Onward To 2016!

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Sometimes all you need to fix your soul and situation in life is to pop smoke and get the fuck out of Dodge. In the latter part of 2014, I found myself in Upstate New York because of a temporary job that I couldn’t turn down. After working the gig for a few months, cuts occurred and I was out of purgatory. I then traveled around the North East for a month and settled into a lovely little town that caught my heart named Ithaca.

I arrived on a bus from New York City a little after midnight on a blistering cold February night, toting only a backpack and a small duffle bag. With no friends or family in the town, I set off to start a new chapter in my life and put into place some life principles and habits I’ve been pondering around in my head.

“It’s not the daily increase but daily decrease. Hack away at the unessential.”
-Bruce Lee

I asked myself: What professional principles do I need to ingrain into myself in order to take my writing to the next level and move up the ladder of professional success? What kind of habits do I need to develop in order to become the kind of man I want to be? I figured I needed to do at least two out of four of the following every day:

Work, Work out, Read, and Write.

When I wasn’t sure what to do on a day, I just figured out what I can do in order to make two of these things happen. Did I work my bar job today? Mind too fried to write? I’ll just work out. I need to let my body rest, and I don’t work at any of my jobs today. I’ll read and write.

As simple as it seems, I didn’t always hit the mark. Dates with pretty ladies, random nights of debauchery, riding my motorcycle to visit my Ranger buddies, and at times, the laziness dragon caught me. Yet, those days when I did I hit the mark happened more often than not.

My output with pieces this year was pretty low compared to 2014 when I was pissing off people with sand in their vagina on Thought Catalog and making a name for myself. I began to read and write more poetry and gain a deeper understanding of it. The few articles I did write for Thought Catalog this year I was very proud of.

For This One Day, She Made Me Forgot was one of the hardest pieces I’ve ever written. While other pieces have been tough to write, this one was a deep knife cut per word and each sentence caused tears to pour down my face. I was emotionally drained upon completing it and had one of the deepest sleeps in my life.

29 Things I Learned By 29 showed that I have more going on my head than my quest for fame and pussy. It also has generated the most fan mail for me since The Division of Generation Y. Thanks to Ryan Holiday, I got to interview one of my favorite writers, Tucker Max. It was pretty fucking tits to interview a man I looked up to since I was 19.

“To be an artist means: not to reckon and count; to ripen like the tree which does not force its sap and stands confident in the storms of Spring without fear lest no Summer might come after. It does come. But it comes only to the patient ones, who are there as if eternity lay in front of them, so unconcernedly still and far. I am learning it daily, learning it through pains to which I am grateful: patience is all!”
-Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters To A Young Poet

Those of you who have followed me since my early days have noticed how dramatically my writing style has changed. Those of you who are new, probably have noticed how different a lot of my pieces are from one another. I have never wanted to remain static as a writer. I want to throughly learn, explore, experiment, and develop myself in this art form. Only through constantly pushing myself in new avenues and approaches will I become the versatile, honed, and unique writer I need to be in order to be placed among the greats.

I love writing my panty-wetting, heart-wrenching poetry and essays as much I love writing my politically incorrect, misogynistic asshole rant pieces. They’re just different aspects of my personality.

Women have been the light and bane of my existence. That sums up my attitude toward the fairer sex for this year. I’ve been on dates and had some flings with some very lovely women and have had my heart stomped by a couple.

I have made a good, little life for myself in this small town. A lot of people know my name and face. I have a few cool friends that I hang out with regularly, and I’ve been to a few random college parties. Also, I got fired from one bar job because some chick recognized me while I was working behind the bar and told the owner I wrote a bunch of articles online that are offensive to women. She did me a favor because the owner is a worthless sack-of-shit who was jerking me around and not following through on the promises he made me. I found a better establishment to work at afterwards with an awesome manager who actually does what she says she is going to do.

Solitude was the main theme of this year. Most of my time, I spent alone. I started the process ingraining the principles of success into my life: Running the hills of Ithaca in the snow, reading poetry by Charles Bukowski and Edgar Lee Masters, watching every single documentary on war I could find on YouTube, putting my mind at peace by riding my motorcycle, swimming in Cayuga Lake, slinging drinks, and writing.

“You cannot repress anger or love, or avoid feeling them, and you should not try. But you should be careful about how you express them, and most important, they should never influence your plans and strategies in any way.”
-Robert Greene, The 48 Laws Of Power

You can expect more output from me in 2016 than in 2015. I needed to take a step back and reconsolidate my life. I have also been working on a project that I will I announce when I feel appropriate. I have found a serenity within myself that has allowed me to tame some of the demons that have held me back. Thank you for your continued support, and I cherish every single one of you for reading my words. Onward to 2016!

