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November 20, 2019

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When you see yourself looking at the boy in the mirror, but with gray hair and a tank top.

May 24, 2018

I guess that's me in 29 years... I plan on making it there and then some. It's like I'm looking at my future self, grinning back on my journey - the mental and spiritual strength it's taken to see it through. I think a lot of the hardest parts are over and I'm really caught up in the sauce of this brighter future idea. I'm really grateful for knowing his name and now finally seeing his face - my dad, Kenny. I've been pondering my life and death

since I was 8 and blood tests on my government name came back negative. I've carried that sadness in my privileged blue eyes for years, like a napsack full of lead. I remember the day they took the blood sample. I wrote in another blog piece, my memory of exactly how my bed was positioned along with the square box of Kleenex on my nightstand the evening I cracked and cried about this fellow for what seemed forever. I lost my favorite 5th grade teacher the following year to breast cancer. Next year came puberty, the parting of social class waters, some hooligan activities with my fists and fingers in and out of school, Tupac taking on a father's voice for me a year after his own death, and when my grandma died unexpectedly in 1999, my eighth grade year, I was ready to die too. I've been waiting for "easy" for a long time.  At 14 was the closest I would ever come to making it happen on my own, eating 30 Tylenols by the pair with a Sprite until I got tired of counting. It may have been 40.. I've always been a passionate person, theatrical by nature actually, very expressive and open-minded. It's been a dark battle at times in my life to keep that passion applied in a positive manner, because depression, ptsd, and being without so much family is surely cause for chronic dis-ease. Art, music, and big ideas for myself saw me through, I can't stress that enough. I was done crying over him years ago, using the logic at some point that he didn't even know about me, turning my anger into sympathy for this man with a kid in the world that he deserved to know, also. Like we were both taking our licks, even though mine have hurt more. But of course, passionate me is breaking out in tears again like a pregnant lady without her snacks. I'm still running everything back in my head. The 88s, the 91s, the 95s and 99s, the 2004s and 2007s.. definitely 2013... and everything in between. So many years I was mad and envious of other people who used words like "dad, daddy, old man" and so on. So many years I just wanted to know my last name. You should get the idea. So many times I was on that edge and considering dismissal of the journey I was given the opportunity to continue. But now look at me.. look at him.. look at us. One day soon we'll meet in person and I'll tell ya'll how his hugs feel. 

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