Horrorcow Lucas Werner - A man of Spokane, Washington who is obsessed with millennial and Gen Z chicks

Why do his brothers hate him?
What I've witnessed in their interactions is just hostility. I'm sure Lucas spergs about atheism and the like.
One post that I saw on Myrna's page showed Lucas being jealous of his brother Seth for landing a prestigious teaching position and calling his brother names. His mother seems to have deleted the comments but there's been bad blood between the two for a long time. One of G+ screenshots from a page or two back shows Lucas talking about his brother, of course he spins it to look like the victim, which is his MO.

Edit: I'll dig around later for screenshots.
 
His entire family hates him because he's a crazy bum that won't take his meds.

He used to make all these posts about inheriting a farm but I highly doubt that's going to happen.

What I've witnessed in their interactions is just hostility. I'm sure Lucas spergs about atheism and the like.
One post that I saw on Myrna's page showed Lucas being jealous of his brother Seth for landing a prestigious teaching position and calling his brother names. His mother seems to have deleted the comments but there's been bad blood between the two for a long time. One of G+ screenshots from a page or two back shows Lucas talking about his brother, of course he spins it to look like the victim, which is his MO.

Edit: I'll dig around later for screenshots.

Can you post his moms fb or message it to me? Pretty please!
 
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His entire family hates him because he's a crazy bum that won't take his meds.

He used to make all these posts about inheriting a farm but I highly doubt that's going to happen.

His stepmom will inherit anything but Lucas said that she smokes so she will die before him and he will inherit the land. <sarcasm>Yeah, okay. </sarcasm> More bait for the pedo hook.
 
His stepmom will inherit anything but Lucas said that she smokes so she will die before him and he will inherit the land. <sarcasm>Yeah, okay. </sarcasm> More bait for the pedo hook.

Likely scenarios for Lucas' early demise:
  1. Poor health from homelessness
  2. Death from exposure to cold from homelessness
  3. Being fatally wounded by another mentally ill homeless person
  4. Being fatally wounded by another inmate were he to end up in prison
  5. Being violently assaulted as a result of harassing/molesting women
  6. Being violently assaulted for verbal/racial abuse
  7. Contracting illness from other homeless people, possibly HIV or hepatitis

I'd say Stepmum's prospects look pretty good.
 
He's getting funnier, check out his page.

It's here, don't think there's any content though: https://m.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100009004992752

She cleans up her page pretty quickly. Roy's is quiet save for a few things.

Interaction between Shawn and Lucas. Shawn is Lucas' half brother.

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That "See More" comment
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Lucas Being an entitled brat:
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Random tahd Atheist Sperg:
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I think the funniest part he constantly brags about being jobless, I don't have the time to do drugs.

I guess I'm a multi tasker than <_<

I think what I enjoy about Lucas, he says things that are just comical, down right scary and slappable all in the same sentence.
 
Yes. The answer is yes, you dipshit. Why is it so hard to grasp that women don't want to be with a man that physically cannot take care of himself, let alone another person? That's not ageist Millennial bitches conspiring against you. It's common sense. Women tend to look for partners who protect and comfort them.

There's literally nothing protective or comforting about him. In fact, he lives extremely far away from me and I'm still skeeved out just knowing he exists. He doesn't even make good use of his welfare bux. There's not a single redeemable quality about him. Instead of attempting to improve even a minor aspect of his life (which complete tards are capable of doing, believe it or not), he just repeats the same incoherent shit about atheism and how much of a god he is in the sack.
 
Lucas' Personal Reflection ala 2010:


Dream Girls and Devil Horns

Autobiography of a Manic Depressive Straight Ally

Lucas Werner



My mom has really looked after me since I was diagnosed with bipolar. She likes to set me up and make sure I'm comfortable where ever I'm living. It has been this way since I was first doped with anti-depressants and anti-psychotic drugs. The past couple times she's seemed sad when I've asked how my little brother Seth is doing. I get the feeling she's reporting very old news and the last text message she got was maybe "Hey" months ago and she says, "Oh, he's fine. He's tutoring classes." I say "Cool" Maybe she'll add some anecdote and I'll say, "Yeah. Right on. That's cool." I usually don't have much to talk about with my life. My life is pretty boring to me. Whenever I bring up something I'm writing, she seems excited. She says "Uh huh?" and "Yeah?" with enthusiasm. She listens when no one else will. "Well, glad Seth's doing good." The truth is I'm actually pretty jealous of Seth being in college and having a job and a girlfriend and a lot of friends and having fun adventures. I'm jealous of my own brother. My younger brother. If you stopped reading now you would realize just how pathetic Lucas Werner is and you all could sleep just that much sounder. Another thing you, the reader, should also know:



I've never told my mom how envious I am that my little brother seems to be living the life I wanted to live when I was in school, struggling with girls and trying to get good grades. You heard that right. I'm proud of you, Seth. But you deserve to know that I envy your success like no one else on Earth. Pretty sad, huh? I think it is. I hope you think I'm pathetic. Do you know why? Because I still love you anyway and hope you achieve everything you have ever wanted in life. And even more than you want. Because if I have to be jealous of anyone, I'm glad I'm jealous of a young man who will grow up to inspire other hard-headed troubled kids like you in a positive way I always wanted to, but never will. I'm glad you stole my dream. Why? You're 100 times the man I am today, because you had to grow up dealing with such an asshole older brother like me. Thank you for getting through it. Not a lot of kids your age will. Not a lot of kids your age did.



