Tag: The Cherry Collision

Tale 128 ~Harder To Breathe On Top~

WillLeave a comment

When I think of being on top, it’s having the women, the clothes, the rides. What about my son? I nearly forgot I sent him to Heaven. But now I can barely climb out of the covers, step forward, or hold my head high. Harder To Breathe On Top

Monday, November 6, 2023

Tale 128 ~Harder To Breathe On Top~

Three-Hundredth And Sixteenth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules Are Made To Be Broken… And if I could make another one, it would be this. Never Get Up Unless Wanted, by…

Me, Myself, And I? As we move further away from E-Day. Thirty-Nine still sucks, okay. Hell! It’s even more than that. It frightens me. And yes, Halloween is over. Because I’m talking to you on Wednesday, November 1, 2023. All Saints’ Day. And faith, Madam? What was it a few years back, November 5th? “Remember, remember! The fifth of November!” I’m no scholar on Guy Fawkes. Didn’t I tell Inspector Echo if I’d gotten A’s? Anyway, I almost got fired way back then because of… I don’t even remember her name or what I called her. But I felt like I was drowning and yet got to keep working, Madam. Only every morning when I wake up for the Day Job… I wish I hadn’t.

And it’s with… I was going to say nearly everything. But when was the last time I took a breath in the morning and I wanted to? All I want is one time. Just one! But every little breath I take, it’s like I’m fighting for it. And in the end, I hate this biological imperative. So, I wrote this rule. It was meant for me to be winning now. To be living “Life On Top.” Why yes, Madam. I just referenced a softcore “drama” that aired on Cinemax. Ha-Ha. But again, being on top is as simple as one foot in front of the other, not dragging. Well, any way existing. Just my opinion. I want to raise my head with confidence, not courage.

I’m not dismissing courage, Madam, but it’s the difference between life and existence. Do you know how those on top say entitlement when they mean earned? So they can take life from others. And I still want to be one of those people, a billionaire, big-shot, a boss, huh? Only it feels like while I’m earning my way… Sort of. I’m fighting that much harder to take a breath. “Running Up That Hill,” making “The Climb,” and even going down “The Road.” Am I making another playlist, Madam? Should I add Rakuen from Trigun? Keeping these eyes on the work is a challenge. Yeah, when I want to be on top of some angel who’s hot as Hell. Geez Madam! I nearly forgot Braxton is up there, somewhere. Without me… Harder To Breathe On Top

1009 Days Without B III, Day 450 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 127 ~To B, Write, Virgil~

WillLeave a comment

There was a time when to live… Did I ever live? To exist was the moment I first wrote my name down. And here I am thirty-nine years later, and everything I’ve written… Hell, I get paid slightly more lifting boxes; sad. “But, To B, Write Virgil.”

Sunday, November 5, 2023

Tale 127 ~To B, Write, Virgil~

To Will:
It’s the Man In The Mirror… Only not, since I’m wearing a mask today. For a little while, being Tuesday, October 31, 2023

I wish I could tell you I’m doing something Halloween-themed besides being a weenie. It’s not because I fear ghosts, vampires, or zombies. Sorry to say werewolves never did much for me, either. Braxton could be a werewolf on occasion. I’m counting to ten. That means if I have all ten fingers, shouldn’t I be writing right now? I mean “my” book or Braxton’s, even yours. NaNoWriMo starts Wednesday. I have no writing ideas. I want to scream the F-word 50,000 times or more. Always and forever, hmm. But I know your Sundays have been getting worse. PLEASE! Will anyone beat the Sunday that Braxton died? No way! Or the one that was Virgil’s first official day. Write about that or failing Six Impossible Things:

  1. I WILL BE VIEWING Satan’s Sorority Girls 3, Or…
    Unknown
  2. I WILL BE VETTING Pictures, My Braxton’s Albums
    Unknown
  3. I WILL BE VENDING Gulp: Poetry Book
    Unknown
  4. I WILL BE VOWING To Keep Pants On (Day 000 No Fap) Real Girls Are An Exception
    Failed
  5. I WILL BE VALUING My Flesh Getting A Tattoo Of My Son Little B III
    Failed
  6. I WILL BE VALIANT Being The Man My Son Thinks I Am
    Failed

