There are only people.

Every category that you could classify someone under has different spectrums within it. This is why it becomes so difficult to assign identities to groups. 

It is common for younger generations to throw hate toward elder generations, simply because the majority of the “boomer” population have similar views and prejudgements about the younger generations. But there is still a reason why it is also sort of a… trope, if you will, that elders are wise. But it has nothing to do with the physical age of their body.

Have you ever heard of someone referred to as an “old soul?” It’s usually used to describe young people who have a distinct wisdom in their ways. Like my son, for example. The things that he said and the ways that his beautiful mind worked, everyone could tell that he wasn’t a child on the inside. And sadly, he died before his time, but had he lived, he would have aged into what people may refer to as a “wiseman.”

When he learned of his diagnosis, he handled it with more grace and more stability than anyone I have ever known. He didn’t cry. Occasionally, he would have spells of rage, but those were only brought on by the steroid that they used to keep the swelling down in his head. Once his body was used to the medications, he became just this old little young little man with wisdom and serenity that I wish more than anything I could be. He was and still is an inspiration to anyone who hears the stories we tell about him. 

We never saw him show any indication that he was sad. He stayed strong, and he fought to survive with every last ounce of strength he had left until his brain literally could not function to keep him alive anymore. Human bodies are so fragile and pathetic. But his soul was far from. Even in the days and weeks and months leading up to his death, despite the suffering pain of being immobilized and fed through a tube, he continued to indicate that he wanted to continue the fight. I fought against doctors and ethic boards and family members and even myself sometimes, but I never gave up because he never did. 

Even when he could no longer use words, he found ways to communicate with me. I would ask him if he was ready to go, and he wouldn’t answer. But when I asked if he wanted to keep fighting, he would squeeze my hand and attempt to vocalize, even if it was a grunt. So, even though I was chastised for “prolonging his suffering,” and even though sometimes I catch myself wondering if I did the right thing, I always come back to the fact that I only did what he wanted. And I knew him well enough to know that that’s what he wanted. I fought for him, and Nebraska’s medical staff did not. The medical staff who are fucking around with Covid-19 like it’s just some sort of spoken curse than you can avoid by covering your eyes and ears and humming. But it isn’t. And they know it isn’t. And they knew that there were different things that we could have tried that would have helped buy him more time. But they refused those things. And whether it was over money or because they simply thought they knew what was best for him when what was really best was simply to respect his wishes, the point is, they were wrong. Money isn’t worth a human life. And taking away someone’s right to try to spend as much time alive as possible, even if that time is painful, is the same as murder. 

Again, I say that if you think you can force anyone to die because of what you think is right, then you absolutely must not stop those who are suffering from choosing when they are ready to stop it. The right thing to do in life or death situations is obey the choice of the person whose life is at stake. It is their right to decide. Do not treat others the way you want to be treated. Treat them how they want to be treated. And rest assured that you have done the right thing.

When I began this entry, I had originally come to talk about identity and what it means to be unique and why labels are a double-edged blade. But since it has seemed to digress into a different direction, I will instead send this one off with a new title and come back again later to revisit my initial topic. 

At the bottom of it all, I want to say that you can be pro-life without not being pro-choice. Sometimes pro-life is pro-choice. And if you’re thinking about ending your life, please at least do the following:

-Give the decision some very deep and scrutinous thought before you really make your move.

-Do not leave any loose threads. Get everything squared up and away so that you aren’t leaving anyone with the burden of your unfinished business. 

-Write an essay, record a video, do a podcast. Whatever medium you choose is fine, but you need to explain your reasoning. Don’t leave anyone wondering why you chose to do it, and don’t leave anyone with the burden of thinking that it was their fault. Express your feelings as transparently as possible. Acknowledge the pain that you will likely cause, but do not discount your own feelings either. 

