I started writing letters, I haven't done that since boot camp. I poured out with the beat from the song The Art of Falling Apart playing in my head knowing that it was right and from a good place and simultaenously self destructive. What if time had been in a different place? From one day to the next inbetween my own silent pursuits, the pursuit of my heart was the next highest priority. Long nights and long talks where my own voice was calming and now the swipe of ink I make on paper causes fear. How did this happen? People have told me that I have a surfer vibe and should have moved to Cali a long time ago yet I chose to wear a different kind of suit and play a game that can't be won? Self acceptance? A chance to give back if I made more money? Internal therapy? Thanksgiving 2019 I was back out of my rut and going forward with life and then a fire was lit inside of me that was never there before. All of my rules went out of the window, what rules... I never had any.

One rule in the back of my mind always said to remain silent. Silence speaks so much more than words ever can. Am I needy? Suddenly I turn my head and there's a different fire. There's a new but familiar damaged nerve behind my ear burning down my neck like a strike of lightning to match my leg, my chest and my arm. I accept it today like I have lived with it forever. I know pain?! Do I? Pain means nothing. Why does physical pain mean nothing and yet I still feel?! I pop an aspirin and hear tiny squeaks in my head, this is nothing new either. It's hot as hell outside, I wish I could go run... should I detox more first or just go? So many years have been spent alone simply running in one sense or another. Not now, no more running. The dreams are back but they never left. Who was I saving this time? My own voice wakes me up again. Where am I? Take me back to the tree with my grandpa and a bag of marbles in the dirt, I can do better this time around.