When I figured I might meet a girl in college and finally be happy, I stopped worrying about girls so much and masked my pain by smoking pot instead. I never really thought of my mom and Seth as having a close relationship until he started doing well in college about the time I was bouncing around psych wards and mental health hospitals. They even text each other. I'm glad they were able to respect each other. I had always wanted them to be closer. It might not always be perfect but it is a start. The truth is, I'll always be jealous of Seth because he's becoming a teacher and is living my dream. I had always wanted to be a teacher since I was very young. Whenever I mention wanting to go to college to my mom, she'll always say, "Well, Lucas, with your illness..." I usually become flabbergasted and start stuttering and then stop for a moment to let her finish. She does, "I just don't think it's a good idea". Whenever I tell her I want to go back to school over the phone, and she says "Not a good idea." I say, "Okay." and end it there. When it's in the car, she might ask me what classes I want to take. I'll struggle. I'll mention maybe physics. She'll say she's lost. So I try to explain physics. She'll say, "I don't get all that." "It's very complex", I'll say. She'll change the subject to where I want to go eat and I'll forget about it and we'll talk about food or something. I usually just forget or intentionally forget because when I bring it up at dinner, she'll just say, "Oh." And I get nervous. The truth is, my focus has as always been the same since I was little, getting interesting smart pretty girls to notice me. I just don't think interesting smart pretty girls like me very much. The only interesting smart pretty woman to ever notice me was my mom.



But this has always made me think, no other interesting smart pretty girls will ever like me because they would remind me of my mom and it would make me feel dumb. I'd be lucky to meet a woman like my mom, but I would still feel dumb. I wouldn't even begin to know what to say. I've never been with an interesting smart pretty girl. Or had one be interested in talking to me because I don't know where to meet them and I don't have enough money to go to bars. I'm also very shy. Especially around smart and interesting and pretty women. If I see any, I turn away really fast and hope they don't notice me or talk to me because I don't want to mess up their lives by telling them I'm bipolar and having them see me cry because I can't give them nice things because I don't have any money and am poor. And smart interesting pretty girls need a guy with security. I don't have any security. I just cry when I think about how much I would like to meet one someday and it makes me cry because I can't give them the security they need. I just cry because I feel so insecure when they're around me. I don't know what they mean by security.



I've never had a chance to ask these types of girls what they really mean by "security" because I'm so nervous around them, I can't build up the words in my mouth or in my brain of what to say. My mouth goes numb. My mind goes blank. Even my fingers forget they're on a keyboard if I'm trying to meet one online. I keep thinking of all the pretty girls who seemed very smart and interesting that I've ever seen anywhere and my brain goes fuzzy and my mouth gets dry and even my fingers stop typing as fast. I get halfway between trying to describe all this and making my thoughts and words and keystrokes come together. I become uncoordinated and I almost pass out. I'll even repeat things in my head and on the page and even try to physically sound it all out without losing focus in my head because whenever I think of smart pretty interesting girls... I turn into this indescribable thing trying to finish my own sentence. I lose my concentration and it all just runs together like toothpaste.



I can't even pronounce words when I'm around a girl I really like. My mind turns inside out. I can't type. I just want to meet one so bad without losing my mind the moment I'm talking to her because that's what happens when I try to picture one. Because I don't think they exist. My brain doesn't put it all together right. Everything just turns to mush. I also feel like I was hit in the face by an invisible bag of bricks. My face doesn't hurt. My cheeks are just wet from crying and I'm woozy. Like being smacked with wet invisible painless bricks that make me dizzy and I'll see stars. And then I don't remember what happens because this is the part of the story where I want to reach for a cigarette. But I'm holding back until I reach a rewarding stopping point because this feels like the best conversation I've ever had and I don't even know who I'm talking to. I just keep typing. And typing. And typing. Where was I? Oh. Yeah. The bipolar. I don't even know why I bring it up except that it's part of the story-arc and we're just now getting to the good part.





When I started going through the moodiness and breakdowns - when I was diagnosed with bipolar, it kind of got the attention to focus around Seth at home, I think. When I first went in to the psych ward, it was January of 2000 and he was getting close to finishing his Senior year, prepping to graduate from high school. I remember feeling good for him and bad for me at the same time because I was having problems concentrating on my correspondence program. First moving out in 1998. Trying to study. Not being able to study because I was working a lot then. Then coming back home. Trying to work. Getting fired. Discouraged. I had my first nervous breakdown where I ended up in the psych-ward for 10 days and being diagnosed with bipolar. I kind of felt stuck in slow-drive between 1998 and 2000. I was in a deep funk. It was now 2000. Seth's graduation year. My own senior year is when I started drinking and smoking weed to loosen up so I could talk to girls without crying or my muscles turning into deviled ham. It helped a little bit. I wasn't so nervous but my grades and class attendance suffered. Go figure. At this time, it was as if the roles started to reverses. Suddenly I wanted to rebel while Seth started to become more grounded and buckled down at school. I started losing focus and getting out of touch. I struggled. I hopped from one job in Aberdeen at Subway to more of the same type of work when I moved up to Olympia in 1998 with Michelle and Cyril.



I didn't quite have all my high school credits and really fought to find time to balance working jobs I hated, just to pay the bills and getting the credits I needed to finish my diploma course through correspondence with The University of Arizona. I was having frequent nightmares of my life falling away. I wasn't sleeping well. I tried to come back to my old self again and care about schoolwork. The consistency of the weed was pretty good then too. Pot also helped me unwind after working an 8 hour a day job at the McDonald's, which was grueling and kind of like high school because some dream girls worked there and some dream girls were customers. But I mostly stayed on the tasks at hand because I really needed the money to pay for living in Olympia with Cyril and Michelle. And if I lost my job, I would potentially be living on the streets, which has always scared me more than just about anything else in life. So I did what I had to do. Work sucked because it was a boring repetitive job that I hated immensely because it took up a lot of my time and everything about the job smelled bad. It was dirty. It was dark. The floors were never cleaned properly like some restaurants. My clothes and skin began to smell like grease. I stopped being able to look at a McDonald's or their food without that sick grease smell entering my nostrils and shuttering from head to toe when no one was looking because I didn't want to talk about why I was shuttering around Cyril.