It is my personal belief that physical death is not game over. The things that make death a terrifying and painful ordeal are the ambiguity of the unknown and the time spent waiting to find out. We will all get there eventually. So all we can do is accept it and look forward to it. The unknown doesn’t have to be scary. It can be exciting and exhilarating. It’s the ability to let go and try something new. All you need is the trust that when you leave your body, you will not lose your consciousness. That consciousness is what it means to exist. And while science may tell you that, to some degree, your body dictates your consciousness, consider the following:

Memories come and go. Sometimes, something that you thought you had completely forgotten returns very suddenly, and then you can’t possibly imagine how you could have forgotten it. Think of our brains like hard drives. There is only so much space for information storage. So what do we do when our computers can no longer hold the information? We upload it to the “cloud.” It can still be accessed from anywhere in time and space as long as you have the passcode. Files can be shuffled around and traded off to save space and are only dowloaded again when they are needed. Maybe each time you recall a long-lost memory, you also send an unnecessary one back to the cloud until it becomes necessary again. And maybe once your hard drive stops working, you pack up the remaining files and escape to the cloud to keep them safe.
Perhaps you meet up with some of the consciousnesses that you enjoyed time with, or maybe you find out that there are only maybe a handful of consciousnesses and you all channel yourselves into life as we know it, for fun, sort of like a video game.

Or maybe you find out that it’s just you. And all of existence was just a thing you made to occupy yourself.

You won’t know until you get there. But while you’re here, make the most of it. And when it’s time to go, embark on the next stage of your journey with serenity and grace. Prepare for the worst, but hope for the best. And expect that it will meet somewhere in between.


A Symple Thot

If you ever feel like your identity is being attacked by someone, try to remember this:
Most people try to avoid conflict at all cost, because conflict causes anxiety. So it is almost certain that if someone makes you feel invalid, it’s because they are feeling the exact same way. If you hate feeling like that, don’t make someone else feel that way.
Say how you feel if you must, but don’t be mean. Feelings are feelings. Everyone’s feelings are unique. It’s part of who they are. Focus less on the things that make them different, and redirect your attention to the things that unite you.
Everyone is a hypocrite at some point or other. But we are constantly growing and changing. Every moment is a new experience, and a chance to learn and grow. By the time you read this message, the person who wrote it will be long gone. But it’s okay. Because I am constantly being replaced with newer, more updated versions of myself.
It’s called being human. People can change. And they do. Some just take longer than others. So don’t stop taking chances on people. It’s better to have friends than enemies. One day they will wake up and feel completely removed from the person they were when you knew them last.
Wouldn’t you want another chance to disprove the idea that you’re a garbage person? Everyone does. So just relax. We’re in this together, for better or worse.

The Lamictal Crisis

I’ve always been interested in the Elisa Lam case. It’s strange how things seem to line up. When I first learned about it, it was around about the three year anniversary of her death, and I’d just started taking Wellbutrin.

Well, Netflix just came out with a short mini-series about the case, and it’s that same time of year again and I’ve started Wellbutrin again. So it’s kind of a weird blast from the past.

I forgot that she’d been taking Lamictal, which was what I’d been on last spring when things went to hell. The show had some new information, including the fact that it seemed she’d stopped taking her meds when the incident occurred. Her family said that previously when she’d stopped taking the meds, she would have bad psychotic breaks where she was delusional and paranoid and acting erratically.

It seemed like in the days leading up to her death, people reported her acting strangely. She’d had roommates at first who she’d been bothering with leaving weird notes on their beds and such. The hotel manager witnessed her coming into the lobby and yelling something random. She even went to some kind of live studio production where she wrote some long, rambling letter and tried to insist someone give it to the host. She was escorted out.

Now, I really don’t have a lot of memories from those three days back in April, so maybe I missed an initial dose or two which kickstarted everything and led me to miss more doses. But if suddenly stopping that medication can cause episodes like that, then I have to believe that’s what happened to me. I mean, things were looking brighter for me. It was spring. The garden was starting, the snow was gone, and I was just beginning to make an effort to reorganize my life. I bought a planner, I was trying to create routines to follow, I even had plans to rearrange the living room to make it more efficient.

