then New Years, two events whose primary effect on my life, increasingly, has been to make me. realize how alone I really am. This is nothing new, and to be perfectly honest, part. of me REALLY likes it. No other people to deal with, to walk on eggshells around. I think I just gave up this past year. I don't have dreams or aspirations anymore, really. And it's not the Trust's fault, or Butch's or anybodys; it's mine. I can at least accept that. And I know there are those of you who read these and worry about my past talk of suicide: WELL DON'T. I'm usually just venting, anyway. And Jaime is really good suicide-prevention; with her bathroom and stomach issues, it's me or the needle. I choose, me. I think she does, too.
a blog that is also meant to serve as a recovery journal, for this gay, Quaker, writer dealing with t.b.i., from surviving a hate crime in Sligo, Ireland, on 1.31.99.