Cyril's voice has always reminded me of a combination of my Dad's inspiring pep talks from when I played baseball and later football and wanted to quit the most but he always could talk me into it and Larry's always stern but gentle look that always made me accept him as an equal and respect him as man because he's always a good guy to have in my corner. Larry's always been such a supportive husband to my mom, even in her most trying difficult-to-get-along-with times. My dad has always helped me want to go just a little bit farther and work a little bit harder and Larry's always just been a friend to me. My dad and my step-dad are inspirations to me as a writer. They're both cool guys. I love them both and have learned to treat people good because of them. When these two personality types, as my dad and step-dad, began to collided into Cyril and his "suggestions"... I always pictured him having sex with my mom and it made me flinch because Cyril has always rubbed me the wrong way in other ways too. Even if it was usually only under the surface, there was always something I couldn't quite trust about him. He puts out a bad vibe. And this is why:



I used to always hope Cyril would have introduced me to all girls he has been friends with. But he never has gone out of his way like that for me or has once taken a chance to help me out, even though he knows plenty of women. He's never hooked me up is what I'm saying. I always thought this was a strange thing for him not to have ever done. Then it dawned on me. Aside from Justin, the others - Bryan Keogh, Patrick O'Connor, myself, all his "little buddies" have had trouble meeting women and talking to women. Cyril has side-kicked his "buddies" so he could look more charming because we were so shy. I know he has talked behind Bryan's back and Patrick's back and told people they were gay when they weren't, just so they would never get a chance to meet his women friends and steal his potential fallback partners. I always thought it was fishy that we never have gone out bar hopping together and he's had girlfriends. How many people has he run this game on? Is it just us? Or has it been every younger male friend he has ever lured in and established a trust with? This seems more likely to me. Cyril established a trust some of us thought was iron clad. A trust Cyril has abandoned time and time again.



This bait and switch has had detrimental affects on all 3 of our lives. Mine. Patrick's. Bryan's. I have always suspected Cyril has called me gay behind my back because he has called Patrick gay behind his back. He has called Bryan gay behind his back. And I'm just like Patrick and Bryan. Intelligent. Kind of bookish in private. Wanting to be more social. Shy around women. But Cyril has never stood up for any of us when we are not around. He has always talked shit behind our backs because I've heard he talks shit, even from other people, not even connected to any one of the three of us. Cyril has called us gay behind our backs and has spread vicious rumors so we end up looking like the bad guys / chumps and he ends up looking like a king. Cyril is insecure and hates competition to the extent that he will befriend younger guys with the express purpose of talking shit behind their backs so he looks like the hero.



If I have something to say to someone I say it to their face. I don't sneak around like a cheating fake friend and a pussy ass bitch. The lamest part is that he gets others to do it and join in the fun too. But I know he calls me gay behind my back. And I know he talks shit. I've heard he what he does from other guys he's done this to. It might be why whenever he's talked about Patrick, or Bryan he's sold them out as "queer" when they haven't been. If he's done it to them, I'm sure he's done it to me. Thanks Cyril. I want you to know that you're the fakest friend I've ever had. You're a pussy assed bitch. You're insecure. You use younger guys to get women into bed with you. This makes you the biggest tool on the planet as far as I'm concerned. Read it. Really take it in. Because I know you to be a sell out.



You sell out your younger male friends. You PRETEND you are their friend and you use people to turn on each other so you will end up looking like the hero when it's you we have all come to, to straighten it all out in the end. Karma's a bitch. You'd better watch your fucking back, friend. You'd better watch it good. I'm going to make sure everyone knows what a sell-out and a tool you really are to your younger male friends, so no one else gets hurt by your malevolent pussy ass bitch ways ever again. I hope you sleep soundly tonight knowing how hard you have made Bryan's, Patrick's and my lives in being able to feel secure around women like you do. You use people. You used Patrick. You used Bryan. And you've used me. Who else have you hurt? Cyril, you are a fucking sellout fake. I know I will sleep better after sending this to Patrick and Bryan and even Justin, who will probably just ignore it or tell me to grow up. I hope he doesn't, but don't care. Justin has always been a true friend and a really stand up guy. I have never heard a bad rumor about Justin Smith. I'm not even being hyperbolic this time. I have never heard any one talk shit about Justin. I think it because he's a decent human being. Something you wouldn't know anything about.



The stunt you've pulled. The game you've run. It's going to catch up to you when you least it expect it. And when I hear about what some young man does to you, I'm going to laugh. I don't care what it is. Cyril Lachel. Traitor to young men everywhere. You deserve your comeuppance, pal. I can't wait to hear about it too. I really hope your survive whatever is coming down on you. Because as much as I hate you? No one deserves to feel the pain you have put some good young men through over the years. Even a lowlife like you deserves just the tiniest room to apologize and to wiggle around a little. Even if every one of us knows that if it's coming from Cyril Lachel it's probably just another scam to help his station in life somehow and eventually damage someone else.



I sure hope you sleep well, Cyril. I don't know if there is a Hell. If there is, Satan has a nice toasty fire lit for ya right under your bed tonight. And every night. I sure hope you're comfortable. I hope you sleep like a fucking baby, old "friend". I sure haven't been. But I will sleep well now knowing a lot of people will read this and realize what a greedy selfish worm you are. Take care. Be safe. Thanks for being the greatest FAKE FRIEND a guy could ever want or have. Awesome.



***



I used to get up at 4am to walk to McDonald's to offload truck and then go home, just wanting to relax a bit and sleep. Cyril and Michelle pretty much ruled the roost. While Cyril and she played video games with their friends or together, I felt left out because of my early morning schedules that often dissolved into working open shift and then graveyard, then lunch. I mean, my schedule was pretty much whenever McDonald's wanted me. I didn't have much of a life. My life involved going to work and coming home to Cyril expecting me to do laundry or clean the place while he or Michelle were at work. And sometimes I did. I chipped in when I could. I made a concerted effort to be helpful. But man, I'm telling you. Sometimes I just didn't have the energy. I needed to sleep. I needed to regroup and relax. I needed to study.