I was starting to stand up and get my life together, so why would I randomly lose my shit? It doesn’t make any sense, unless there was specifically something screwing with my brain. It’s really no big surprise that I assumed I’d been drugged, especially given what followed. It seemed far too convenient. But maybe what happened to me really was just the straw that broke the camel’s back in that case, sadly.

If that hadn’t happened, though, I would’ve gotten better. I was working on it. I was making plans and starting routines and I was ready to heal. So it’s really unfortunate that what happened did and set me back so far for so long, removing crucial people from my life.

To make matters worse, of course, was the hospital starting me back up on a high dose right away, then having the doctor bounce me around on dosages, and me finally refusing to take it anymore because I didn’t like what it was doing to me, had possibly done to me, and I didn’t want it to happen again.

As I adjusted to being off it, I realized that I felt much better than I had in a long time, because if I’m honest, I really think that being on those types of medication really fucks with my head and makes me feel like I’m not myself. It’s like with the Wellbutrin. I decided to try it again because I thought it could help me quit smoking- a habit I took up again on my birthday, which was way too rough for me. I’d been on it before, and I didn’t strictly recall any side effects other than memory loss. However, when starting it up again, I realized that the memory loss was an issue because it also made me forget that there were other side effects. So for the first two weeks, I was just a complete mess. Crying constantly, making myself sick, anxiety through the ceiling, complete and utter despondency. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t enjoy anything. It was hell.

It’s finally, after three weeks, stabilized to the point where I’m able to eat and do things again. It’s still kind of kicking my anxiety up from time to time, but it hasn’t really helped me stop smoking, either, so… I’m trying to decide if I want to continue to be on it. I think I was doing well without some brain control pills fucking up my brain chemistry. Mostly, though, I don’t want to have to be forced into a commitment of that magnitude where I could easily end up missing a dose and having my world turn upside down again.

I prefer to be in control of my own head, which is why I am in therapy to learn skills for managing emotions and things like that. Because I want to be the one in control of my mind, not some foreign chemicals that could fuck me over if I forget them. Never again.

So anyway, I know I went on a long tangent, but everyone had this idea that I went crazy because of the self medication I was doing to feel better, which was working for me and was only a temporary solution until I could get health insurance, which I now have. I have been off of those pills for many months. But I look back with this new information and I just have to say that I really don’t believe that my self medication was the actual cause. Like I said, I’d been getting back on my feet and was ready to get my life back together. I thought we were going to be looking for a house soon. I had plans that all went to hell when the incident occurred. And the grief from that really set me back a lot. For a very long time.

I know that no one cares to know the truth about what actually happened, and that everyone wants to see me as a crazy bitch and blame the pills I was using to help myself. But just remember:

I’d used those pills randomly throughout my life since high school, and nothing like that had ever happened before. Nothing like that ever happened again after I put my foot down and stopped fucking around with the lamictal. So believe what you want to, but the evidence is there.

For what it’s worth, I haven’t felt like I needed any sort of medication in many months. I’ve made a lot of progress and come a long way. No amount of therapy or conditioning will fill the voids in my life that my kids and soulmate used to inhabit. That will always be a struggle. But I am better equipped to deal with it now.

Sadly, my music and art skills have never returned, and I’m starting to suspect that they won’t. It’s another big hole in my life that can never be filled. But I’m really hoping that maybe I won’t have to say goodbye to my daughter forever, and then I can take all that time and effort and pour it into her instead of pointless, stupid bullshit like art and music. No one needs that. No one even liked it when I did do it. So maybe this turning point in my life is the cosmos telling me I need to give up on that crap and just be a parent instead.

But… if it ends up that I can’t do that either, then I don’t know what kind of life I will have. One where I’ll never be happy, I guess. And maybe that’s what I deserve after being such an abysmal person for so long. I really did try every day to be better. I just went through a really long period where the people I most needed refused to be there for me when I told them I felt like I was losing my grip. It’s why I turned to the pills in the first place. So please do not blame me so harshly. It really isn’t all my fault, even if I sometimes tell myself it is.

