I don't consent.

I want to say something before this whole thing gets out of control. In 1967, in the hot desert sun, a woman gave birth to a boy in the back of old pick up. She was a ♥♥♥♥♥. She left the boy at a local church. The father at the church didn't like children, but he knew that being a disciple of the bible he couldn't possibly not take the small kid. Instead he ended up taking out his frustration on the boy. At the age of three, the boy was forced to use the toilet. Let me tell you the little fell into his own pile of poop more than once. By the age of 5, the boy the boy was reading the bible and chopping wood for the fire. Despite the father's harsh character, the boy loved him and thought of him as his true father. By the age of seven the father raped him three times. The boy ran away. He survived four days in the desert by eating cactus and scorpions. He was finally found by a drug cartel boss, who took the boy in. Mr. Sanchez was his name, and he was immediately impressed by the boys intelligence and grown up attitude. Mr. Sanchez provided the boy with an education at a private prep school and a nice house. The boy had sex for the first time when he was 12, the next year he graduated high school. He was the school's star running back. The boy was lost, although he liked Mr. Sanchez, he never thought of him as his father. The boy went to India, were he became a spiritual leader of a large tribe of farmers. With his power he turned the several plots that each tribe member had into a large corporate farm and became a millionaire. His assets grew as he bought into other successful start ups. He often got ahead in business with his great leadership abilities, but once in a while he used violence. This was India after all. By the time he was 22, the boy had all the money he would ever need. So he bought a yacht and traveled the world for 10 years. For 10 years he visited every major port, slept with girls from every country imaginable, and tried every drug ever made (by nature and by man). When he was 33, he was walking on a beach in French Guiana when he met a girl of Irish - Native American decent. She bared his seed. It was boy, perfect health. He moved them to Argentina, then London, and eventually Vermont. The man was 45 now, he has seen everything, accomplished everything, tried everything. He skied down the Swiss Alps, been at the North Pole, swam with hammerheads, everything! Yet he has never done one simple thing that we all take for granted every day, he met his father. He never played catch with his father, he never talked about women with his father. He never would. He died at the age of 63 when his parachute didn't open when he was base jumping from Dagger Mountain in Washington, USA. Over three thousand people attended his funeral.
I know what you are thinking. How does this story relate to me? Well I want you to go all the way back to the beginning of the story and remember the woman who gave birth to this incredible boy. You are like this woman. You are like this women because you are a ♥♥♥♥♥.







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