Charlie Brown had it right with “Good Grief.” Though I’m more of a Samuel L. Jackson, Ving Rhames guy. AHEM “Mother effer!” (Don’t I wish). But no, I wake up to fear and grief and go through the day wishing I could say, “Braxton, Good Grief, Virgil.”
Wednesday, July 19, 2023
Tale 018 ~Braxton, Good Grief, Virgil~
Forgive Me, Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but as the song goes, “Money can’t buy me love.” Or happiness… courage… my best friend…
What about a damn dictionary so I know what all these big, scary words mean? Will you allow me to be down on myself today, Echo? Hell! I’ve been asking that since 6 AM. I want to go back to sleep, but there’s ANXIETY, some “Adrenaline” and asshole hackers. If I want to “remember what fear tastes like” (thank you, Freddy). I need only think of when I sat there thinking and then knowing that my son B III would die Echo. There’s waking up in the morning and getting emails that someone tried to get into my account. Which hasn’t been challenged forever. Will it happen again? Am I a fool? Inspector, I feel STUPID, waking up each morning to fear anything and everything.
What about I read a damn thesaurus while I wait for the fear to subside? It never does Inspector, ever. Now, that’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one. When B was here, protected, loved. Thou Art Courageous. I swear, Inspector, the things I did. How brave I became, always. Another lie. Because as soon as Braxton died and to this very day… Courage, where. Fear is not synonymous with grief. Though you could have fooled me with how I was crying this morning from damn near everything. I’m not even sure I’m done, Inspector. Braxton’s lessons were meant to teach me how to overcome my fears, Inspector. I tried. Virgil’s lessons are meant to teach me how to move through my grief. A trade-off?
What about my damn book! I could spend plenty of time trying to get it banned like any effing Republican. And I wouldn’t even have to read it. It’s the writing that’s a bitch, ha. As if I need to put any more secrets out into the world, with fucking hackers all over the place. You never realize how vulnerable you are. That’s why I forget with all my sleep. Inspector, I hide in fur with both Braxton and Virgil. Which reminds me. Virgil needs a bath with all that white fur of his. Not that he likes me hugging him anyway, that’s for sure. But I waste time fucking around all day from not fixing the air filter. Good Grief. Braxton, Good Grief, Virgil
899 Days Without B III, Day 340 of Virgil’s Arrival
BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,