I remember Michelle coming home before Cyril and we both just needed to take our minds off work and hang out. We played games, visited. It was cool for a little while. But then Cyril started getting jealous. He would bitch and moan about the laundry not being done or the floor being not vacuumed. Or dishes in the sink. And that was cool. Michelle and I would do a load. We'd wash the dishes and go back to just hanging out and unwinding after work. Then Cyril and Michelle started to fight. They'd go through little stuff and it would blow over. Awkward, but manageable. It was weird, but we all worked through it. Then Cyril started working more hours at Circuit City. He got a promotion. That's when shit started hitting the fan. He wasn't home as much. He'd work late and come home and start being an asshole to Michelle at first. He'd get passive aggressive then started insulting her.



Calling her names. Saying she didn't do her part. And maybe that was true. She was hanging out with her friends after hours where she worked. She had her life. Cyril had his life. And I was there kind of in the middle of it all. Pretty soon, Cyril started making snap judgments on me not doing anything and being really callous and mean. I think he felt like I was becoming too close to Michelle. We were all friends. I wasn't going to try anything. But he appeared jealous for some reason. I never so much as made eye contact with Michelle at some points because that was Cyril's girl and he was my friend and I didn't want him to feel jealous anymore or think I was going to hit on his girl. When he got home, the TV, the computer, the stereo, that was all his. I mean, he owned it all, so when he got off work he wanted to use it all. He'd see me watching a show or working on a project from school online and would ask me every 5 minutes when he could have his computer and TV back. I'd rush, with unfinished schoolwork so he could have his space back, which was pretty much every part of the apartment except my bedroom.



But then maybe I'd have a question or a comment and he'd snap at me and I'd tell him I didn't want to get into their personal drama and was just going to go hang out in my room. So that's where I went. I tended to the herb we were growing in my bedroom closet space and I'd hang out in there. Pretty soon Cyril started having his work friends over. And hey, I was cool with that. No need to be in the picture if he wanted to hang out with his work friends. That was cool. Whatever. Well, as you can imagine, being in my bedroom all day started getting boring. I'd do nothing but hang out with the plant, maybe read a little, so sure. I felt a little left out. I'd go out in the living room and see what everyone was up to. I tried my best to be friendly. And I was. We'd smoke a bowl and hang out. It was actually kind of cool to meet new people. I was shy at first, but I warmed up after awhile. It was fun. But how much can a guy take of Cyril and his friends talking about games I never played or movies I never watched or music I hadn't heard yet? It's not like I wasn't interested, but it started wearing me down. I'd ask questions, I'd get snappy little rude replies and felt like Cyril was intentionally trying to appear cool to impress his friends. Which is only natural. That's what you do if you know about something more.



You spread the knowledge you pick up and spit ball until something sticks. That's how things stay relevant. But I mean, dude. How much of one guy can anyone handle? His friends would yawn and get bored and I'd be left kinda holding the baton when he left the room for a minute. His friends would say what's up to me and I'd say what's up. We'd get to know each other a bit and try to get a feel for each other. Test the waters. See how to keep the conversation going. You know. His friends and I started to visit. But sure enough, Cyril started to get jealous because myself and his friends started to become friends and Cyril would start to become disinterested in me and his friends, who were starting to also become my friends and we would bullshit. I would try to pull Cyril in. He would kind of wave us on. So we'd feel awkward. His friends would pull him in and you know, he'd do his thing, they'd do theirs. I'd do mine. It would be cool. We'd share some laughs. But after awhile it started to become like a competition. He wanted his friends back and I enjoyed their company but saw they were his friends and I'd eventually excuse myself to tend to the plant and do my thing.



It kind of just became what it used to be until they would ask about me. Where's Luke? What's he up to? Cyril, you know... I feel he could have been more inclusive, but I didn't want to feel like the 3rd wheel so I'd see myself out of their shenanigans. But I mean, it started to become awkward again. They would eventually get up and knock on my door and try to roust me out while Cyril kinda just sulked. And I wasn't oblivious to this. I knew he wanted his buddies back and that was fine. They became insistent because, how much of one guy can anyone take? I'd try my hardest to make myself scarce. They'd bug me until I'd join. So I would. Cyril would put me on the spot and he would test me. Try to get them to laugh at me and make me into the heel. I put up with it a little but it would become a bit much so I would excuse myself while Cyril would jibber- jabber about things he didn't like about me or thought were strange and it would force me to confront him, which made the other guy's kinda creeped out. They'd come over less and less.



Cyril would take it out on me and bring up my poor cleaning skills or I'd start running out of cash and would ask for a little of his food to eat (We had separate food areas in the fridge and cupboards. Mistake, by the way.) What was Cyril's was Cyril's and what was mine or Michelle's was also Cyril's because we were constantly running out of food. He made more money than Michelle and I pretty much combined working fast food while he raked it in over at the Circuit City. Michelle and I would either have to beg for something to eat some days, sneak something when he wasn't looking or go hungry that night. He'd notice, of course and would get angry. Michelle and he would argue about small shit that became big shit. He would try to garner my support. I didn't want to get involved. He would call me a traitor. Michelle finally broke up with him. He chased her down the parking lot with hundred dollar bills, begging her to come back.



I think that worked maybe once. The next time, she walked off and caught a bus out because her car had been down in Aberdeen because it had broken down. Cyril and Michelle broke up and I had to be a shoulder to cry on. Eventually, you know, and I don't want to sound like I am being selfish, but it gets a little tiring having to be there for a guy who won't stop crying about his love life, calling her on the phone, to get her back. I had to start living my life. I'd tell him to move on. He wouldn't. Michelle and Cyril would start vying over my attention. Eventually, it became a bit much. I was losing sleep due to the phone arguments and her coming back and forth to check on things and get her stuff and move out. Now, the deal always was that if Michelle or Cyril signed off on the apartment, one of the two would have to pick up the slack. My stake was 1/3rd. That agreement didn't last too long. I eventually was asked to pay half, which I couldn't afford and also keep fed, but hey. I had nowhere else to go and Cyril and Michelle never allowed me to be a co-signer on the lease. So I was stuck. I had to pay the half Cyril requested or live on the streets. And so I paid. I didn't eat some nights. Cyril gorged himself on the food he bought or the constant supplies his mom would give him and I went hungry.



