I didn’t really cry, though I would have liked to. And every day, and hour, we’re further apart. In a year’s time, we’ll be strangers. Like in December ’09.
Feels particularly brave on nights without early mornings.
Monday Sunday Monday Sonday Munday Sonday Monday
There’s a story for the psychiatrist. And a story for the psychotherapist. And then there’s a story for the parents. There’s a story for acquaintances, and one for closer of kin. And then there’s a story untold.
It’s a post-apocalyptic, war-torn-humanity sort of scenario. We’re forced along a mountainous path. There are no side paths; it’s a one-end, dead-end road. And it ends with a dozen of them. They’ve been awaiting us all along. There’s nowhere else to go, no other paths to take. So I keep walking until one of them […]
Two-word words waste, waste, waste that time one-word sigh.
gotta keep wanting gotta keep moving gotta quit boozing gotta keep wanting
In all blinding honesty, I’ve been suffering from depression for over a decade, since the start of the teens, the thirteens, to be exact. I’ve checked myself in with the wrong psychiatrist at the age of 17 and another wrong one at the age of 21. I’m a prolific liar, but I care too much […]
indispensable disposables, incompatible of-one-minds, transient eternals
He says, don’t mix sorrow with gin on Wednesdays. Float, and I say dive. Water, I pour wine.