I’ll do anything to avoid getting out of bed. Yet I’m procrastinating when it even comes to that. “Success, no, I should be playing “Lazy Ass.” Heaven’s where you find it. Still rather be with my boy. But to honor him? BIII Of Procrastination Virgil.
Thursday, July 06, 2023
Tale 005 ~BIII Of Procrastination Virgil~
886 Days Without B III, Day 327 of Virgil’s Arrival
Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? Since I’m Time Traveling, I’ll give anything for this day not to begin. You know.
Meditation? Hell! I remember when all that entailed was coming back to the house, scooping you up, and falling to bed. Yeah, that’s called sleeping. I think. And I’m lying. There was that time I had a subscription to Brainbuddy. Something I couldn’t tell you. To be honest, it’s tough talking to you now. I would rather be doing anything else like I was yesterday evening. I miss you so damn much. Your pictures Braxton, getting a tattoo, and all the stuff I still have yet to buy in 886 days. I’m lazy, broke, or depressed. Take your pick. All of the above. So many effing excuses. What about Virgil, you ask? I don’t know what to do B. Procrastination? Braxton, did I almost say, like father, like son? Never!
Both of those are pretty awful. If I’m being honest. To claim Virgil feels like I’m adding to my Treachery. If I don’t? Then why did I bother bringing him with me 327 days ago? Braxton, today is Tuesday, July 4, 2023, Independence Day. A bad day for dogs. Well, a lot of furry companions. You weren’t fond of it. We would sit cuddled together as we waited for the world to explode. That makes me like everyone else. Doesn’t it? Waiting, procrastinating, obsessing over everything. Even now, Virgil’s shaking against my leg B. I hope I can wait to move him for a while. He just wants to be comforted. So I hope. Braxton, that’s the mistake I made with you. I thought you were annoying. Sick? No, dying.
That Thursday, I knew I had to get you to a Doc, and for what? Like father, like son. You made the boatman wait a little longer. Didn’t you, my prince? Procrastinating unto death. A thought. I’m doing the same. Yesterday I cleared out my inbox and dumped my pictures. And I even got around to reorganizing the desktop and for what. Conversations? Well, better known as writing to Inspector Echo. And to you. Madness, rage, effing hatred. But, never towards you or the girls but at myself. If it isn’t the world ending. It’s seeing these people being motivated, making money, their marriages, and making babies. “Here comes success.” Sending me a song already? Asking, better telling Virgil and me; BIII Of Procrastination Virgil.
Always and Forever,