Failing is another F-word. So when I first started this… I talked about Writings, Witticisms, and Wisdom. But it’s turned into failure 101. And nobody wants to hear that. Is that why you’re making yourself unavailable week after week? I can’t say I blame you. It’s not right. You aren’t white… meaning you can’t blame this on the other. And when was the last time you did “write?” So many confessions, excuses, failures, uh goodness? Your existence? To Be Continued…

Wednesday, November 1, 2023
Now, what were we discussing? Ah! Yes, writing. And I’m checks watch thirty minutes late. Not that I wasn’t writing… things into a search bar. And a password that lets me do dirty things. Oh! NaNoWriMo’s not on Six Impossible Things:

  1. I WILL BE VIEWING Satan’s Sorority Girls 3 (Or something)
  2. I WILL BE VETTING Pictures, My Braxton’s Albums
  3. I WILL BE VENDING Gulp: Poetry Book
  4. I WILL BE VOWING To Keep Pants On (Day 000 No Fap) Real Girls Are An Exception
  5. I WILL BE VALUING My Flesh Getting A Tattoo Of My Son Little B III
  6. I WILL BE VALIANT Being The Man My Son Thinks I Am

Neither is success. At this particular time, I’m on schedule with Satan’s Sorority Girls 3. But will I finish it? If there is some writing I need to do. How about I answer M Anime? Why not tell the Day Job how I would like to waste the 40th year of this existence? And that wouldn’t be necessary if I would… WRITE A BOOK! Or edit? By the way, publish? Who am I kidding, though? I had most of this week, and you? Again we’ve been talking the last two days because your week is going to suck. Please! With what’s coming tomorrow. I told dear Echo all about it. The existence you could have if not for me, hmm; Future? To B, Write, Virgil

1008 Days Without B III, Day 449 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 125 ~Read… Ready… B, V~

WillLeave a comment

Am I ready to live or exist? Am I ready to read about life? Last week, I read of a guy and a corpse. Now, there’s a guy, a corpse, and a witch coven. People celebrate Christmas… now. I celebrate Halloween? Effing dead. Never Ready. Read… Ready… B, V.

Friday, November 3, 2023

Tale 125 ~Read… Ready… B, V~

Hey Lady Sophia,
Let ME tell you a story… But I would rather write you a few. Hell! I should have written several. Next Week?

It’s like listening to Succubus Lord for… I don’t know how many times by now. But according to Audible, it’s been a lot. And you know what I want to say about them. Only I go back and forth on this whole censorship thing. I wish I could say certain things and call it free speech. It’s why I keep my mouth shut, ears filled and lost fifteen bucks. Meh. Yet opening my eyes and reading. It didn’t occur to me to read all those pet loss books while Braxton was dying. He was going to live. Sophia, that’s where faith lays, with B III. But at the same time, I read as I didn’t want to worry about it with B crossing the bridge.

Now, why do I bring this up today? Well, besides the fact that I talk about B III every day. If I had to express all my fears, we would be here, My Lady. Uh, “EVERYTHING” isn’t that hard to say? Writing it? Anyway, I’m afraid I won’t write Braxton’s name one day. Hmm? Before I decide to start scanning years sniffle worth of blogs. Again, what’s with today? It’s how I stayed ahead to watch my boy cross over. And yet, I’m not ready to step out of this bed. One step towards life or even a better existence at this point. And as I say that, My Lady. There was a zombie package at the door. A package for my package. Uh gross.

I really didn’t make a joke about “my” new toys, did I? My Lady, that’s the only thing I’m ever ready for. I’m always ready to get some. So, when was the last time that happened? This is more of a confession for Inspector Echo, but I’m always ready to read the truth. The last time I ever “got some” would be around seven years ago. Never in this house!!! And I can’t even blame that on Braxton. When it came to Carolina Bound, the woman I would make his honorary aunt since she’s like a sister to me. My son did try to play wingman. Did I ever read to him about moms? Not even how girls became mothers. Nope. Read… Ready… B, V

1006 Days Without B III, Day 447 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 123 ~Getting A B, Virgil~

WillLeave a comment

If I’d earned a few… a lot of A’s, I’d have a grade A existence. Schools don’t have scholarships for zombie tales or HaremLit. And while I love my boy and took Virgil in, I hate Math. So much for my plans to be a vet. A writer? “Getting A B, Virgil.”

Wednesday, November 1, 2023

Tale 123 ~Getting A B, Virgil~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned. It’s not like I’m fooling anyone into believing I’m a righteous man. How about a writer or reader?