~Raul Felix

Read: Onward To 2014
Read: Onward To 2013
Read: 28 Things I’ve Learned By 28

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To My Future Wife: I Will Make You Proud To Have Me As Your Man

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I write this poem for you because I am lonely.
I write this at this moment because I don’t know who you are,
Or even the prospect of who you may be.
I write this because I need to give myself hope,
To write some words that I desperately need to get out of my system.

Each day I work on myself.
Not just to make myself and my life better,
Also to be better for you.

I work on myself so when the time comes,
I am able to catch your attention and interest,
I am able to impress you with who I am,
I am able to show you I am worthwhile,
I am able to make you proud to have me as your man.

Some days, I struggle and I lie in my bed.
Feeling sorry for myself,
Feeling angry and frustrated,
Feeling defeated, worthless, cheap, dumb, and gullible.

Yet there is this fire inside of me,
I know I can’t just lie there.
I have to continue on my trek to success.
I work hard to make the money to establish myself,
I work out to create a strong body for both your pleasure and protection.
I read in order to increase my wit, intelligence, and knowledge.
I write in order to keep myself sane and develop my true talent.

I want to be a good man.
I want to be good at being a man.
I want to be a good enough man for you.
All of this takes time.

You’re out there; I believe that.
I make you this promise:
No matter how many fake numbers and false starts,
No matter how many flakes, ditzes, sluts, and users I deal with,
No matter how emotionally beaten I become,
No matter how many disappointments or heartbreaks in the process;
I will find you.

When I do,
You’ll be glad to find out about me,
I am a man with the mental fortitude to endure all games,
I am a man with the drive to shrug off rejections with a smirk,
I am a man who is willing to put in the hard work to win you,
I am a man who doesn’t quit.

One day you’ll find this poem among my collections.
I wrote it not knowing who you are,
Yet knowing you exist.
In order to defeat cynicism and hopelessness,
To reignite that flame inside myself,
To move forward another day,
Take another step,
To becoming the man you’ll fall in love with.

~Raul Felix

Read: She May Have Given Up On You
Read: She Wouldn’t Make Me So Angry If She Didn’t Own My Heart
Read: 6 Ways Women Have Rejected Me

Read more of my work at Thought Catalog
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I Miss Those Saturday Nights

I miss those Saturday nights,
Where we would lie in bed,
Laziness consuming us.
Yet, we had planned an exciting night out.

“We’ll start getting ready in five minutes,” I say.
“OK,” you respond as you press your nose into my chest.

Fifteen minutes pass.
We’re still wrapped up in each other’s arms.
“Alright, we’re getting up now,” I declare.
A few seconds pass… then I sit up.
You follow.

You get up from the bed and slowly put on a skirt.
Then I reach for your arm and pull you on top of me.
“I thought we were getting ready,” you say.
“We are…,” I say as I feel up your body.

We would be back where we were before,
In each other’s embrace.
Maybe next Saturday night.

~Raul Felix

Read: Empty Chair
Read: For This One Day, She Made Me Forget
Read: Becoming A Beast May Help You Win The Beauty

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What Basic Bitches And Bros Think About Dating Profile Pics

Online dating—whether it be Tinder, Plenty of Fish, or OKCupid—appears to be stacked in favor of women because all they have to do is not be ugly, and hordes of men will send them a message consisting of either:

A. An uninspiring “Hey” that showcases his laziness and inability to begin a stimulating conversation.

B. A longwinded first message that has been perfectly crafted to show sincerity, wit, and/or humor to pique her interest. (He has also been carpet-bombing every chick who’s crossed his path with the same message.)

C. Unwarranted, unoriginal, highly sexualized messages referring to BDSM and hyper-aggressive male dominance, because chicks totally dig that Fifty Shades of Grey shit from random guys who have a shirtless bathroom #selfie that shows the toilet in the bottom-right-hand corner.

D. Dick pic ambush!

There are certain types of pictures that highlight a woman’s fine qualities and make a man hope that she’ll take a risk on true lust by swiping right. Others will make him reconsider her a bit, but then he will decide she has a nice rack and swipe right anyway. Here are five types of such pictures:

1. Sticking Her Tongue Out

Basic Bitch Thinks: “This will show that I am a silly person and I don’t take myself too seriously. Look at how much of a goofball and dork I am. LOL!”

Basic Bro Thinks: “That bitch’s mouth looks like it sure know its way around a dick, and I know she’s eager to get sloppy all over mine. She is presenting that sweet tongue as an approved target for ejaculation. I’m going to send her a dick pic.”

2. A Group Picture With Her Besties

Basic Bitch Thinks: “We all looked so hot at Becky’s bachelorette party. A guy will totally notice how sexy and classy I looked in that black dress. I just love how my bangs looked. My boobs look a bit bigger, too. Oh no! I’m holding a lollipop that’s shaped like a penis. I’ll just crop that out. Sorry I have to cut you out, Lindsay #notsorry. Caption: BFFFFFFFFFFFFs<3.”

