Maybe Suicide IS the Answer

“Fuck you”

“There was once a story and around me I see plenty.

“I never would have thought there wouldn’t be one for me.”

“Never thought I’d be the one to cut down the family tree”

I’m scribbling on the chalkboard that’s in my head. I keep writing and erasing similar sentences. They just don’t come any closer to cracking this open. This isn’t what I want to say.

There’s a voice that’s screaming, carried to and fro upon the winds. It’s not mine. It is of a pain that’s not mine. Where is it coming from? Why can’t I find you,

whoever you are.

I turn over again, looking back at the clock for what seems the thousandth time in an eternal night. It’s still 3am. It’s been 3am for months. Or years- I can’t recall how long I’ve actually been here. I can’t bring to mind what I’ve done with all the time. I reach over for the little orange pill with the skull, pop another in my mouth, take a long swig from a bottle, and roll back over to stare at the little weeping angel above me.

I’m scrawling on my skin with red ink. I can’t find the right spot on my body to write what’s eating at me inside when my brain is screaming again. My sleeve is torn where I already bear a scraggled, twisted heart. I’ve finally run out of room.

I throw myself down into the icy waters and sink to the bottom. I lie there, studying the world’s dim light refracting through the ocean around me. Everything is silent here. Here, I’m OK. as long as I can hold my breath, which today is much longer than it should be.

I hold the knife to my throat again. The days are carved into my chest, just where you can’t see. A drop of blood and I remember what it is to be alive, but a river could never say the proper words.

I’m fumbling with the lock- the one that holds these chains together that are digging deeper, embedding into my skin. If I could just reach it.

I press the barrel to my temple and pause for the hundredth time. I study the weight of the instrument in my hand, and softly whistle a few notes to myself. Just one nerve impulse away.

All I need is once.


Don’t Read this Post


There’s really no way to sugar coat it-

Today was fucking shitty. 

So I’m just going to bitch about it, because that’s what this cyber space may actually be for- or at least on Fridays it is.
Due to my body’s idea that it would be awesome to keep me up all night by sneezing every 4 1/2 minutes- I had the worst migraine of my life all day today, of which no number of painkillers, wishful thinking, or accessory drugs even touched. Days like today I’m reminded just how much the chronic headaches and exhaustion consume and color everything an even darker black; how much more tolerable the world is in the hours that it’s not there, and how difficult it is to remember in the middle of pain what oxygen feels like.

Turns out I that actually came down sick with some influenza virus in addition to the usual. No big deal, only that it’s strange being that I haven’t been sick with just a simple virus in probably 4-5 years. Being sick makes me feel 16 again- my second least favorite age. I was always catching something then, and I can’t help but wonder if my immune system sucked so much as a result of feeling powerless after being stuck for four months in a UCLA juvenile neuropsych ward; I loathe even the memory of that next year of trying to get myself back together.


So after an agonizingly long, useless day there’s always Tomorrow (and if there’s not, then no loss) and just the same, tomorrow I know I’ll do everything that I can.

But Damn, do those days add up–    the ones that feel like a waste and that maybe all I am afterwards is older.
I welcome the turn to fall; given that I’m hot blooded and cold- hearted- Summer usually feels like being perpetually trapped in a beat up, black Jeep in the sun with no AC. No personal experience there… Navigating the summer with a fever doesn’t make things any easier. Yet fall always reminds me of when I used to just sit outside the old Conkey’s coffee shop at the little round table with the short, rickety leg and caffeinate myself until my brain stem told me I was adequately manic, about to have a seizure, or actually did- though even I have better ways to spend my time than in the ER again.


The winds always take me back to high school when I would ditch class and go sit in the school attic reading the dark novels a Christian school rather discouraged. I miss sitting there, watching the wind and actually not feeling guilty about doing nothing. There’s something about the chaos in the winds that I’ve long found soothing- and living in the valley of the Winds, there’s plenty of it.
The distinct aroma on the winds of dried leaves and peppermint chapstick, along with all those deranged pumpkin-spice-fuckin-everything people walking around; it all once made me feel as if there’s was a strange feeling of temporary okayness despite the inescapably coinciding sense that it’s all fucking pointless anyways.
I was disappointed that after the couple of good days, another bad week followed. But I’m really trying to not get stuck in the same thought patterns- but to create, think on, and really believe bringing a new chapter in my life. As much as I perhaps shouldn’t voice it- it’s obviously more easily said than made true heart knowledge and faith. It often feels like trying to convince myself that even though it’s been raining for the last 1,430 days that it’s going to be clear and sunny next Tuesday. I keep running into my own quantifiable doubt.

