept that? Will you?

If you want to give your life to the Lord, as scared or nervous as you may be, you do not need some crazy prayer. You do not need a priest, or a preacher, you just need you, from the bottom of your heart to say, “My life is no longer my own Lord. I surrender it all to you. I surrender my addictions, my anger, my rage, my disease, my heartbreak, my arrest records, my lies, my anxiety, my fear…. I surrender it all. Take my life, I am yours.”

I actually encourage you to use your own words, but I can assure you that He knows your heart. If you want Him in your life, just ask Him to be there. Invite Him, and after you do that seek Him. There is no better place to find Him than when you are alone with Him, reading His word, talking to Him, and waiting on Him to speak to you. His word is where we find wisdom, it is where we find peace, it is where we learn to walk out His word so that we can live in obedience. It is obedience that opens the gates of heaven here on Earth for us…. It is quite a beautiful thing.

Thank you all for reading and God bless you. — Joshua T. Berglan

Thank you’s

My wife, Jessica — God moved mountains to bring us together and to have the opportunity to work on The Devil Inside Me with you, side by side it has been one of the greatest blessings of my life. I also thank you for teaching me love that I never knew or had experienced before. I thank you for the trust we share and for the father you have taught me to be. The girls are just as much a gift to me as you are. I love you.

Momma — I know you won’t read the book, and I do not blame you but for all the reasons I have to be grateful for you, it was you leaving me in jail that I am most thankful for. You leaving me there, you being obedient to Him, is what allowed God to do what He needed to do. I love you, Momma.

Robbie — Thank you for teaching me what being a good husband and father looks like. Thank you for being a great husband to my mom.

Bro — Brother, I am sorry I was not a better big brother. I love you and I am proud of the man and father you have become. I love you.

Pastor Castillo — My spiritual Father. I have learned so much from you and your Godly wisdom. You and Pastor Melba brought me into your church family and gave me a home. You helped prepare me for what the Lord has prepared for me to do, and I could not be more grateful for you. I love you, Pastor.

Word of God Church & My Brothers Keeper OKC — Thank you for raising me up and becoming my Kingdom family. I Love you.

The Twins — Who knows if you will ever see this, but there has not been one moment since I gave you up for adoption that I did not miss you both. One of my greatest motivations for turning my life around was so that one day we would possibly be reunited. While I do not deserve that kind of grace, it is that mercy I pray and believe God for. God protected you from me back then, but it is my prayer that one day you will see that the Devil is no longer inside of me. I love you both and have never stopped in all this time.

Loni — I am proud of the woman you are considering you did not have anyone raise you. I failed at being your father growing up but am so grateful for the relationship we have now. I know in my heart it will get better and our family, all of us will be fully reunited once again. I love you.

Jason S — Thank you for being the big brother I needed. I love you.

Conchita L — I tell people all the time you have been a sister, mom, and a friend to me. The role you have played in my life all these years is one of the most significant of all. You have blessed me immeasurably and I cannot thank you enough. I love you.

Aaron H. — I am grateful for you because you saw something in me and gave me the opportunity to make my dreams come true. I am grateful for you because you took a risk with me and yet have never wavered from your belief in me. Thank you for having my back, being a friend, and also being so amazing to work with. I love you.

Aggie — You have really become one of my favorite people in this world and I am so grateful for the support, and opportunities you have brought me into. It means a lot to me. I love you.

Keri O — Thank you for editing this book but more importantly thank you for becoming part of our family. I love you.

Orly — Thank you for seeing me, each of me, and playing such a powerful role in making my dreams come true.

Charlotte & Brynlee — Thank you for teaching me how to be a Father. You have blessed my life so much and I am grateful for getting to be your Step-Dad. I love you both.

My exes — I have apologized a million times to you all, and that has even landed me a restraining order. I am lumping you altogether because I want to protect your identities as much as possible. I cannot change the hurt that I caused you all, nor do I even expect forgiveness from you, but I do want you to know that I pray every day that you have found peace and healing from the damage I did in your lives. I hurt you, I lied to you, I cheated on you, I put you at risk, and so much more. You made it in this book because you played a major role in my life and while our relationships ended on a really awful note, you matter to me. I pray that God has healed the damage I did in your lives.

I have so many more people to thank because to get me to this point in my life, it took miracles, blessings, divine appointments, and so much more. God is so great, and I am thankful for each and every one of you who has played a role in helping me get to live out my dreams. Whether it was an opportunity, a betrayal, tough love, wisdom, reminders of how God sees me, teaching me the Word, giving me a couch, bed, or even home to sleep in….. So many miracles and blessings and I thank God for each and every one of you. I love you.

Such a fat baby I was… already wearing a mask at birth… foreshadow much?

Breastfeeding lasted only a few weeks and I went straight to cheeseburgers lol

My Grandmother was the Queen of class and someone who so many looked up to and admired. To this day, no one made better pie than her.

My Grandfather was a great man of God, a good husband, a great role model, and everyone respected him. He deserved my respect, and he deserved my love, both I failed to give him when he was here on this Earth.

Cute and adorable or little devil?

My mother and I. She is the one person on this Earth who I never doubted her love, support, and belief in me. Through every call from jail, every time I got kicked out of school, every relapse, she was there loving me regardless of how bad I was breaking her heart. Making her proud is the best drug I have ever found.

This was our family’s first computer and learning to manipulate technology for all the things I was seeking to find, learn, get stimulation from, or just kill time started here. I had not discovered porn yet, so these early years were spent mastering Where In The World Is Carmen San Diego?

Senior Night, my last year of High School. A Month after this game, I got kicked out of school for fighting and hitting a teacher. My mother told me after this happened that if I did not get my rage under control, that I would end up in jail. She was right, I went 6 times and should have been there more.

My mom, brother and I are in my Freshman year in College. This is post football, early College Cheerleading days when the devil inside me was still growing but impossible for me to control. I spent so much time hiding and running from reality that I forgot to be a good brother or even a son that my mother could be proud of.

My mother and I, in Maui. While attending college at Hawaii Pacific University, she came to see me with her fiancé at the time. I ordered my first alcoholic drink in front of her immediately after.

First year at college cheerleading nationals. This pic was taken post competition after seeing the sunrise on ecstasy, ketamine, GHB, cocaine and a random tongue piercing. My tongue later swelled up so much I could not speak for a week, I probably should not have been doing some of the things I was doing with my tongue the night before.

Some of my favorite people in the world, getting to be backup dancers for the Little Romeo video “Take 2”.

These amazing humans and I, outside of MTV’s Spring Break Auditions. We crushed our savage version of the Bloodhound Gang’s “Wrong Touch”.

Two of the best friends I have ever had but were terrified to allow them to see me for who I really was. This was taken in Mexico, where I married my first wife. These special friends told me I was making a mistake, but I was convinced a woman could make me a better person and ignored them.

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Gratitude: UnFiltered

https://livemanaworldwide.org/category/gratitude-unfiltered/

Be blessed, Joshua & Jessica

Originally published at https://theworldsmayor.com.