I reached out. A lot. I voiced my needs and concerns. But nobody helped me. So I had to help myself the only way I knew how at the time, and everyone seemed to prefer me that way, so it just continued.

I’m truly sorry about what happened. Not just in April, but the previous year. Losing so much all at once really takes its toll on a person, and frankly, forcing me to lose even more than that last year over one mysterious incident… it wasn’t fair to me. It really messed me up a lot, and I’m honestly extremely lucky I survived it, because there was one extremely low point in late June- early July where I very nearly didn’t make it. They kept jerking me around with all different medications that were exacerbating already present issues, and the stress alone was starting to really destroy my body. If I hadn’t gotten out and spent some time at a hotel nursing myself back to health, I probably wouldn’t be here now.

So… whether that’s a good thing or not isn’t up to me, it’s up to the people who have to tolerate me. And I hope I’m tolerable enough by now that they’re glad I survived.

Don’t ghost.

Learn to work through problems, rather than running away from them. One day there will come a problem that you can’t run from, and if running is all you’ve ever known, you will not have the skills you need to make it through that situation.
You may think it’s healthy to ghost people you find “toxic,” but it’s really not. You’re not only taking the easy way out and depriving yourself of useful life lessons, but you’re also causing serious psychological harm to someone who is probably already suffering from that.
Quite often, the people we tend to think of as “toxic” are just hurting and need help. It’s likely that they’ve been abandoned numerous times throughout their lives because those they rely on for support just write them off as “toxic,” give up on them, and resort to ghosting, rather than seeing them as another human being with feelings and needs.
Yes, you have needs too. But you cannot simply destroy another person’s life to meet those needs. You need to learn how to voice those needs. 90% of the time when people get ghosted, it’s very sudden and they don’t know what they did wrong. So how can they know what your needs are if you’re too afraid to let them know? Why punish them for your own shortcomings? If you’re a selfish and cowardly enough person to punch a permanent hole in the life of someone who loves you, then maybe consider that you’re “toxic,” too. And if they still love you even after you’ve done this to them, maybe they’re not as toxic as you thought. Maybe you threw away a really precious thing that’s hard to come by called unconditional love. Maybe you could both find happiness if you didn’t shove it away out of selfish fear. How can you expect to receive what you, yourself can’t even give?

All the goddamn lies.

They’re fucking giving him custody. Which means that all the shit they put me through over the last nine months was for literally nothing. They kept telling me that it was all to get Ivy back, but they lied straight to my face.

I can’t lose my last living child, a person that I created inside my own body through months of suffering. They’re taking her away from me and letting the person who only partook in the fun part of her creation have her. People kept telling me that courts usually favor the mother, but not this one. This one just likes to stab at me and watch me fucking squirm while they laugh.

After months of the so-called case worker claiming that she wanted to see me succeed, and that I was doing everything to get her back, she comes right out and tells me she literally doesn’t give a shit about me at all, can’t care, and is allegedly only interested in helping Ivy, but that’s been bullshit from the beginning. Otherwise, certain things would’ve been done, she would’ve listened to anything I said, and she certainly wouldn’t be doing this. Ivy needs a mother. Especially as she gets older, she’s going to need a mom.

And I really am sorry. I should have said fucking cunt.

Nothing that I did is deserving of this. I have done everything they’ve ever asked me, I’ve shown that I am willing to do whatever it takes for her and that I am a fit parent. Nothing that I ever did that caused this shit in the first place was worth doing this to me over.

I never hit her. I never hurt her. He did. I even provided photographic evidence, and they just wiped their asses with it and told me to go fuck myself. I may not have been as much of a mom as I should have been after consecutively losing my son, losing my house, coming back to live in a PTSD funhouse, getting fucked over by the only two men I trusted, getting pushed away and neglected by the one who swore to love and care for me always, and then losing a dear friend while knowing that I could have spoken to him more and didn’t.