I seriously need some help believing here.


So on one of those good days, I decided that I was going to go back to church for the first time in over three years. Honestly, after everything, church doesn’t exactly evoke excitement within me, but I figured at least I could meet some decent people there, and if I continued to feel well could make a friend, or at least something of similar resemblance. Despite being ushered up to a front row, I was lucky enough to not be recognized by most old acquaintances.
I know, I don’t recognize me either. 

Though after a few looks, Caden’s family recognized me and we talked for a bit. Maybe God did hear me when I said I was finally done praying for him, because they told me when and how everything went down and after it all, he’s home and OK. Now let’s hope that it’s my turn.

Riding On the Wings of the Morning



I’m feeling seriously uninspired and don’t feel like writing.

Or talking.

Or breathing.

But I’m committed to unblocking this throat chakra.

I can barely contain my enthusiasm. 

Let’s see…
Still going out to the frequency healing center every couple days. The visits thereafter mostly consist of sitting in a cushy armchair for a couple hours at a time, with electrodes on my wrist, or chest, etc. What feels like electricity pulsing though my chest is rather interesting. There’s also a working Tesla coil, which was intriguing to be able to experience the tangible energy pulsating through the air- though I kept losing track of my intention,

for reasons. 

I thought it rather peculiar how people come in through there to get their frequencies like it’s their daily cup of coffee. At times, sitting in the little white brick room with no windows for hours can make me rather restless, especially when the lights are also dimmed- though it’s definitely nothing complaint-worthy. I’ve met a handful of people with everything from Lyme to Cancer- mostly claiming that after as much as 40 years of searching for relief, that Mr. Beautiful Human is the only person who has been able to help (or cure) them. So I guess I’ll stick with this kind of voodoo for now.

I can’t help but still think about this particular older couple I spent a couple hours next to. She came in looking very badly- practically carried into the room. When she came around a bit more, they were discussing what to get for dinner- A fairly mundane conversation- yet I was so taken aback by the way that they Interacted, and the way he spoke to her was so remarkably telling that they’d been together a lifetime. His speech was calm and compassionate, most markedly devoid of the subtle exasperation that I typically hear in people’s words towards someone consistently not feeling well- and I’ve been around a lot of sick people. Given, perhaps he’s not always like that- but his wife allayed that suspicion. It was just something that brought up many vivid memories for me.  I couldn’t help but interrupt their discussion of steak to shake his hand and tell him,

“You Sir, are the possessor of a dying temperament. Keep it up,” and laugh because I probably looked like a sentimental sap.

He grabbed me by the shoulders, looked me in the eyes and said “Everything’s going to be OK. You’ve got a great mind that someone’s going to love. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise- you’ve got this.”

                                  OK old man, please don’t make me cry anymore. 👌

So the nosey little imp that I can be when it comes to personal stories- I found out that they’d been together for 48 years- since they were 20, and she had been severely ill with Lyme disease for 40 years before coming there. Her immune system and consequent health was further destroyed by the years of intense antibiotic regimes she had been prescribed for the Borrelia spirochetes- a thing I thankfully had refused to do, despite minor opposition. When her husband left the room she echoed many of the things I’ve said myself, regarding suicidality, self-guilt, a lot of broken relationships due to misunderstanding, and feeling like a burden- weighing down the potential life of her tirelessly patient husband.


As far as results from the frequencies, I must say that I did feel better after the very first treatment even. I woke up the next morning pain-free, clear- headed, and full of a fidgety, positive energy. My fever was down a degree, and I didn’t have any nausea. It was amazing to have even a couple days of feeling more normal than I have in a long time.


I couldn’t believe- is this how people actually feel?
Because it was fucking amazing.
I realized then that I seriously had forgotten what it felt like, to just be OK; to be able to be in control my own mind and body, instead of one or the other severely crippling my ability to do even the simplest thing without extensive effort or impairment.                                        I understand now why most people don’t understand me- or think that they do and therein attack me for whatever spiritual/emotional malady I supposedly have that week. For the last couple years I’ve continually asked and examined myself for in the case that I was simply losing discipline, self control, or becoming a generally weak person. I see now that the reality isn’t such, but is that slowly, insidiously; what I’ve been pushing through has really become that much heavier to bear.