Basic Bro Thinks: “What the fuck is up with bitches making a group picture their default picture? Now I have to check the rest of her pics to figure out who she is. Oh, fucking great! The next pic is of her and thirteen of closest BFFs. Oh please fucking God, don’t let it be the fat chick I’ve seen in both pictures.”

3. Picture Of Her In A Bathing Suit

Basic Bitch Thinks: “I so love the beach, biaaaatch. All that working out has paid off. Even so, I hope boys will like me for my brains and not just how good I look.”

Basic Bro Thinks: “I want to skull-fuck her until her brains spill out of her ears.”

4. Picture With Her Holding An N64 Controller

Basic Bitch Thinks: “I’m such a nerddddddd!”

Basic Bro Thinks: “Who the fuck still plays N64?”

5. Picture From An Extremely High Angle While Pressing Her Boobs Together To Make Them Look Bigger While Concealing Her Protruding Gut

Basic Bitch Thinks: “I really have let myself go. Goddamn lack of exercise since college and Netflix marathons where I eat all the ice cream. Ben and Jerry’s solves all wounds—even broken hearts. I’ll just show off my huge breasts and no guy will ever notice.”

Basic Bro Thinks: “While I want to use those boobs as pillows, I know she is hiding a gut underneath them because chicks are shady like that. More than likely, I’m going to take her out and be horribly disappointed, but since I’m already committed to the date I’ll let it go on. Then I’ll drink until I don’t really care about the gut anymore and fuck her without a condom because condoms fucking suck. Then the next day I realize I made a mistake and buy her a Plan B because there is no way I’m going to fucking let this fat fuck produce dream-crushing offspring with my DNA. Goddamn it, that shit costs $50! Fuck. I’m going to send her a dick pic to make sure she’s DTF. Bitches love unsolicited dick pics.”

~Raul Felix

Read: The Pick-Up Follies: Taqueria Hottie
Read: Guy Talk: Animal Love

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Shards Of Broken Glass Scattered On The Kitchen Floor

“See how pretty this bottle is?” she said holding a beer bottle.
She then slams it on the kitchen floor.
Glass shards scatter. She walks to the dining room and sits down.
“That bottle will never be as it was, no matter what you do. It will cut you.”

“This hot one moment, cold the next bull shit you put me through,” I ask “It’s going to be an on going thing isn’t it?”

She nods. “I will never be who I was. I’m as broken into little bits as that bottle. I’m beautiful but I will cut you, again and again.” She sits with her knees to her chest, arms wrapped around.

“Fuck,” I lay on the floor. Alternating my eyes between her and the glass. “I will want to love and hold you. Your coldness and emotional withdraws will eat me alive. I can’t… I won’t put myself through that.”

Silence consumes the room for a while.
“What does this mean for us?” I ask.
“It means you’re free,” She replies.
“I always was. But, I’m fucking here tonight.”

“Can I kiss you?” I ask.
“Yes,” she replies.

~Raul Felix

Read: She Had The Body Of A Greek Goddess
Read: Watching You Get Dressed Again

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The Lights of Los Angeles Loom

My seventy-five Camaro is speeding along at eighty-five on the one o’ one.
I keep my eyes on the freeway, occasionally looking toward the passenger seat.
My left hand on the steering wheel,
My right hand rubbing the pussy of a bald headed, beautifully tattooed, big breasted vixen.
I look to my right,
The lights of Los Angeles loom.

I hear her purr as I’m working her up,
She begins to thrash a bit, causing me to slip out my lane by a foot.
Her purr becomes a moan.
She pulls my hand, sticks my fingers in her mouth, tasting herself.
I look to my right,
The lights of Los Angeles loom.

It’s as if I am a dashing hero in a movie,
This would be where I would narrate my thoughts,
Music from an elite orchestra filling the air,
A warm California breeze tossing my glorious hair about.
Maybe an epiphany of some sorts will hit me,
As I feel her warm, wet femininity with my fingers.
Maybe this is just another night in my life,
With no revelations or grand lessons,
Just enjoying the touch of a gorgeous woman,
As the lights of Los Angeles loom.

~Raul Felix

Read: She Was Travelling Through My Country
Read: Keep Moving, Young Man

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She May Have Given Up On You

You lie on your bed with your face buried into the pillow.
Churning over the events that led to the demise of your latest tryst.
Another one lost, another flake, another you thought would be different.
Another girl masquerading as a woman.

You don’t feel attractive, you don’t feel worthwhile, you don’t feel missed or longed for.
You work up the energy to look out the window of your downtown apartment.
You see a scrawny, low-life holding hands with a fine ass bitch.
“Why do I even bother trying to be a good man?” You wonder.

