ACT II

Dear Hearts,

I woke up this morning shaking. I called Mom on her cell and asked to come upstairs. She just held me as I shook.

Gary and/or—but mostly Gary was involved and I was in the nut house. I was sitting in this chair and I just wanted to be left alone…to die? All these people—some of whom I know through past therapy—were there expressing what a loser I was. The room was surrounded by nurses, therapists, and doctors—and they were gonna make take treatments I didn’t want. I just sat half falling out of the chair wanting to close my eyes. I did threaten to go “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Wolfe?” on their asses if they touched me.

“Mom, what if I can’t make it in Illinois as an adult?”

Being here on the EC Mom and Dad haven’t “taken care” of me—but it’s a lot shorter fall.

Tomorrow at 5 a.m.—ass crack of dawn Dad and I leave for Illinois. For real for good. Dad’s big ass Dodge Ram is packed to the hilt.

Yes, G-Pa, it will all fit in my room.

In half an hour I am gonna take a run and then have my coffee and first cigarette of the day. Life worth living.

I should be waxing profound.

I did not get my Wolf Tattoo. Dave is a lying, irresponsible jag-off. I have an appointment in Chile (a town an hour from the Holy City) with a FEMALE tattoo artist. She does the art while I am there and I should bring lots of reference pictures. I have a good feeling about her—as soon as I went on the website, I knew they were the ones to give me the tattoo.

After calling Dave AGAIN and his getting passive-aggressively snippy, I wrote him this pathetic apology message about being sorry to be a pain and to please forgive me.

That last line—the “please forgive me”—as soon as I wrote and sent it, I knew I was done with that jag off. I am done asking men—or anyone for forgiveness when they don’t do what they are supposed to do. Well, I’d like to think I’m done.

After Mom gets my reference pictures back from Dave, I will let his boss (he did two of my tats) and him what a jag-off he really is. I will be professional. But, he fucking jerked me around and lied to me. Don’t fucking lie to me.

I am glad I am getting my tattoo later than I wanted—it’s given me time to really think—yes, this is what I want and society, work opinions, G-Pa’s feelings be damned. I have the heart of a wolf.

But, then why am I so fucking scared?

Even though I am scared—terrified—I am moving forward by God’s Grace. That has to count for something, right?

Dad and I saw the It movie based on a novel by Stephen King. We held hands.

Last night, after removing the very fat cat, I lay on the couch next to mother put my head on her stomach. I felt so safe.

I will miss them so fucking much.

This is the real deal—Nan’s desk (it was her mother’s and for years she and I fought over it, but that’s another story) and a dresser is going with me. Some of my most precious possessions are in that truck.

When I run, God talks to me.

I don’t know if I’ll be in The Holy City for the rest of my life…but this is Act II. Three years ago I was in a job I hated and I wanted to kill myself.

Now, I have a sorta-job I like and I’ve committed my Wolf Heart to Life.

CD, PTSD, OCD—it’s all still there…and I know it will hit me when I am in the MW –I may take five steps back…but I ain’t giving in. I will fight.

God, here I am. I trust you to lead me down the road of Righteousness for your Namesake.

Take the wheel.

Gotta run. Gotta try to live.

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 Ailbhe; Saint Peter; Archangel Michael, and my Guardian Angel, Jed.

Grateful For:

Movies with Dad

Strawberry frozen yogurt treat

Being ALMOST all packed

Health

Family

Faith

Buffalo Meatballs

Red, from school, who still cares

Sun

I am fucking freaking out. I had My Last Supper of spaghetti and buffalo meatballs with Mom and Dad.

This is like for real. All the other times—since T---it was like I was going to Illinois, but I HAD to come back and take care of the house. I have. I just stopped paying the mortgage. They WILL NOT talk to me while I am paying the mortgage. Go figure.

This is the real deal.

What if I am just defective at life. That would be easier.

I will never sleep tonight...

Saving Jane “From the Sky

They kicked me out of the parade
I guess I had too much to say
Couldn't bend to fit myself inside the lines
And I have wasted all this time just trying
Those pretty boys and pretty girls
Live in their pretty plastic world
They're so convinced that everything is black and white
That we are wrong and they are right
They always told us not to fight
Kept us grounded when we should be flying

Don't be afraid to fall
You know the ground is never too far from the sky
And they can have their walls
The universe has bigger plans for you and I
So baby hold up your head, now
Don't ever let 'em see you cry

I know you're caught up in the show
And it's so hard to let it go
To lose the mask you always hid yourself behind
To live a life of your design
To say…

The Crucible

ME: [I] cannot!

GOD: And there’s your first marvel, that [you] can

I need a fucking cigarette.