Unfortunately, the bad days came back after those few good days- but I’m trying to believe that it’s a process with setbacks and that I’ll continue to regain my health and independence. But at least in those couple days I was finally able to gain some lucid perspective and strengthen my own resolve to fight for myself.

The Science of Magic


I splashed some water on my face, took a deep breath, and got my shit together.

I guess the human body is a lot like life-  all falling apart at once, or all falling into place at another (or at least my life has always been that way). One faulty cog in a machine…Yet I keep feeling that if my shit were to come together again in any recognizable semblance- that it would all happen very quickly in the reverse of the way that it un-happened. At least I sure hope and pray so.

Sparing a great majority of the personally intriguing details of what the magical energy scan revealed about me; my adrenals and thyroid were all fucked up again, see-sawing between hypo and hyper function as always; which explains why I’ve  been known to either live my life in the darkest, dankest basement of suicidal ideation, or standing on the top of a mountain- no real inbetweens. The scan also picked up on the few viral organisms I had already suspected; of which he confidently assured me that the frequencies would get rid of and balance everything.                               I tried to conceal my skepticism.

“You have a pain in the back of your neck,” he half asked, half stated.

“Yeah, actually I’ve had it- and consequentially a terrible headache- for somewhere around 8 months to a year; The details eventually all just blur together,” I replied.

“Alright, let’s take a look at your energy and emotional states.”

“You really don’t want to see that shit,” I laughed.

“Blocked abdominal energy meridian.”

“Double hernia surgery when I was 7- it’s been proposed that they nicked a Vagal nerve.”

“It says you have some kind of extreme fear of analysis, surgery; vulnerability. I would guess the pain in your neck is caused by the blocked energies from trying to suppress memories of being hurt by people close to you, when you were vulnerable. You’re afraid to be honest with people anymore.”

No shit- it’s only happened in the majority of human relationships I’ve had throughout life, like some kind of sick theme to teach me a lesson I just don’t seem to learn. OK, it sounds like pretty garden- variety emotional issues, but regardless; he was freaking dead-on.

“I know I need to be a more light, optimistic individual. I want to be. I just don’t know how to change my beliefs about the future, especially against what I’ve observed over the past 4 years. I wasn’t always like this.” I looked down.


He handed me the electrodes again, said everything would be fine, and that he was going to correct the frequencies and feed them back; and while he was at it, he was going to get rid of the pain in my neck and head.

“This may hurt a little,”he said,”though I’m sure you’ll find that somehow therapeutic.”

Gee, how did he know.

He pulled out something that looked exactly like a remote control, with metal bars across the back side. He placed it on the back of my neck, and it felt something like a cross between electricity and little pins in my neck; and when he stopped my pain was instantly gone. My neck felt amazing! However, I guess I won’t be buying one for at home, because when I asked him what it was he informed me that it cost about as much as a luxury car.

After about another hour of sitting holding the electrodes, he got a tub of water, placed a frequency in the water, and had me put my feet in it; saying it was to finally detox everything. I  seriously thought he was pulling one over on me because over the next twenty minutes the water slowly turned a into a thick, particulated black- I mean what the fuck, I was carrying all that shit around? I was sure that he had put something in the water beforehand, though he denied any  trickery when I said that I was on to him. Yet when I later asked the acquaintance who had referred me there and told them what had happened, they freaked out and said that it wasn’t normal.

Soooo, I guess highly advanced technology is indiscernible from magic.

All that fancy technology shit aside; does it work? Is there anything to quantum healing? Because I’m always skeptical when it comes to anyone who’s being paid. All I could say immediately afterward is that I felt really weird. 

I decided to schedule another appointment- at that point mostly because I liked talking to him and have close to no life; but by the time I got home I started to notice that my body felt different- I had a strange light, floating feeling in all of my extremities and felt like my arms and legs had lost a ten pound weight from each. My brain even felt a strangely indescribable way I couldn’t identify.  I tried not to get too excited or overthink anything, at least not for the night.



Part 2, Quantum Heartbreak and the World’s Tiniest Cello

…         He presented rather compelling video proof of an AIDS cure; free, self restoring, non combustible energy; surgery without incision; telomere extension; intriguing speculations into the nature of cancer; and ultimately countless potential factors that begged further research into why such technologies aren’t being utilized- though to answer that I suppose all one would have to do is follow the money. It’s long bothered me and seemed bad enough to give power the benefit of the doubt that the entire economic system was broken by ignorance- yet worse to affirm the suspicion that it was built to be-and remain– broken.

