Well.  A fork in the road.  A blog.  A diary.  A toothpick dangling from my mouth like it had been there since the day I was born.  Somedays to choke on and some days to comfort.  We wouldn’t know until the day was done which kind of day it had been.  Some days longing for a toothpick that could be lit up and inhaled just like a friendly cigarette from the past.  The idea in my head that I was a curious author who wrote best with a cancer stick against my lips.  How I long for that fullness of smoke that could make me feel better inside, less alone.  Fill a hole.  Throw a stone.  To comfort and kill at the same time.  Life is about balance right?  That’s what they say.  But I am not sure it exists and if it did it sure sounds boring.  So here we are.  All of us.  Sometimes all of us.  Sometimes none of us.  But it’s me.  Writing.  Trying to figure out life and convey things to people.  Connect.  It amazes me to the core that anyone would ever really want to or take the time to read what I write.  I mean it’s no TikTok channel but what can I say?  I hope it makes you feel something and I hope it helps me feel less alone.  Thank you for taking the time.

I’m also funny.

You’re welcome.


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