black&white

Can’t touch on the bad blues.  It won’t let me share any of the over 6,000 words I have written about him and this most recent struggle with him, this “friend”.  Sorry I have been remiss.  Sorry if you thought any of these black&venomous missives were in any way about you, good&cherished reader.

I’m lucky.  Some people in my life are keeping me alive.  Keeping me from going off the deep end.  It’s a different kind of survival now.  Bad blues doesn’t own as much of me.  There is less for him to grab onto.  I’m lighter.  I’ve pulled myself up the littlest bit over these grim and bone-sharpening years and I have run into some fellow travelers on this vista who are priceless to me.  They know who they are.  You should, too.
I used to see this girl when I lived in the barrio.  She was a good kid.  Never told the truth a day in her life but a good kid.  I couldn’t get even 100 words up on here w/o her reproach and needling questions.  It was never about her.  It was never about you.
Oddly enough, the person it is about, this “friend”, won’t let me publish anything about him.  He’s got it locked down, brother.  If the bastard had his way he’d clamp down on more than this blog, too.  For true.  He’d just love to see me, shut in and ruined.  He’d love to try and prove to me that I am nothing and will always be nothing.  And he’ll take all he can get.  A real motherfucker, the blues.