Grief & Grieving, whatcha got on that combo? Three in eleven? Gotcha covered my friend. Ain’t it a bitch when shit slides downhill on your life, again and again.
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The Excellence of Failure, oh how the Hitman would be jealous of this tagline. Ya see fucking everything up you touch is an art, a skill. And I’m closing in on being a master
Complexities of the diastolic world, the painfulness of awakening from a spell only to find that someone shit in your cheerios. Yup, back to that fucking topic.
Why I sleep alone… I wanted to revisit this thread for some time, entitled “Why I Sleep Alone”. Nearly 10 years later, this’ll be interesting.
I’m a Jericholic. I’ll admit it. I’ve been a Jericholic for eons. No shit.
20 years ago, on Thanksgiving 2001, all of my family was together at my parents’ home in Mesa, Arizona. All of us out here in Arizona, 2 1/2 months after the terrorist attacks of September 11th.
I have this Voicemail, I listen to it from time to time. It’s from a friend of mine, whom I loved so dearly. She is an amazing human, and I miss her in my life, if only for that.
It’s Wednesday, you know what that means! Mr. Brodie Lee, you still amuse the fuck out of me, being one of the most amazing humans to have ever lived. And there are A LOT who feel the same.
And I want that place, that place where I belong. That place for I long. That place that brings my happiness… she keeps calling me there. Home. My home, my home.
I fight this war inside my head where there are no winners only losers” —antidote, originals series, 9.15.7. There is a special perspective that I will explain here.
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