He explained that he used vibrational frequencies, based on the works of Roland Rife, to detect and destroy the cells of the microorganisms behind the large majority of disease- as well as high electromagnetic, sound, or light frequencies to support the bodies own regenerative abilities and homeostasis. Considering the amount of research I’d been doing for some time into quantum theory and it’s implications, it sounded more legitimate than just continuing to achieve alpha meditative states to try and heal the otherwise impossible. I’d heard much crazier claims (autonomic regeneration of the unthinkable) and the more I learn, the more I see that the unexplainable is usually the most effective cure- as well as often the most immediately relevant state in life. But I’m still always struggling to explain everything- to reconcile it with rationality.

Anyways, I finally interjected to propose my own seemingly- inconsequential theories on quantum entanglement (something that particularly fascinates me in its daily manifestations)- and felt rather foolish that I had overlooked an answer so obvious in trying to figure out not only how atomic entanglement occurs, but HOW in the world such phenomena can happen in two particles that have never had spacial contact- independent of divine intervention. He reminded me that energy is never created nor destroyed: so of course the particles of my person have been around- though in separate senses- since the beginning of cellular division and time. Imagine how many millions of times entanglement could occur before any of us come along.

A long rant’s summary- I’ve been trying to figure out why it is that we can have such a strange connection or correlating life events with people that we’ve never previously met?

How does intuition work and how can we so naturally know or experience the state of a loved one, or gain insight into the future? Why do we have sympathy pain at an unknown distance?

Fucking fascinating.

Though I’m sure that I just bored the living hell out of someone. You’re welcome.

After my self- imposed rabbit trail, the scan he was running with the electrodes was done, and he read down the list on his computer screen:

“Your liver and kidneys are rather functionally  disturbed and having a hard time.”

Yep. I was in liver failure three years ago, with problems on and off ever since. My kidneys have been pissed for a while, and more recently working very poorly.

“You have hardening/ narrowing of the arterial veins, and your heart is…”he trailed off. “Well, it’s not important- we can fix it.”

The heart/vein thing was no surprise either- given that’s not the first time I’ve been told that.

“It’s fine, you can tell me. I already know I have an open Mitral valve- though I’ve no idea why the fuck I would have hardening veins- it must’ve been all those goddamn vegetables and plyometrics,” I laughed.

“It says here your heart woke you up last night, beating very irregularly. Did you have dizziness, nausea, tight chest, pins and needles?”

“Yes, all of that.”

OK, naming vital organs and just saying they’re fucked up is easy, but WHOA. 

“And I don’t know where-or whom- you got these “bugs” from..” he stopped and gave me a funny look over the top of his laptop. I looked over at the Buddha and tried not to turn red.

“it’s cool, we’ll take care of it.”

“Such brash confidence,” I countered with a sarcastic smile.

I kept biting on the inside of my cheek, trying not to clench my teeth like I do when I’m stressed. Life shouldn’t be so goddamn complicated and difficult just to stay relatively healthy enough to function a little.  I swear, a little petrochemicals and my body thinks it’s the Armageddon. I felt like crying again- I couldn’t stop thinking about the cumulative weight of everything that had brought me here- when I had thought that by now I would be the one behind the desk for once. I know everyone has problems and appearances can be deceiving and all; but as cliche as it sounds: I couldn’t help but feel sad just looking at the handsome, seemingly successful, confident, Hollywood actor (as I had put together that he actually was as well )sitting in front of me. I couldn’t help but clench my jaw- trying not to cry like I always do- at the way he lit up, speaking about everything with such a lively passion and conviction; just the way I did, what seems like an entirely foreign lifetime ago.

I felt the familiar gnawing that I would never fit in anywhere- much less ever in the attention of someone who was of actual interest to me (as increasingly few and far between they become). I was just my melancholy countenance, though he wasn’t entirely clueless as most to that fact- either it was my grey eyes or I didn’t properly clean off my smeared, running eyeliner that gave it away. I overheard the blonde lady at the front desk saying something about my eyes when I briefly stepped into the other room.