A lot of shit was going wrong for me, and no one was helping. I was struggling to get help for myself with zero insurance, but I kept getting denied. My therapist even bailed on me. So it’s not like I wasn’t trying, my needs just weren’t being met.

Then Covid started moving in alongside the election pressure, and I was terrified. The anxiety was terrible, and it was too much. Anyone could have been there for me, maybe tried to help me find the help I was looking for, when everything I was trying was failing, but nobody wanted to. Everyone gave up on me.

But what happened last year was an anomaly. Unprecedented, never happened again. And yet in spite of that, they still don’t see any point in testing the samples I took of my drink to see if it was drugged, and maybe that’s what made me go fucking crazy, and they think that this one fucking stupid-ass never-before-never-again occurrence is worth removing my daughter from my life permanently.

Nobody actually wants me to succeed, wants me to be happy, wants anything that might actually benefit me in any way. I’ve worked and suffered hard for the last nearly year for nothing. For a lie. A hollow promise. Just like everyone else always fucking makes. “I’ll never leave you.” “I’ll always be here for you.” “You can trust me.”

I’m like the horse with the carrot tied to a stick, dangling in front of its face to make it walk, work, all for the promise of this godforsaken carrot that it’s never actually going to get. The carrot is a ruse. The daughter is a ruse. It’s all been a bunch of lies to see how fast they could make this monkey dance, for what? Entertainment?? Because it certainly hasn’t made things better. Everything is now worse than ever.

I give it my 100%, and it’s never good enough. Nothing I do is ever good enough. I’m not good enough. I serve no purpose. What good am I to this world if I can’t be a mother? That was the only purpose I ever truly knew I had in life. I wanted to be a mother since I was 16. I didn’t know what the future would hold or what I would do with my life outside of that one thing that drove me to exist.

But my son fucking died. I couldn’t prevent this. And now they’re taking my daughter out of my fucking life as well!? I’m not having anymore kids, that was something I knew as soon as Faron died. But I thought I could spend the rest of my life having this beautiful daughter at least… Now that’s fucking ruined, too. And for what?! What did I honestly do to deserve to lose her forever?!

It feels like everyone is working together to keep pulling all the strings. Pushing me and pushing me closer and closer to the edge, hoping that I’ll eventually have nowhere to go but over. Just keep on fucking taking everything away that actually means anything to me in my life. Ruin it.

What the fuck is the goddamn point now? I’ve been so strong, and I’ve fought so hard, and now I’m finding out that it never mattered. Because I don’t matter, so why should anything I do matter?


Guilt, forgiveness, and fight.

I watched a movie tonight. “A Monster Calls.” It kind of destroyed me, but it also put something into perspective for me and made me understand something a little better.

It was about a boy whose mother had cancer, and he kept having these recurring nightmares about his mom falling of a cliff and him holding onto her hand and trying to keep her from dropping. Then a tree monster (Liam Neeson) started coming to him and telling him stories and said he would eventually force him to tell his own story (the nightmare).

He didn’t want to tell because he was ashamed that at the end of the dream, he let go and let her fall. Because he wanted it to end. He hated knowing that she was going to die and couldn’t stand it and wanted the pain to end. He didn’t want her gone, so much as he just wanted the pain to end… wanted it to stop looming over him, keeping him in limbo, waiting for the blow to fall.

It made me understand what it must be like to have to deal with someone who has suicidal tendencies.

The threat is always there, hanging overhead like a cloud heavy with rain. It could start pouring down at any minute, but you can’t tell when, so you can never let your guard down. It gets tiring. Exhausting.

It’s human nature to be selfish. People don’t realize how exhausting it is to be a cancer patient, clinging to every precious moment of their life they have left, or how exhausting it is to feel like no one appreciates you and that your existence is a plague upon everyone you love… constantly trying to decide if you cause more harm being alive than you’d cause if you died.

The thing is, though, death just happens. It could always come at any time for any reason. People just push that fact to the back of their minds when things are fine and everyone is healthy.