Cyril always delighted in having me watch him play games or watch TV with him while he bitched about Michelle. So I did my best to be a friend. But I felt like he was using me as a rebounder and every time he'd notice me trying to find a way to sneak away, he'd keep asking me, "Are you Sometimes there would be a lull and he would snap, "Are you even paying attention?" I would nod very coyly trying not to give subtle hints of nervousness. I would shift my gaze and look for an exit path. If I started to speak up a little, he would pause and ask what I wanted to say. I would shake my head and try to get the attention off of me. I was nervous. I was petrified of him. No one ever talked to me like he did. It's like he lived in this childlike grown up world with childlike grown up problems. I had no idea how to react. None of the other guys I knew ever talked about their personal life with such gross detail. I was a very shy kid. I didn't have a ton of friends growing up. All I wanted was to get good grades and graduate with a good grade-point average so I could get into a decent college. I was already showing solid A's in Running Start during 11th grade. For a long time I excelled in school and did well at the college level (Running Start). I was often in the top of my percentile.



I guess that's how Justin and I became friends through Cyril. Justin and I had something in common. It didn't hurt that Justin was a little more forthcoming in offering me social tips. He was also warmer. We could talk about stuff relating to class and Justin would show me how the stuff I was learning in class could be applied to the real world. When it came to Cyril, he showed little interest in my interests. He would only appear interested if I brought up music or something else he could expound on. He never made an effort to understand my interests in science or literature. All he cared about or talked about was music or movies or games. And, of course, the current girl he was seeing. It was all about him. I did my best to pay attention to what he was saying because he seemed so cool and confident to me at the time. I thought by watching his lead he could help me meet women. He had girlfriends and these neat things I had never seen before. But that's all they really were to me. Things. Collectibles.



I kept hanging around with him because I thought maybe he would help me talk to girls. Maybe he would let me in on his secret and I would become popular with the ladies by watching him. Plus he could distract me easily with the cool games and movies and stuff. My mental capacity was fairly limited to getting good grades and fawning over girls like a buffoon. I didn't know how to ask for help in this area. It seemed to come so naturally to even my little brother. I would make fun of him for having trouble spelling or doing poor in school because he fared much better in the social scenes. In a way, Seth taught me how to behave around other kids and he quickly realized when he allowed me into his world, I would stop making fun of him in the areas he was struggling with for some reason and he was able to focus on school much better, over time.



When it came to interacting with the other kids, I struggled at best and lost my temper and embarrassed myself at worst, pushing them away. I was clumsy. So I found refuge in my books and found hope in the fantastic. Especially when it came to girls. The girls in books seemed to be tailor made for me. I longed to find one in the real world who would understand me. I didn't realize how many pretty girls actually act in the real world. They were nothing like in the books I read. All the girls in the books I read were so smart and interesting and caring. But in the real world, these smart funny girls were so brutish and ogre like. They weren't pretty. They grossed me out with their skin conditions and overbites and glasses and pimples. I was never mean to them. I just didn't say Hello. The search for the perfect girl who was both smart and pretty was like my holy grail. I couldn't find these perfectly angelic samples of girlhood anywhere but in books and on TV. I really started to wonder about things like God. I would sit in my room a lot and hope I would die, just so I could meet an angel. Women became sort of this impossible problem I could never quite figure out. I would delve deeper and deeper into my books and TV, often not even paying attention to the plot lines surrounding the shows or the other characters. I watched TV just so I could wait for a scene with a smart pretty girl and fall deeper and deeper into kind of a daydream.



I became terrified of ever talking to pretty girls who seemed even remotely interesting unless they talked to me first. Every time I would approach them I had no idea what to say. I would just smile and then stare at my feet. I usually didn't know their names and I thought it was weird for me to blurt out my name by starting with the words "I am" because I saw how these guys were made fun of by the other guys and pushed in the dirt. I usually just helped those guys out of the dirt and asked if they were alright. They would ask me what my name was. I would tell them it was "Lucas" "What's yours, man?" (I called every guy "man" then) They would give me their name. I would say "Cool". After that I was kind of lost. For some reason I would just turn away and bow to empty space or smile weirdly and scratch the back of my head in confusion because I didn't know what else to say. "You're welcome?" "Go play?"



I did say "You're welcome" a couple of times and they would start talking about stuff they were interested in, usually something other than what I was interested in. And the only thing I was ever interested in was, what else? Girls. I usually just let these pushed around guys yack and yack and yack and said "Cool" "Great" "Yeah" "Uh huh" "Gotta go" And walked off, focused on my watch or pen or whatever I was holding at the time like it was the most fascinating thing in the world to me until I noticed I wasn't being followed anymore and took refuge in a tree or rock or whatever was lying around at the time, imagining writing my name on it + some cute girl I was too shy to talk to. I learned later from some of these pushed around guys that they were gay. I'm glad I didn't make fun of them. There's no shame in being gay. I figure the only shame is being a bad person. Those gay kids saved my life. Peter McWilliams was a self help writer I read. I didn't know he was gay until he died. His books were good friends to me.