To be continued

My Life is Stranger Than Fiction part 1

           So for a while now- for the sake of simplicity- I’ve simply referred to any random attack of constellatory symptoms as an “episode”. Well, much as waking up throughout the night with nonspecific doom is a regular occurrence- I was a tiny bit unsettled at the other night’s 3am waking. I was having a dream where I was writhing on a cold concrete floor, suffocating- with a strange spinning sensation all the way down my gut. I’m often aware of the fact that I’m asleep and yell for someone to wake me up, but eventually I started to wake on my own to find myself clawing at my headboard, still having some difficulty breathing. Now I’ve frequently experienced incidences of respiratory suppression- but this time I felt my heart beating inordinately erratically; numbness and tingling in my extremities, dizziness, and chest pain. I couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen even after getting up and walking around for a while.

        Eventually I ignored the vague uneasiness and got back to sleep, but woke up with my entire body covered in red dots and all of my skin was a strange hue with a peculiar pattern of leopard spots or something. I concluded it wasn’t chickenpox but continued to break out in random hives all day (again). 

That was it. 

It was time to try something different yet again, which probably meant another doctor- of which filled me with dread after the countless awful experiences I’ve had with many of them. 

      I remembered the energy healing type practitioner an acquaintance had made mention of. Concluding that it sounded more like unexplainable voodoo shit than another DSMD, I decided it was a great idea, made an appointment for that afternoon, and immediately headed out there.       

          Pulling up, I was briefly puzzled to see the tiniest little shabby, white, single-room looking building, sandwiched and nearly hidden between a construction site and brick wall. There were absolutely no identifying markings or signs, save for the number out at the curb. 
“I don’t know, looks more like a drug front,” I laughed. 
Oh well, either way- win/win.

            Inside, it was an empty waiting room with a very markedly clean energy; white walls, a few black leather coaches, a mostly empty desk and the largest quartz crystal I’d ever seen, lying across a coffee table. It took a little bit for a thin, blonde lady to come in and notice I was in the waiting room. I assumed that the practitioner was going to be some little old lady along the lines of the usual. Pretty soon, in walks one of the most beautiful human beings I’d ever seen.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,”
I muttered under my breath.

            He was probably about 30 years old, 6ft, medium length black hair, blue eyes, porcelain skin, the remarkably muscular build of a cleaned-up lumberjack, and a familiar voice that was instantly hospitable. I say this with surprise because I’m essentially NEVER phased by the physical appearance of a human being, rarely even noticing at all. I wondered if it wasn’t a front for something else; But I mean he looked like he had just stepped out of the screen of some cliche masculine- biased action film; and I don’t even like those.

          Anyway, the office was very warmly furnished with all dark cabinetry and seating, a big round mirror, and a large bronze Buddha in the corner; wearing two gold and silver amulets which immediately caught my eye. I don’t know why I kept looking back at them over the course of the next few hours. He was wearing one as well. Perhaps I’m really some kind of Crow and- as I suspected- don’t belong with people in this world. 

“Thank you for taking a chance and coming. Even though this all may sound kind of crazy, try to keep your mind open,” he prompted. 

“You have no idea the crazy shit I’ve seen,” I thought to myself.

“Crazy is normal to me-” 
is all I could manage to say; given my Instantaneous, stuttering misplacement of 30 IQ points and the discovery that he would be incredibly talkative over the course of the next few hours. 

       He didn’t want to know anything at all about why I was there-handing me two metal electrodes to hold in each hand-and insisting that in a short bit, he would tell me everything himself. So for the next couple hours I mostly sat there listening intently to him very animatedly discuss the various- though now proven- “conspiracy”
Theories of government, education, media, healthcare; food, water, air pollution and monopolization; population control, and the ultimate facilitators of nearly all of it through control of the worldwide banking system and federal reserve; how essentially everything we’re taught is a calculated lie- All that good stuff. 

He was preaching to the choir. 
However, I know most people don’t want to hear my shit, so I mostly keep it to myself. 
…to be continued

“If I Just Lay Here…”

I had contemplated just ending this whole blog and dropping off of yet another map, yet I’m here sitting in the shed with the widows, staring again at this empty notepad because I have nothing else to do with all the negativity that’s festering inside of me.
*bitching warning ⚠️*

