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Bottoming to myself.
Part of me wishes I had someone to turn to, a lap into which I could bury my head and cry and have someone pat me and say “There there, it will be OK.” But that isn’t reality. Reality is that I’m on my own two feet, and if I need that reassurance, I need to be there for myself first, and then ask for help. And interestingly, I’ll get it.
Go deeper... →Origins, Part II: Caught.
Continuation from ORIGINS:Falling Caught. I made it about two steps out of the bathroom when I felt a hand around my neck, pulling me into the bedroom slamming me up against the wall. I blinked. The door to the bedroom, kicked shut, cut off the light from the sitting room. My eyes had hardly adjusted [...]
Go deeper... →digging. uncut.
I have too many. Identities. I do not even feel compelled to list them all lest they take on the glib slickness I am striving to escape even now. I do not want to be looked at. I need to be seen. And using attitude as costuming, my history as the [...]
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