Today is the first day of NaNoWriMo, which WAS usually hard on Braxton and me. Usually, it means another unpublished book. And with two months out from E-Day. So, ten months away from being forty? I swear I thought I was afraid before Inspector Echo. Halloween was yesterday. And what spooky things did I do with the night, dear Echo? Well, I read Satan’s Sorority Girls 3. And wanted to break with Grayson and Julia. Frightening? Inspector Echo, you know November is the month guys say NO to specific activities. But yeah, I watched Halloween Havoc for the following reason. Say it with me, Inspector. YABBOS! I should have listened to Braxton. The best legs, breasts, and thighs come from a bucket of chicken, Inspector.

Then maybe, just maybe, I would have more energy to write. And more time, Inspector. Hell! I could have a new subject to write about. I get F’s in everything else. That is if I let people peruse it, got it published, and didn’t use it as a punishment device. Writing poetry and prose meant so much more once upon a time. Once I got out of school, that is. Was it only 2020 2021 that I figured it was the way out for Braxton and me to live? Ha-Ha! Braxton found his way out, but what about me? Selfish much? It is inevitable, Inspector. Indifference killed my boy because I had to keep my anger at the Day Job far away from him, always.

Then there was my stupidity. I bought some Halloween “cool devices” from a particular company this week. Did I mention how my monster of choice has always been the Dead?

And now I’m reading a bill on zombie toys. Doesn’t Virgil need more stuff, Inspector? And I could be looking up ideas for stories, but would they be published somehow? Inspector, if I want a good horror story, I could look at The Day Job. And all the things I need to sign up for to continue to be one of The Walking Dead. For V’s sake, sigh. And last night, I got a message from M Anime assuring me, “Oh God, I’m gonna die alone.” Not surprising. But my boys? Getting A B, Virgil.

1004 Days Without B III, Day 445 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 122 ~A MASK B, V~

WillLeave a comment

Do you want to see a ghost? Been there, done that. Do I want to see a zombie? It’s more like I want to see a lot more. And there’s also Animatronics. But there’s no need for a mask tonight. I’ll be staying in alone. Well, V’s here too. “A MASK B, V.”

Tuesday, October 31, 2023

Tale 122 ~A MASK B, V~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you. It’s why I don’t hide anything from you. Why I hate myself. And I like Creed.

The movie? I’ve only seen the first. And parts of the second. But you know I’m talking about the band.

“If I had just one wish, only one demand

I hope he’s not like me, I hope he understands” ― With Arms Wide Open, Creed

I know it’s not a song having to do with Halloween. Happy Halloween! If I wasn’t in a messed up space right now. Hell! I should check where I was in 2021 and 2022, love. Messing around on Instagram and Facebook, I saw something about A Day of the Dead for fur babies on the 27th. Of course, I missed it. And now I’m reading up on the “official” Day of the Dead. But other than my firstborn son, who do I miss? I’m still cringing about how I stunk up my granddaddy’s funeral. Worse than his corpse? That’s not cool to say, I know.

Then again, I make you lie with a corpse every night. Two, if I’m being honest with Braxton’s remains on the nightstand. You’re the only one who loves the Dead as much as me. (Swoons). Maybe that should be your Halloween costume this year… Trinity. Because the man you love would be The One. Which means that I can’t be dead. But even now, sigh. I want to be with my boy. At least that’s what my face tells me every morning I wake up. But, like most days, I put on a mask and have to become someone else. And that’s the difference between my two boys. Braxton showed me who I could be. Virgil shows what I’ve become. Then you and our family…

Today should be… easier. I get to put on a mask, but even now. To be scary, not too scary. In a minute, I’ll burst out with Mulan’s “Reflection.” Mulan and Shang? That’s an idea. And after today? If there was one thing I liked about COVID, it was the mask. I didn’t have to hate myself for these fake smiles. Oh, I did mention I killed Braxton Barks, hmm. I’ll hide behind books so people can treat me like it’s school, always and forever. “Daddy’s tired.” How many times have I heard you say that as I lie, crying into a pillow? How many days has it been, 1,003? Did we buy candy? I’ve had a sugar crash for days. A MASK B, V

1003 Days Without B III, Day 444 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 121 ~Prisons Have Many Different Forms~

WillLeave a comment

I was arrested once when I was young and STUPID. I’m not young anymore, but STUPIDITY is a virus. I’m infected with it. There’s also Depravity, Fear, and Pain. And for today, at least, Sadness encompasses them all. “Prisons Have Many Different Forms”

Monday, October 30, 2023

Tale 121 ~Prisons Have Many Different Forms~

Three-Hundredth And Fifteenth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules Are Made To Be Broken… like anything dealing with Time Travel. A dangerous business this is. And what’s my punishment, Dear Madam?