I’m not thinking clearly- of which I suppose is nothing new. I’m in pain; as I have been with an inescapably increased intensity for a while now. I can’t tell if it’s worse or it simply never gets any easier to tolerate. The intermittent headache has developed into a perpetually unalleviated throb that’s slowly been driving me insane for months, and feeling a bit warm has turned into a chronic fever. I’m so used to feeling like I’m about to toss my cookies that I don’t notice it so much anymore. What I thought was a six month long tension headache is now a full blown stiff-necked, achey flu- only the kind of flu you have for a year. I could go on for way too long with all the other inconsequential, weird ass symptoms I try to just ignore, but when my limbs feel like lead- it’s a very trying feat to simply ignore.
The meds that used to help with the headaches don’t do shit anymore, there’s not enough Pepto in all of Target, the pharmacy’s about to cut me off, and I can only float facedown in the pool for so long to try and ease the heat.
My life has become even more blurry than I ever knew it could. Feeling weak and in pain hour after day after week after month is seriously fucking with my head and rendering my fuse an inch long. I know I can handle it- as at this point I’ve come to expect nothing less from life than to be fucked in every which way possible until I finally find the guts to off myself. I mean, I’ve been known to filet my own skin and pour alcohol on the wounds, yet just can’t seem to get anything from this gnawing, maddening, full body nausea feeling that’s worn me to the bone weary. Painkillers don’t help and I don’t know if the stimulants are doing anything but pushing me closer to the heart attack my tight- chested, fluttering, racing heart is promising. There is no comfortable place or position.
I’m not keeping with working on my MH certification at the pace I had anticipated because my attention span is akin to a drugged up squirrel when all my brain can think about is the pain and how to get it to stop. I got so desperate I decided to give the MJ hype another shot. Though ALOCs have never been my favorite thing, people frequently tout Sativa for helping pain, nausea, and depression. I’ve yet to receive any benefit beside a sudden impulse to clean the entire house and clear my room of my belongings. Not necessarily a bad thing. it keeps me moving with no duty to continue so. But It’s a battle by the minute to not break down and let it take over when it seems like my whole world has become pain.

I’m honestly starting to look at things a little differently, feeling more and more that this life is just a brief dream-or nightmare- from which I’ll soon wake from and consequently laugh at just how engrossing a life so trivial seemed at the time.

I sure hope so, otherwise this is all about nothing but being born to be fucked and shamed. 

Much to my usual acquired resistance to antidepressants, I decided I needed to start again after a recent trend of depression sleeping- a thing I’ve never, nor will ever permit as acceptable for myself. They may be helping a little, as evidenced by my sudden eagerness to actually utilize my vehicle to go wherever for whatever reason seems half credible. I need to have another of those days that I miss: turning off the cell phone and driving along the coast while tearing through hundreds of nostalgic songs. I’m not sure yet if it would be the same or better without the company- of which oddly enough- Caden has been stuck in my head again after a peculiar dream and the unshakable feeling that something was going on in his current marriage. Well, as I was driving around town making excuses to pace stores for pain distraction, I decided to stop by an old friend’s house to check up on her. I knew her through Caden, because we used to have dinner there every Monday night and then just lay on the back porch swing until we fell asleep.
When her husband opened the door, he gave me an even more ill- tempered glare than usual and directed me down the hallway. The house didn’t feel right- very inordinarily heavy and oppressive, and she had always been in the kitchen.

She was lying on her bed, curtains drawn, with oxygen tubes on her face. Her face looked grey – completely different than I’d ever seen her look and her notorious spark absent for the first time. She’d lost at least 20-30lbs and her bedside was strewn with the translucent orange pill bottles that I could identify as Norcos. I was instantly afraid to think that she could die this time, I mean she is 71. All I could do was lie down next to her. She talked about being in a lot of pain, that the painkillers weren’t working, and that she was too nauseous to eat. She filled me in on how her husband was still struggling to have compassion for her sickness, and didn’t need to vocalize to me that she felt isolated, burdensome, and alone in things she couldn’t control. I happen to know *just a little bit* about that and wondered if part of what I’m going though allows me to have a more personal compassion for her when the other people in her life couldn’t understand.

She went on about a few other things and then very abruptly informed me that Caden had just separated from his wife. I don’t know why it shocked and upset me so much. I suppose I had hoped that he finally found what he had been seeking and was happy. Maybe he is- but I wouldn’t know.

Yet, I often feel so foolish when people from my past continue to show up in my dreams, thoughts, and feelings from a distance; always feeling that I can’t seem to forget anyone or anything- even long after I’ve been forgotten. Why are some ties so much more difficult to break than others? As of recent events and much observation, I’ve come to my own conclusion as to why- why we collide with some people who instantly change us, while others over time have no effect in our souls.  However,  I’ll save that rant for another time.

I don’t have any witty lines or anything to say that even vaguely resembles closure, as I’m very much in a suspended state. So…congrats on getting this far with reading this.

You’re awesome-

Keep that shit up.