Saga 259 ~Write Way, Braxton, Virgil~

Busy living or dying? I exist. And it’s getting harder to breathe. Not that bothered B III. But I won’t ever write that what I did was right. Not when I’m writing about everything wrong with me. Going on with V. “Write Way, Braxton, Virgil”

Friday, March 17, 2023

Saga 259 ~Write Way, Braxton, Virgil~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, so I shouldn’t have any health issues. But you know I’m an effing liar… sometimes. Often?

The biggest lie I ever told? As I was telling Braxton the Wednesday when he was trying to get my attention. The Friday as I put him in the car to go to the vet. There was the Saturday night I lay beside him. And Sunday, January 31, 2021, as I carried him back to the vet… Like the song goes AHEM, “We gon’ be alright.” And here we are, 775 days later. Well, one of us. Today is one of those days I want to be with my son. Well, that’s every day, to be sure. Only today, even more so. I heard something interesting this morning. You know that word unalive? “THEY” use it to keep their content. The almighty dollar, as always.

Since I can’t use the effing S-Word because I don’t need the cops showing up at the door… um again. I’ll only say I want to be with my son. The freeloader… Virgil Vivi’s here. Sophia, it’s the only reason I’m not buck-naked lying here with some chicken noodles. Hell! All of the times I almost died before I met Braxton. Relax, Lady Sophia, you can say I’m quoting a movie. How about a book? Remember I said I’m an effing liar, I believe. According to the Kindle Challenge and now Goodreads, I read “How to Be an Antiracist.” Everything but the Notes and About the Author sections. And what about watching The 1619 Project. I need my eyes for that, don’t I? SIGH trying.

But today, let’s start with the basics. The Cherry Collision once The Zoe Colletti/Tifa Lockhart Incident is kicking my ass. How the Hell did I survive the Day Job. Eff Me! On that subject, it’s why I’m late talking to you, Sophia. I was writing Cherry and reading M Anime. At least for a few minutes, I didn’t feel like joining B. Women and fur babies. But then we get to my eyes which have been itching and burning. Effing maddening. When I returned, I immediately popped a painkiller and shared some fries with Virgil. Would Braxton be proud of me? It shows I’m trying to keep existing. Talking to you, looking up drugs. Knowing my son is dead, but today. Write Way, Braxton, Virgil

775 Days Without B III, Day 216 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,

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