Tale 079 ~Survival Doesn’t Promise Happy Endings~

I’ve kept V alive for 401 days. B had 15 years. Now, what made B happy? Comfy spots, cuddling with his Aunt’s Yabbos, and counting the minutes until his Dad arrived home. I survived 15 E-Days with him. But Survival Doesn’t Promise Happy Endings.

Monday, September 18, 2023

Tale 079 ~Survival Doesn’t Promise Happy Endings~

Three-Hundredth And Ninth Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now… But I have seen that billionaires are the cringiest, crabbiest, and crappiest people. They don’t die. Submarine…

So does that mean I want to be happy? Today, Sunday, September 17, 2023, I long to die, Madam. It will be no different by the time you read this. But “Love and Happiness,” huh? Love died with my little boy, my Braxton. And Happiness? The seventh E-Day. I think. I survived that one and the thirty-ninth, too. Somehow, someway, I’m surviving. But for what? As I told Lady Lunalesca yesterday. Pop culture has been bouncing around inside my head. “My” Existence is a mix of 2009’s The Road, Half-Life 2, 1984, and Equilibrium. Sigh. As the song plays, “I keep asking God what I’m for. And he tells me, “Gee, I’m not sure,” sigh. I’m doing a lot of that, Madam. I’m still breathing.

So, shouldn’t I show some gratitude? That’s not one of the meditations I’ve done today. And I got enough gratitude with those motivational speeches I once played daily. Ha-ha! From wanting to move forward in this existence. To seek only the will to endure. Endure and Survive? But don’t plan on being happy for the love of everything, Madam. Hell! I love Braxton like pancakes, but he didn’t make me happy. I was/am proud of him, Madam. I was a Papa. I pounded the pavement of this existence. That’s because I promised him that I would keep him safe. And here I go, crying again because how’d that turn out? Madam, with all the stories I tell myself. Braxton didn’t die happy. Brave, proud, loved…

But Happy… That’s a question I don’t ask the Man in the Mirror anymore. I don’t ask how to survive either, to be fair. It’s what I do? It’s like that fable “The Scorpion and the Frog.” But neither of them survived? One more reason I’m so “in love with dyin’,” as it were. “We are The Walking Dead,” “We are the Dead,” and that’s how it is, Madam. Life, Living, Love? No! Every day, I rise from the dead. And I move like everyone else towards… I don’t know. But zombies, the infected, and the stupid. Viruses Madam. Stupidity has infected me. And the cure? One day, I’ll find out, Madam, if I survive. Do I want to? Knowing Survival Doesn’t Promise Happy Endings

960 Days Without B III, Day 401 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,