I knew I didn't want those pushy guys to throw me in the dirt. I imagined what I would say. The only thing I could think of was "You son of a bitch!" Often times just thinking about it made me mad and distracted me thinking about fighting. So time would wear on and if I ever did initiate conversations with girls, typically I would begin by saying her name in the form of a question very boldly and confidently and just nodding. Then and I would smile and look at my feet. Up at the sky. Back at her back to my feet. I didn't know what else to do. They usually just stared at me awhile. I pretended not to notice. I made goofy shoulder gestures, thinking they might laugh. I fidgeted until they said something. "Are you okay?" "Yeah. I'm fine." "Are you sure you're fine? You don't seem fine. What's your name?" "Lucas. I'm Lucas. I uh..." "Okay." "I just..." "Yeah?" "Um. Well, I gotta go." Sometimes they would ask something else like "Gay?" And at first I'd say, "No. My name's Lucas. Who's Gay?" These girls usually just stared at the ground and giggled nervously until I stepped up and cringed, shaking my head like they were weird or something. They were. Or so I thought. All I thought was "Maybe they're Gay and this was a joke or something. I dunno." I didn't even knew what Gay meant. I thought it was a another kid they thought looked like me. I had to ask my mom.



She told me it was when two men loved each other. The pictures flooded my mind. Hadn't even thought how that would be possible but I figured it out in two or three seconds. I just thought, "Ew. Those people are weird." and cringed. Instead of just opening my mouth and saying "Blah!" I smirked and thought, "Whatever. I don't care. Might be weird to me. Maybe some people like that. I think it's weird. I don't fuckin' care. Whatever." This was also the first time I ever thought in terms of swear words. I'm not gay myself, but I have always figured that the world would be a better place if more people were tolerant of others. I don't call people gay like as a substitute for the word Lame or Stupid. Especially in 2010. It always makes me sad when people commit suicide because they feel hated. No one deserves to be hated. Not gay people. Not black people. Not anyone. Bigotry shortly became my biggest pet peeve. In a way, I've used my writing as a crusade against prejudice.



A couple times, I thought the word "Gross" instead of "Weird" when someone would talk about gay sex. I somehow taught myself the word, "Dude" as a response and not just calling your buddies "Dude". Then another funny one, "Wasuuup?" Then I heard this other dude say "Wassuuuup?" And he followed it by another word, well one of two words, If it was "Bro." (Wasssup, brooo?") I had the urge to say, "Nuttin, maynerd. Suppitchoo?" So I did. This was weird because the other word was always "Bra" Now, if the next guy had said, "Wasssuuuup, braaa?" He'd also say "Wanna smoke some weeeed?" And I would say "Sure" and smoke some weed or I was like "What's weed?" And he'd explain it to me and I smoked some weed with him. The other scenario was followed by "Supitchoo?" It was usually followed by the other guy saying, "Noffin, yao." This usually meant he wanted to buy some weed and I knew this so I said, "Sorry. Don't gots." And walked off, usually into a convenience store and bought something. Anyway, I've never sold pot. Just something I never got into doing. Sometimes fear and lack of confidence helps me me stay a little more law abiding, if you know what I mean. Glad some do. Otherwise, how else would we ever get stoned and happy?



I'd usually just walk off again and I'd see a girl I liked. Sit with her. The only thing I could think of to say was, "I love you." but all the guys I talked to about my girl troubles had warned me, "Never tell a girl you love her. She'll think you're weird and she won't like you." "Oh.. uh... okay, I" (I used to be embarrassed to say the world "but" because it sounded like "butt" and made me feel awkward.) "Guess, I'll..." That's where I hit a brick wall. Like I said, no confidence. Bashful. Took me awhile to figure out words like "Later" and "Peace" I think my younger brother taught me "Later" and my older brother taught me the word "Peace" so I frequently exchanged them. I also didn't know that after "Later" I could stand up, brush off my legs and walk away. "Peace" I could follow by a quick raised hand and by bobbing my head a little. It also gave me the liberty to skip my feet and not hear anyone laughing at me. After I learned these gestures and performed them, a quick phrase would enter my mind as clear as a bell. When it was "Later" and the brush off, it was always, "Dude what the fuck was that?" If it was "Peace" and the skip bounce I always thought, "God... found this girl named Gay today. Weird. Wonder what that was all about? Hmm." Apparently I had forgotten what my mom told me and shrugged it off. Sometimes I'd sneeze and say "Blah." In both cases I'd go about my merry way.



***



I liked Michelle at one point. She was nice to me at one time. She even offered to help get me get a job at Arby's if I ever wanted to quit McD's. She would take me out to eat every once in awhile because I could never really afford much more than Ramen. Eventually I took Michelle up on her offer and I quit McDonald's and went to work at Arby's. But there was like a month gap. I came up with an idea to scam some money off a young more game-able version of Ebay. I was desperate. I had to pay rent. It was hard for me to talk to my parents then. To put it mildly, Cyril and my mom didn't see eye to eye on things often. I felt like a douche calling them for anything. So, I stole a little money ($400) from some lady with an online Ebay scam. I ripped her off because I needed to pay half the rent, utilities (the computer and phone I hardly ever got a chance to use) food and to survive. It was also kind of shitty that Cyril wasn't sharing the weed anymore and life sucked. I started to withdraw. I'd spend a lot of time alone crying. Cyril was more or less oblivious and Michelle wasn't helping me from slowly starving to death anymore. I was broke, had no food, wasn't making enough to get a little buzzed or have any fun. All my money went to the increased rent Cyril didn't bother having me co-sign the lease over. Never even offered, even though I was living there. Denied me if I asked. If Michelle or Cyril didn't approve, it didn't happen. If I didn't like it? Too bad. It was this or homelessness. I was too proud to ask for help. I sometimes still have the same flaw. Too proud. So my tactic was to agree to everything they wanted, including not being allowed to bring ketchup into the apartment because Cyril didn't like ketchup or letting any of my friends come up and hang out from Montesano because they had a "suspicious look" (Cyril and Michelle's words).