But that’s never something I was able to do, especially after what happened to Faron. I always knew it could just happen suddenly and knock the wind out of me. It’s part of what kept me so on edge and so scared of life.

But I fought for Faron until they forced me to stop. Even though I knew it was useless and even though people called me cruel, and even though it killed me to see him that way.

When people abandon me and give up on me for feeling suicidal, it only reaffirms the thoughts that cause me to feel that way. Today, I feel that a lot of people are extremely lucky that I did live through Ben’s abandonment. Or at least, that’s how I think they probably feel. Because I have to remind myself that just because people make me feel like shit about myself and just because the guilt of all my mistakes constantly weighs down on me and makes me feel sorry for existing, not everyone else feels like that about me.

Most of the things I look back on and remember with extreme guilt are things that nobody else even remembers. And they go really far back into my childhood, too. The first guilty memory I can recall is when I was super little and my mom had taken my letter blocks and glued them together to make a sign for my door that had my name on it. And I was a dumb-ass little kid, so instead of noticing that mommy tried to do something nice for me, I was upset that my blocks were stuck together. And it hurt her feelings a lot until she threw it down and they broke apart and she left the room, crying. Even as a 2 or 3-year-old kid, that guilt weighed me down, and it was only the first of so many things I wished I could take back and not have put people through.

And that brings me to the topic of forgiveness. One thing I’ve always been is too forgiving. It gets me hurt more often than it serves me well. No one has ever been as forgiving of me as I’ve been of them, especially myself. How is it so easy for me to forgive others for hurting me in seriously lasting and hopelessly damaging ways, but when it comes to me, I can’t even forgive myself for being a dumb toddler? Maybe it’s because no one ever forgives me, and so I feel like I’m not worthy of forgiveness. Maybe I feel like I’m the only one who deserves to suffer because I’m so used to it by now, it’s like my second language.

And that’s another thing that people, being the selfish creatures they can’t help but be, don’t seem to understand: how exhausting it is to have to be strong for everyone else, constantly neglecting yourself, while they refuse to be strong for you in return and eventually let go and give up on you. This is why that feeling of unease and uncertainty never goes away. Because it’s not just death. People leave me all the time, and it’s rarely from death. Usually, it’s because I’m the one on the edge of the cliff, grasping to the hand that eventually lets me go because they want it to end.

They don’t realize that I backed myself up to that cliff fighting all their battles as well as my own, all by myself until I was outnumbered and it was their turn to help me fight. But when the time came for them to step up and put in their part of the effort, they copped out. Instead of seeing me as a person who needs their help, they see me as the only battle worth fighting, and they fight me off the cliff, rendering all my previous fighting worthless.

And still, somehow I always get back up, and I always forgive. I will always regret any amount of pain I put another person through, because somehow it is easier to forgive others for pushing me off a cliff than it is to forgive myself for being too young and dumb to appreciate a kind gesture from my mother when I was 2 or 3.

I understand that it is difficult to deal with a person who is oftentimes convinced that their life is a burden on those they love. I do. I can legitimately understand it now, and I can even forgive it, but that doesn’t make it right.

My father walked out on me before I was even born because I was too much work and too much trouble to put up with. I hadn’t even had a chance to even do anything other than simply exist, and even that was too much. Then, slowly, throughout my life, it kept happening. Friends, potential step-dads, boy/girlfriends… Even before I grew to have suicidal thoughts, people continuously gave up on me, walked out on me, abandoned me. Even the goddamn telephone man, who I’m pretty sure was my uncle playing a fucked up prank on me. It’s probably a huge part of the reason I started having those thoughts and feelings. People didn’t want me around, and it was damaging. It started making me believe that being around was wrong… cruel, even. Like if people wanted away from me so badly, then why did I ever have the audacity to exist near them at all? I forgave my father for abandoning me before birth, and of course, he just did it again, because even as an adult living across town from him and rarely attempting to make plans, I was still just too much work and not worth the effort.

