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I remember that day.  I remember falling to the floor.  I remember who I called, and in what order.  I remember the slowing of time, and

Matt, I fucking miss you today.  Right now.  Like I had forgotten and now I can’t bare to forget.  A song you’d dig came on and

I don’t need a new blog (which I had written out and have since deleted) detailing Mike’s business.  Or my business.  Our former business.  He deserves

I hear you disease. Scanning last nights radiance with scrutinizing eyes, laser focused on the underwear line from the underwear I never wear. The “chest fat”.

I want to write about this, but I don’t want to violate anyone’s privacy or disrespect what’s happened.  As you know, I am very honest and

I can’t control some of the things that I once thought I could control.  The overarching idea is that sure, I can.  I can control my

It turns out that I had to get over my petty bullshit first.  I had to stop checking boxes.  I had to stop looking out and

It is different, for me.  I was told nothing would change, but it had already has.   I have.  The wedge that was blocking me from

I’d say I know it’s my grief, but I don’t know that.  I have no idea what this is, or what’s coming, or when.  What I