Grounding me, “When We Were Young” was no TV, Internet, and the like —going nowhere? As I was telling Baby B this morning, Thursday, October 26, 2023. I’m not going to Heaven, the Rainbow Bridge, or Purgatory. With that knowledge, I long to die. Why?

Sleeplessness? Now, that would be a punishment. I haven’t taken a nap today. But Hell, Braxton’s been gone 1,002 days. It’s like I’m doing life.

Sexlessness? I might as well be a damn eunuch. I’d say a priest. But only if Braxton were my religion. And there’s no women here.

Simoleons aren’t rolling in like they did the last few weeks, sigh. I barely made a hundred dollars. These are like confessions for Inspector Echo, Madam —my Dirty Little Secret.

Secrets, to be fair. And silence is one Hell of a prison. This is why I’ve been all about buying audiobooks. eBooks, and stealing “ideas” from X/Twitter. Things “Things That Make You Go, Hmm.” It’s more like things that make you moan and other noises…

Sadness though… That’s the one thing that has been loud and clear. If I hadn’t stopped crying at some point, I’m sure I would have drowned in my tears by now. Have I cried today? At the moment, I feel like crying. Only it’s not 100% Braxton. I mentioned I didn’t get a nap and was so frustrated this morning that I’m back to Day One-ish. Being a slave to certain addictions makes me sick and tired. It’s pretty sad.

It’s like when you hear an icon talking about a crime. And you know for a fact, yeah, I did that. Hell! I’ll do that tomorrow and the next day. It’s how certain people look at history, knowing they want to do such things and then trying to claim innocence.

Madam, why else do you think I read all those books on people who had to make “the decision” for their fur babies? You exist with that choice and then in the presence of their absence. It’s always and forever. And yet, you get to walk away from the crime. I remember my perp walk from Banfield and the aisle of PetSmart. I’ve never left.

What are my other crimes? Prisons Have Many Different Forms.

1002 Days Without B III, Day 443 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 120 ~B Wear Failure Virgil~

WillLeave a comment

Things I fail at. I can’t show gratitude for opening my eyes. I’m never positive about anything except being negative. I fail to be a “Law Abiding Citizen.” And I fail to escape humiliation by my own hand. A badge of honor? B Wear Failure Virgil

Sunday, October 29, 2023

Tale 120 ~B Wear Failure Virgil~

To Will:
It’s the Man In The Mirror… And how long will you look at failure? Today is Friday, October 27, 2023. So close enough…

You have Braxton’s old black hoodie. And you’re wearing his picture and a pendant full of his ashes. All you need to do now is switch your shirt and put on your jeans, and then? NOTHING! You’ll still be a failure! I don’t mean to sound so harsh, but as I said sometime this week, anger is more useful than despair. And the past few days have been all despair. Hell! This morning was the perfect example. Didn’t I say I was swearing off sleeping? Okay, more like naps. So, what did I do from 9:20 AM to 9:40 AM? It’s pretty sad, so early. When you’re asleep, the monsters can’t get you. “I look at them, and we look at him.” Six Impossible Things:

  1. I WILL BE VIEWING Heather by G.C. McKay (Or…)
    Completed
  2. I WILL BE VETTING Pictures, My Braxton’s Albums
    Failed
  3. I WILL BE VENDING Gulp: Poetry Book
    Failed
  4. I WILL BE VOWING To Keep Pants On (Day 014 No Fap)* Real Girls Are An Exception.
    Failed
  5. I WILL BE VALUING My Flesh Getting A Tattoo Of My Son Little B III
    Failed
  6. I WILL BE VALIANT Being The Man My Son Thinks I Am
    Failed