One of these suspicious looking kids was my buddy Randy Peterman from Montesano High School. He was a cool guy. Popular. Smarter than me. Never made me feel inferior. This suspicious kid ended up studying physics at Washington State University, Pullman. His younger brother Phil was a cool kid too. We used to duct tape him to the wall for fun and see if he could get down. It was random high school shenanigans that Phil seemed to like. He was a weird kid. Phil's also in college studying physics at Penn State. He's working on his Doctoral dissertation on acoustics, which will earn him a PhD in quantum physics in 2012. So. Nice snap judgment Cyril and Michelle. You totally called it. McDonald's and living with you sucked. I wish I never listened to either of you. I'll think better now, when I get a chance to knock down fishy sounding rumors paranoid people start about "suspicious" people.



As I mentioned, I worked at McDonald's and then Arby's. I worked, came home, went to sleep, ate a meager lunch at work, if anything, woke up and did it all again. I had no time to relax. Couldn't afford to have any fun. My only real thrill was payday. If I had any money left, I would get some Ramen to live on and that was pretty much it. I was basically a human sewer rat. The only real fun I would have is if Cyril was having a good day and someone invited him to a party, he might let me tag along so I could have a drink and maybe something to eat, as long as I didn't embarrass him or cling to him too much, because after a hard day of working and not eating, everybody wants to mingle and socialize, right? Yeah right. This didn't last long. I wanted to get my diploma program finished so I could get into college and maybe move on up a little in life. I finally got sick of this routine of working crap jobs just to stay alive while Cyril treated me like his sidekick and lived fairly comfortably, despite the fact that I was on an emotional roller coaster and the only way to go from there was down. I begged my parents to come back home. Begged.



They eventually realized what was happening with Cyril rent-bilking me and cut me some slack. They came and got me. I took my shit and I left. Long story short, I had to get work to pay my parents rent now and ALSO pay Cyril back what I owed him After the dust settled, I owed him a few hundred. My parents and I negotiated him down. He agreed. Everything was cool again. Except it wasn't. I was depressed, anxious, still shy around girls because I had never really gotten a chance to meet any or do anything social for that matter. There wasn't any time. I was working all the time and couldn't eat well. My confidence was shot. I was pretty much a robot for the fast food empire. I had zero life.



In Montesano I worked for my step dad here and there. I washed dishes at the Beehive Family Diner in Monte. What little cash I had extra I would buy booze just to feel uninhibited and have a laugh. I got into LSD from some poor choices of friends. I tripped. I would have fun if I could get away with it. My fake assed friends left me by the wayside because that's what fake assed friends do. I had a break with reality. Started hallucinating even without the acid. My parents insisted I see a shrink if they were going to continue to allow me to live at home with my erratic, emotional and sometimes violent behavior. So I did. We moved to Olympia. I had a few more nervous break downs. Most of 2000-2004 is a blur. Even when I had my own place to live in assisted living by 2003 or 2002, (I'm not exactly sure, to tell you the truth) I was alone. Felt stranded. Smoked weed or drank when I could afford a little. Had trouble concentrating and managing my money responsibly. I spent most days wishing I was dead and this hell was over. I would have night terrors from the drug cocktail of anti-psychotics and anti-depressants I was on.



For a lot of that time I wasn't even really there. I had trouble distinguishing between my own thoughts and the rest of the outside world. I was a ghost. I wasn't slightly aware of who I was or where I was or what was going on half the time. I sort of just drifted in and out of conscious connection to myself and the side effect hallucinations from the medicines. Not to mention the back and forth between the psych units in the hospital and more medication tweaking, I'm not sure I was anything you would call a self-aware human being from late 2003 until maybe mid 2004. I was more like a shell. I had no idea who I was. I certainly didn't know I had anything you would call an identity. I knew who people were and the setting I was in, but I wasn't quite sure if I was imagining my daily experience or if I was in sort of like an underwater bubble with people faintly resembling what I remembered or if they were mythical creatures like angels or aliens. Or gnomes and trolls or something straight out of a horror-fantasy novel.



I became more like a pet. I could respond to my own name after 2 or 3 calls. My behavior was weird. I was basically a pet dog or cat for whomever recognized me as having a name. I probably would have just as easily responded to "Here, boy" or a come here hand gesture, if you had a snack for me to take. I wouldn't be surprised if this is what happened sometimes. The only three intelligent things I could do was sign my name, nod or shake my head with maybe a one or two word response and feed myself. There's something else I'm obviously forgetting. Going to the bathroom. A lot of times I would just find a bush outside and piss on it. I don't know why. It's just what did. I was pretty doped up. I'm surprised I was able to get to a toilet to deficate. Sometimes I didn't even make it that far. I had accidents. I had to retrain myself how to hold my bowels again.



A lot of the time I just didn't care. I didn't have ambitions. I didn't have drives. My mental state was shot to hell. I only taught myself to concentrate again so I could pick up a book. The first thing I read after children's books, was Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert Heinlein. I liked it so much I read it again, cover to to cover, a month later. I also read A Man in Full by Thomas Wolfe because I never got around to Bonfire of The Vanities for some reason. I've heard good things. I also still like kid stories. Humpty Dumpty. Three Little Pigs. I have written some of my own children's literature. My Aunt also writes children's stories. She tells me I should become a children's writer. She really enjoyed a story I wrote called Three Thrown Stones about a little girl who finds 3 different types of rocks and plays with them one sunny day. The stones come to life after she leaves and philosophize about life for a million years. "Stones" is a veiled reference to schizophrenia and learning to cope with symptoms, for children having mental difficulties like I did. Medication side effects are one of those difficulties I've had to cope with, so one of the stones has a visible tremor.



