In utter contrast to the last decade of my life, I've briefly encountered peace.
My entire existence, at one point, branched out among the facts that I only ever awoke to feel the sting of yet another numbing high.
In other words, my conscious conscience's pestering finally noised out into my desperately wanting to, at least, give up a good fight this time.
I'm anxiously awaiting my brain's hopeful come-to.
I've got to come to.
If I don't, I may not see another birthday.
Thankfully, I'm sober today, writing this.
I'm more than enough to be classified blessed at the moment.
Funny.. I was
Stop.
It's actually another day again so Ive no idea where that was going.
I sing alot more now.
Someone once told me, after id confessed to not even listening to the radio in my car anymore, that that wasn't good and I should probably see a therapist and figure out why.
Turns out I didn't need ole psycho doc to tell me I'm crazy enough to figure it on my own.
(Lol Mama)
So I'm sober now and I'm singing. And I'm laying in a nice bed in an ever nicer apartment that I haven't paid a dime on. They say I'll be here at least six months.
FINE BY ME.
Thank you God.
I'm terrible at writing it seems to my dreaded self respondence.
And that's the justification I'm apparently using to rationalize why I haven't mentioned my Lord and Savior more in my story.
Thank you God.
