Living life on the fringe is not a new thing for me. Even as a kid, the mothers at school often told me, “You march to your own drumbeat.” And I had a father that let me. Or rather, was relatively absent, wrapped up in work, emotionally unavailable — your typical blue-collar man. Of course, years later … Continue reading that something, that place, & the fear.
I made the decision to go out that night on impulse. The weight of the year heavy on my shoulders, I craved release, someplace to funnel my anger, the rage and the sadness that pulsed through my body — remnants of my Father’s death, a Wendy’s recent flight, and the realization I was left to fight another … Continue reading the eighth of december.