You walk to the fridge and take a peek inside.
Empty of food with a few beers left over from a previous night of boozing.
You consider drinking them all then heading out to the bar.
You close the door without a drink in hand.

You walk to your laptop and put on some motivational music.
You change into your workout clothes.
“Fuck her,” You say out loud. “Fuck her!”
She may have given up on you, but you won’t give up on yourself.
You tie the laces of your sneakers and head out the door.

~Raul Felix

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She Held Her Newborn Daughter In Her Arms

She held her newborn daughter in her arms.
Tiny, delicate, pink, precious, amazing, perfect.
Dead.

They had just met! How could this be?
She thinks back to the moment she found out it was a girl.
The possible names she and her husband considered,
How she would examine and caress her ever growing belly,
Eager to meet the little person who was growing within.

What kind of person would have her daughter been like?
What would have her voice, tantrums, and laughter have sounded like?
What would have been her first word?
What would have been her favorite toys, songs, and activities?
This she will never know.

She held her newborn daughter in her arms.
Beautiful, pure, lovely, light, innocent, soft.
Dead.
She isn’t ready to have her leave this embrace,
She holds her a bit longer.

She sees a dove flying as she walks out the hospital,
That little piece of herself is gone,
Will she ever be whole again?

~Raul Felix

Read more of my work at Thought Catalog
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For This One Day, She Made Me Forget

She met me at an English pub in Toronto.
It had been almost two years since I’d laid my eyes on her.
She walked through the door, saw me, hugged me, and sat at the bar.
She was as pretty as I remembered.
Pale skin, petite frame, curly hair, freckles about her face.
My ex-girlfriend.

We talked awkwardly at first,
My legs were shaking, my hands flailing in conversation,
I was stuttering and mumbling.
It was tough to resist the urge to kiss her right away.
I deeply wanted her.

We slowly grew comfortable with each other again.
Talked, teased, and flirted like we used to.
I went in for a gentle kiss,
I looked into her eyes,
Then I pulled her close for another.
Her lips had a calming effect on me.
We ate dinner and though she was hesitant,
She agreed to go back to my place.

The next morning I awoke to her by my side.
She was wearing my T-shirt, work-out shorts,
Her hair a mess, reading glasses, and no makeup.
Beautiful.
She was watching a TV show on her laptop,
I scooted closer and lost myself in her.

It’s as if the past two years never happened.
I was back in her room in Jerusalem.
Where the winter cold would cause her to seek my body for warmth.
Where the summer heat would have us waking up in sweat.
Where her cat would attack my feet in the middle of the night.
Where we would take long walks exploring the streets, bars, restaurants, sites, and parks.
Where she grew to understand me more deeply than any woman has.
Where Orthodox Jews, Muslims, soldiers, tourists, pilgrims, merchants, and stray cats appeared on all corners.
Where she was mine.

We got ready and headed out for the day.
I felt it in my chest,
A dam of repressed emotions,
Finally allowed to be free,
I would win her back.
We will have new memories, new inside jokes,
New adventures, new fights, a new life.
She’ll be mine again, and I’ll never let go.

It hurt her to say,
That she no longer felt the same way.
It hurt her to say,
That she could no longer see herself with me.
It hurt her to say,
That she was sorry but needed to make the best choice for herself.
It hurt her to say,
That she didn’t love me anymore.

I walked her to the subway station,
Held her close, kissing her forehead.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
She nodded.
“I really do love you,” I said.
She looked up at me.
“You don’t have to say it back,” I told her.

She boarded the subway,
I saw her through the window,
Never taking my eyes off her,
I waved at her and she waved back,
As the cart left
I blew her a kiss.

As I walked, tears I’d held back started rolling down my face.
For this one day,
I possessed the happiness I once had,
For this one day,
Life seemed full of possibilities,
For this one day,
I had felt whole again,
For this one day,
I had forgotten I was alone.

~Raul Felix

You can read more of my work at Thought Catalog.

She Was Traveling Through My Country

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She was traveling through my country.
Olive skin, long silky hair, deep brown eyes,
full lips, quirky smile, physique of a Disney princess.
We walked down Hollywood Boulevard,
sharing bits and pieces of ourselves,
she was interested in my experiences, my family,
my ideas, my writing, and my goals.
In me.

She was traveling through my country.
She carried herself with dignity, but without pretension.
sweet with a biting wit,
She gave me half her dinner and bought me a beer.
Every time she spoke, my heart melted.

She was traveling through my country.
She had a man back home whom she respected.
Though she couldn’t be mine that night,
she gave me something more valuable:
Hope.
That the type of woman I desire does exist,
That I am able to get her attention and interest,
That all the work I’ve put into myself is paying off.
She was traveling through my country.

~Raul Felix