This list, my boys, me, myself, and I. It’s crazy, insanity, or as THEY say, Hell is repetition. And I relive as you will the same failure again and again, tearing up because of this. Braxton is dead. Dying on a Sunday doesn’t make everyone terrible. Only the truth. Please! “I want the truth!” You can’t handle the truth! So, unknown failures are blessings. And let’s not forget how I worship the dead. As you will, since Fear The Walking Dead is on tonight. Oh! The things I remember. A dead son, list, and show all about corpses, ha! If it’s any consolation, I know I’ve finished Heather by G.C. McKay. Horrible choice of words with what was done to Heather, Freya. Six Impossible Things:

  1. I WILL BE VIEWING Satan’s Sorority Girls 3 (Or something)
  2. I WILL BE VETTING Pictures, My Braxton’s Albums
  3. I WILL BE VENDING Gulp: Poetry Book
  4. I WILL BE VOWING To Keep Pants On (Day 000 No Fap) Real Girls Are An Exception
  5. I WILL BE VALUING My Flesh Getting A Tattoo Of My Son Little B III
  6. I WILL BE VALIANT Being The Man My Son Thinks I Am

So the fact that such a book is… um, I won’t say. But I’m failing as a human being. Hmm. Only I’m suggesting we go burning it. But what about this hoodie? Hell! Burned Braxton. Now, that was pretty dark. Only you wear darkness, depression, and depravity. You could go all The Scarlet Letter and wear a big F for failure. Will you? Come on, I know with this week… The fact that we are speaking right now is that no matter what, you are F’ed. It’s why you haven’t given Virgil a collar yet and his tag. You’re not ready to rate an F as a father again. But in everything else? Because you’re not really alive. Neither am I. B Wear Failure, Virgil.

1001 Days Without B III, Day 442 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 118 ~Just Breathe, B, Virgil~

WillLeave a comment

So I finished a book about a guy and a corpse. Then, last night, I hoped I wouldn’t see one as Virgil breathed weirdly. Should have read up on how to help him. If I had time. 15 years with B, what do I know of dog first aid. “Just Breathe, B, Virgil”

Friday, October 27, 2023

Tale 118 ~Just Breathe, B, Virgil~

Hey Lady Sophia,
Let ME tell you a story… Better yet, I need to read how to perform basic first aid on dogs. Virgil Vivi?

Lady Sophia, if you’re asking why I’m so late this morning. Hell! I lounged around in bed for an hour. And then I can’t say I was reading anything. How do THEY say… A picture is worth a thousand words. So, how many pairs of Yabbos is that? The answer might surprise you. But we’re not here because of Math. Next to History, Reading rules. Inevitable. And according to Kindle, I’ve read for 562 days. And not one of those books would have saved V last night. Don’t worry. He’s very much alive. Breathing? Happy? He’s becoming more and more like me. Except I think he would prefer breathing, Sophia. But what do I know? Braxton wanted to make me happy. What makes me happy?

Didn’t The Beatles write a song about it? Only I’m not one for that kind of violence. Have you seen the news the past few days? Something else I want to avoid seeing, hearing about, or reading. Then again, I could tell you that Virgil Vivi was gone. After the trouble, he had last night. I petted him and begged him to take a breath. Again, looking up medical emergencies. Sophia, I didn’t. While Braxton lay dying, I finished Succubus Lord 7, next came 8. Vladimir Nabokov’s The Enchanter came after. So, um, three books before I got to sigh… A Dog’s Purpose by W. Bruce Cameron. But what is my purpose, to keep breathing? More than likely, it’s to waste air, Sophia, I swear.

It’s a good enough reason not to buy physical copies of books. It’s an insult, Lady Sophia, to trees, blasphemy to the air, and humanity… What about it? Look at the last seven books that I’ve read. Sunday has always been a bad day. Well, since B died. But talking to the Man in the Mirror. Hell! I guess he’s sick of telling me about my failures every week. Anyway, I was talking about novels. The last seven were about dirty priests, vampires, elves, video game vixens, and a girl’s corpse. “Can’t Get It Up If The Girl’s Breathing.” Eww! Thank you, Repo! The Genetic Opera. Unfortunately, genetics, “my” biological imperative, demands I keep breathing. How these stories end. Virgil’s story? Just Breathe, B, Virgil

999 Days Without B III, Day 440 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 116 ~Virgil On B’s Time~

WillLeave a comment

What time is it? When I was 36 and Braxton was 15, we didn’t care. If I had my way, he would be 18, and I would have never seen 7. I’d say 0, but I love my Ma. And with nearly 1,000 days, I can still cry for my boy. He’s My Son. V? Virgil On B’s Time

Wednesday, October 25, 2023

Tale 116 ~Virgil On B’s Time~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned. Is grieving a sin? It’s been 997 days, so three shy of 1000. As always, my Little Braxton.

