All the signs that Braxton has been sending… I hope he has been sending and still is, and what have I responded with. Considering when I’m writing this because I won’t have the strength after. I’ll hate myself the rest of the day. “A Write To B”
Tuesday, March 15, 2022
Chronicle 257 ~A Write To B~
Dear Future Wife,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means writing a check shouldn’t be any big deal. It’s more anxiety-driven than financial. (Shudders).
Imagine the time spent thinking money. Republican Tendencies, America, Everyone. Hell, what about the time I’ve wondered about the ghost dog Saturday, March 5, 2022. Aren’t I time traveling now? That’s what happens when you don’t learn from history, baby girl. I’m doomed to repeat it. Even though now I love what I do for a living. A living, huh? Aren’t I having the time of my life in my business? Braxton’s death… 408 days. Such a love puts me to shame. I wonder if it would put me out of business. Who would have thought being in a room full of women would tick me off; Karens/Rebeccas? Less than the old Day Job. You don’t want to hear me go into that. Time Travel.
I know you wish I would. Become the man I once was. But again, I say of love once known. As a husband, I deal in LOVE… ok, and a bit of LUST. In business, it’s all LUST, you know. Only B was the first to give love meaning. Is that an insult, to my Olds, to you our kids? 15 years 13 days, and I’m still trying to define it. I don’t mean any offense to the “people” in my life, but I think of all I have said. More like all I have written down in life. To my “father,” there were notes for money. Oh, begging for something like Braxton. The first time he buys a “family dog.” He’s for my sister, ha.
If that wasn’t a sign? Oh, for weeks, I’ve been going on and on about signs. Am I still hmm? You’ll never see me leaving with a pink slip, writing two weeks’ notice; my businesses. Baby doll, it’s only days like today; I go back to thinking I should walk out on the old Day Job. Remind me someday to write about how I escaped that shithole. Pardon my language, but the Day Job is a shithole. I’d call it the ninth circle of Hell, an accessory to the murder of my son. Anyway, why would I write a book for such a place? Never… Instead, I would write of Braxton. I would speak of love. But to you and everyone. A Write To B.
408 Days Without B III
BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,