I developed the shakes from meds. I took a side effect med called Proprananol. Tremors made it difficult to sleep at night and do menial taks like hold a fork to eat. I remember one time I had an especially hard time using a fork. After Seth received his Associate's from WSU, in Bellingham, my mom, step-dad and I went to dinner after his graduation ceremony. Seth needed to rest and said he was battling a cold. I'm actually kind of glad he wasn't there to see the events that were to unfold. As we ate dinner, food would stay on my fork about 1 out of every 3 tries because I was shaking so bad. It took awhile to finish my meal. It was one of the most frustrating situations in my recovery. At home or in the hospital I ate a lot of finger food. Now I know why. I would notice people staring. My legs were twitching so much the table and dishes rattled. It was a humiliating experience. I felt like running away and living under a rock. My mom and step-dad didn't notice as much, I think, but I felt like a crying shame. I made in through eventually. Sometimes it's the little things like finishing a meal after an hour of trying to hold a fork that get me through the day. I'm no longer taking medication. I'm proud of myself even if no one else is giving me a pat on the back for wanting to face life without prescription drugs. I don't want to want to develop Parkinson's or Tardive Dyskinesia later in life. I would rather risk death than going through Parkinson's. I struggle with depression some days, but I try to channel it into by writings so I can work though feeling sorry for myself. The hospital is a scary place and I don't want to go back. Someone will have to drag me kicking and screaming. I don't want to have tremors or develop Tardiveness.



While Seth was starting out at WSU, I was in the middle of living at Western State Hospital while my medications were being managed. A home was being looked for so I would have a place to live upon release. Eight months into Western State, I was deemed well enough to go to a new home with daily medication monitoring. I had also developed high cholesterol, an over active thyroid, diabetes, so I took pills to fight all this, as well. I've been living here in Tumwater for 6 years now. I eventually learned how to cut my meds through the internet. I failed once by cutting them out too quickly a couple years back, ending up in a hospital diversion house for a few nights. I was more careful this time. I took my time. I didn't rush.



While in the hospital I called Cyril. I needed to talk to someone or anyone and he was the only one I knew locally. We didn't talk about the being room mates in the late 1990's. It had become a taboo subject. He didn't care that I was starving and had no other time for contact with the outside world unless it was at work or through him. He hiked the rent on me. I had nowhere else to go until I went back home to live with my parents again. I feel like he still owes me an explanation. He has never understood my money woes. He could have easily picked up the tab for Michelle with his higher paying job. He said he would. Then he changed his mind almost as soon as Michelle was out the door. I didn't have a good time being there at that point. I was making minimum wage. I could barely afford to eat as it was. It seems like he would have stuck to his word, but he didn't.



My entire paycheck was going towards my now half of the rent, which used to be only a third. He always had food and could afford to have a little bit of fun. All I did was work. I couldn't afford to do much besides watch him eat and play games. He saved his money by bilking me dry, He also had nice things. I had nothing. He didn't show me any sort of empathy. He just ate and smoked weed. He afforded a better life. All my money went to him. My "rent" supported his lavishness while I had very little food or any fun stuff. I couldn't save any money. I didn't have anything left over from my meager paychecks after paying him. Sometimes I went days without anything to eat. He didn't seem to care as long as he was happy. His greed showed me what a selfish person he really was. He still acts like he's better than I am. How was I supposed to improve my station in life? I worked minimum wage. He had a better job. He didn't care. It was his world. I was just living in it.



I'm glad Patrick is doing better than him financially. Now Cyril knows how it feels to be the little guy. Karma's a bitch isn't it, mate?



All I can really think is...



"I worked my ass off to stay alive, while you ate in front of me and lived comfortably, Do you really think I feel like you are a friendly person, Cyril? I feel sorry for you. You have used me and others for your own monetary and sexual gain. You have insulted me behind my back for the entire time I have known you. You get respect you don't deserve." Cyril Lachel. The best fake friend I ever had.



***



If you're a funny, pretty, smart or interesting girl who read all this...Hi.



If you were ever pushed in the dirt for being different or ignored for not being pretty enough, hang in there. You are loved. I'm not gay, I'm a straight ally. I wrote this for the "It Gets Better Project" because I know what it's like to be ostracized for being different. Sorry it's too long to be posted on the site, but thank you for giving me the chance to write. I've had writer's block lately.



I'm bipolar. Being different is okay. You may feel suicidal now. But it gets better. Not all straight guys or popular people are bigots or as secure as they seem. Don't ever feel like everyone hates you. I don't. I don't hate anyone. Not even this Cyril guy I keep saying I hate. I may not like him very much as a friend anymore, He truly is a talented writer and a funny guy. I just can't be his friend anymore. He pretends to be a straight ally. How can you be an ally when you belittle shy people and refer to them as queer?



I don't think everyone should like everyone. It's just not how the world works. It sucks. Some people are no good. Bad people make good people good though. Bad people help good people rise above. Some people live life just to give good people a reason to be better people. I may not always like everyone. Some people just aren't likable. Always learn to be respectful and tolerant anyway, but don't be afraid to step up to intolerance and disrespect also. Sometimes all it takes is a lifetime. I think it's worth it.



Some people are nothing more than living obstacle courses for stronger people to get over. Follow the golden rule. A lesson older than religion or even the idea of God. The golden rule may be my favorite rule. It's okay to be different. Remember that. I feel like a weirdo sometimes too. I always get over it, even if it's difficult.



It gets better. It gets better. It gets better. I don't know much much I can say it. It gets better. Never feel like suicide is a good option. More people would miss you than you will ever know. It gets better. It really does. Security is being yourself and telling the truth. I wish I knew this sooner but at least I know it now. Hang in there. You are loved. It gets better.





Written for the It Gets Better Project against gay youth suicide. I'm not gay, but I know what it's like when the world sucks. You have my support.
 
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Lucas' Personal Reflection ala 2010:


Dream Girls and Devil Horns

Autobiography of a Manic Depressive Straight Ally

Lucas Werner



My mom has really looked after me since I was diagnosed with bipolar. She likes to set me up and make sure I'm comfortable where ever I'm living. It has been this way since I was first doped with anti-depressants and anti-psychotic drugs. The past couple times she's seemed sad when I've asked how my little
BLAHBLAHBLAHBLAH.

Spoiler that shit, nigga. Way too long.
 
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