I cried for him today, Tuesday, October 24, 2023. So, I’m only looking one day ahead. And yes, I will weep. But only because of the Day Job. Or I hope so. I wish to be sad, I swear, Echo. THEY say that “Anger is more useful than Despair.” And as Dr. Banner put it. “I’m always angry.” Always and forever, Inspector Echo. Who has that kind of time ever? Inspector, as I told Dear Future Wife today, I do. I have hated myself for the majority of 39 years of this existence. And the fact that I’ll make it to 40… Inspector Echo, geez. October is a month of scary things. Isn’t it? I still want zombies, but my boy B is in ashes.

So why is Virgil living on B III time? It’s not like it’s doing me any favors, even today. Ha! It’s three in the afternoon, so shouldn’t I be talking to Madam Justice? Procrastination, Echo. Virgil has been here for 438 days. And he’s still asking me when will be his time to come out and play. He’s living like Braxton did during his last days. And at least Braxton had the biological imperative to survive. My boy would eat, drink water, and use his pad. Even when he was dying, Inspector. He didn’t want his water right next to him. B was a man. And he walked to where his water dish once was. I need these tears, hmm. Today’s humiliations won’t be enough?

I’ve had alarm bells all day, both Tuesday and Wednesday. I told Dear Future Wife a nightmare awakened me this morning. There have been sirens, both police and women. There’s the silence of my overthinking, overloading. And, um, overflowing. And Inspector something as simple as the wind that could blow down the fence anytime. It can be all over. Inspector Echo, doesn’t Virgil deserve a chance, a choice, and his case on the clock? It’s Braxton’s first meds, outside time, and second dose every day. And everything I did was to one day have more time with him. The time I spend with Virgil… We both don’t know. “Time Has Come Today,” it will. Be it 3, 18, 39. Sigh, E-Day. Virgil On B’s Time

997 Days Without B III, Day 438 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 115 ~To B Beloved Virgil~

WillLeave a comment

The look of love is in your eyes. A reason I don’t have a mirror over the bed. I’m not that freaky. I’d never see it unless I found B III… um, Virgil, a mom. It has never been a love for me; it’s love for someone else, B, V. To B Beloved Virgil.

Tuesday, October 24, 2023

Tale 115 ~To B Beloved Virgil~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you. I can confidently (ha-ha) say that I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. That’s scary, right…

Another reason I love money so much. Yes, I’m going to keep it ninety-two plus eight, babe. “My” Olds never taught me to love myself. But keeping me, myself, and I alive takes money. I’m thirty-nine and still thinking about “my” E-Day. One too many, sigh. Anyway, to love myself. And that’s in a keep-my-pants-on sort of way. I don’t think I ever will. Braxton, though, got the closest. I love him so much that I know my biological imperative. Love, you know I will indulge in my pop culture tendencies. Several, I’m afraid. As Haymitch Abernathy told Katniss… “Stay Alive.” That was my B III whenever I went out. Or, as Max said in Fury Road… “So I exist in this wasteland, reduced to one instinct: survive. I do

Two little words from the three I tell you all the time. I love you; I do. Just keep breathing. I did that for Braxton. And I do it for you every day. Take this morning for example. I saw this thing when They asked when do you feel the most STUPID. It’s opening my eyes. Hell! A “Crazy Little Thing Called Love.” It’s STUPID, too. But you know why I feel that way. Because I hate myself and like most things, I do, if for everyone else. Love and Hate, which both require me to live. And as the song goes, “Why do the things I hate come so naturally?” I hate myself to love Braxton, you, our family.

Geez! I sound so much like, um… a specific political party. I don’t love my critic but care enough to censor myself. Now I’m sitting in bed, wanting to make the list. “Someone You Loved.” I’m still talking to myself because I know you love me, somehow. And Virgil does, too… Why don’t I ask you? How I could love myself, baby girl. Last night, I dreamt about the old Day Job and how I would have felt if I lost it. Hell! I watched my firstborn die, and in his eyes, was his Daddy. I couldn’t even close them. Punishment I needed to see. Beloved, how I long to see a better man in your eyes someday. But how, love? To B Beloved Virgil

996 Days Without B III, Day 437 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will