Today I had to go though the 7 boxes of shit I’ve been lugging around and collecting the last 24 years of my life. I had a flood in my apartment and destroyed some but forced me to minimize some of it. From finding the flirty notes from 7th grade of a girl I use to know that I thought I would spend my life with to the tools my dad once used to build firefighting helicopters. He expected the world of me and I let him down. After i moved out they split up; he slipped back in his addiction and I hear from him from time to time but I’m not strong enough to talk to him without breaking down. As a kid we all expected so much from ourselves and expected to better off than we really are now. It strangles the light of the future that everyone claims to be so bright. This woman I met a while ago she showed me a glimmer of hope till I saw her true colors, abusive, manipulative, and fabricator of lies. All I see is that little red tool box knowing the cure to stop this can be found in there and it will be so quick and painful for a split second. The end of the road is staring me in the face; calling my name. When I think of grabbing it all I see is my gunners face sad saying “it’s not your time” when someone says their fine it’s really a cry for help, I struggle with my emotions and sharing them that’s why I can here. 22toMany TillValhalla