I don't negotiate with terrorists. Lame.
Without much contemplation, after losing an eight hour uphill battle against the rattling muscular instability that comes from time to time to causelessly rob me of motility and function at seemingly deliberate junctures such as these
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and that im alive, but far from alright. but im comitted to being alive, or wanting to live, or whatever that means.
Ken didnt come that morning... but he doesnt do mornings. my baby brother pulled through late that afternoon and gave me all the hugs and comfort i needed, and brought me to my launching point, and we parted ways.
He didnt cry, and so I didnt. Hes always been strong for me in all the ways I wasnt. Patient. Happy.
He didn't say goodbye. I was grateful for that.
He said only "Be easy." and drove off with one hand casually flaggged up in his careless last wave into the rear view mirror.
"Im closer than I appear." I thought to myself. And I wasnt scared or hurt anymore. Granted it took me a week to start making sense out of things, but... a short stay at the south jersey manor, hanging with adam and the like put me right. It often does. It allows me to make decisions. gives me space from my demons, and time to think.
Reggie graduates this weekend, and Im not going. I dont know what to do or say or think about him right now, so I am trying not to. Perhaps when I get around to it we will have both gotten our respective shit together.
Or I will perish. but isnt that always a quiet possibility? Has it ever not been?
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