The Mean Reds

Dear Hearts,

“The Mean-Reds.” That’s what Audrey Hepburn called it in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. When you are anxious or bothered by something, but just don’t know what.

I am so blessed, I know that.

I feel like I just go through the motions of life.

Maybe when I OD’ed I did die and now I’m a ghost. Ghosts don’t have dreams. They just want to connect with the Living somehow. That’s what I want. I want to connect with the Living.

I fought for X. I kept X as I needed to live there for two more years. I made my stand against Asshole. Is it time to let X go now? Was the fight the victory?

I laugh and smile, but underneath I feel agitated and anxious. Everything in the World brings me fear. Burning Bed. Walmart. Cigarette stores. Those Goddamn door-knobs. Germs. I need you to truly understand what I mean—whatever fears you have—I live mine like for me the better part of my day.

Wary. Weary. Guilt-ridden.

I feel safe at G-Pa’s and Aunt Faerie’s homes. That’s something else I want –to feel safe and not afraid.

I feel gypped by the GOP. I wanted to be inspired. W. inspired me. I got behind McCain and Romney because I was supposed to. Ryan, Rubio, Cotton—they inspire me. Both Hillary and Trump are unfit for the Highest Office In The Land. Disgusting. At least Al Capone, Meyer Lansky, Arnold Rothstein, Lucky Luciano—they admitted they were corrupt. Hillary and Trump just lie.

Fuck politics. I just wanted to be inspired. A reason to live. A reason to go forward every day. I am doing it, but I’m not sure whether the charade will turn into reality or just wear me out.

I CANNOT SEE A FUTURE. Yet, I got through the motions of living.

Why?

“Shadows are falling and I been here all day
It's too hot to sleep and time is running away
Feel like my soul has turned into steel
I've still got the scars that the sun didn't let me heal” Bob Dylan

I color and draw. Watch my shows. Smoke. Read. I DO these things because I want to—I think, I hope they will bring me joy...

But why can’t I feel Joy?

Only 438 words. Failure.

Smoke ‘em if ya’ got ‘em. God Bless

In the name of The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; Mother Mary, Saint Brigid; Saint Jude; Saint Therese Lisieux; Saint Peter; Archangel Michael, and my Guardian Angel, Jed.

PS: My voice doesn't even echo down here in the well.

PPS: I oughtta go to Mass