When the feelings first began, and I started actually attempting, it just made people angry at me. The only person who’s ever actually told me that I’m wrong and that they want me around is my mom. Everyone else just made the whole thing about how shitty I was to hurt them. Obviously, that only helped those feelings get stronger as the guilt gripped me harder. No one cares that I was hurting, only that they were hurt, and so the guilt was always placed on my shoulders. They’d inevitably leave me, they’d make it my fault, and then the guilt and the feelings of not being wanted would just snowball.

If fewer people had left me in my life, it’s possible things wouldn’t have ever reached that point. The worst part is that things were finally, finally starting to really get better for me when the cancer thing happened and threw my entire world out of whack. I lost my son, then my home, then most of Ben as he started pushing me away. Then, finally, the rest of him as he did what everyone else always does, and made it even worse by getting my last living child taken away from me.

I honestly don’t know how I survived. The stress alone almost had me a couple of times… malnourishment, bad reactions to new medications they kept thrusting onto me… things like that which had nothing to do with being suicidal and everything to do with grieving over so much… and for such a long time.

Yet here I stand, having managed to pick myself up yet again and keep going, even if some days I feel like I’m exerting every last ounce of my life force to do so.

The only person I can really count on is myself, yet I’ve let myself down more times than I can count. I hope you know that no one asks to be this way. It was never my dream to grow up with no self worth or self respect, and to be thrown out like garbage again and again by everyone I’ve ever known. I didn’t ask to be suicidal, and god knows I’ve tried to get help. The problem was, I was never insured. And when I was too down to try any longer, that’s when I really needed my life partner to step up and help me. God knows, I’d tried to help him get help, but he always declined my offers and I reached a point where I couldn’t help anyone anymore because I was too exhausted from being the rock. I needed someone else to take the wheel for a bit.

And I guess it was my fault for expecting them not to crash the car and leave me for dead.

However, now that I am finally insured, I have been able to get better help than I was able to before. I can actually get therapy and afford medications and so for now, even though I’m still extremely grief-stricken and far from being happy, I haven’t really had those suicidal feelings like before. Mostly, my fight comes from my daughter and knowing that she needs me, even if she says she doesn’t, which kind of hurts coming from a 6-year-old. A girl needs a mom. I may not always get along perfectly with my own mother, but god, where would I be without her? Somewhere I never want Ivy to have to be.

Wait and hope.

There are two parts of me that are constantly at war inside; one that wants to learn to hate him and move on somehow, and one that wants to remain devoted, no matter what.

He said he’d never leave me, and he did. So how can I trust that he’ll never want to try to make things work?

I know now the degree to which I hurt him. I didn’t mean to, of course. I didn’t mean to decline the way I did. And I didn’t realize how much I was making him pay for it because I was too blinded by pain to see anything other than my own needs.

I still don’t think that was a justifiable excuse to do the things he did, but it’s done. It can’t be undone. I’m not trying to say that my pain was a justifiable reason to be shitty and lay down and die, either, but if he had been there for me, things could have been better.

This is how the back and forth goes in my head.

I respect him as a person and see him as a human being who deserved my best, even when my best wasn’t possible.

But I’m a person too, and I needed more than just someone to cook and drive. I needed a companion, and when he blew me off for other people, video games, or just whatever else, when he pushed me away in my darkest hour… it’s why things got so bad.

He was focusing on the wrong things. I appreciated him cooking and doing chores when he didn’t need to, but it wasn’t what I needed.

I needed his presence.

I still do.

I hate this limbo, this hell. I’m just going through the motions, waiting for something different to happen. I feel like I’m on autopilot, and autopilot isn’t where my passion and creativity live, so I have not been at all productive this entire time. It pains me.

I have my Korg all to myfuckingself now, but no motivation or inspiration to actually use it. I have quiet and privacy for all the things I wanted it for then, but now that I have it, I can’t make the most of it.

Things really went to shit. :,/

Like, they want me to be better, and I want to be better… in many ways I am better, but if they think keeping me from my daughter is going to do anything other than fuel the bad parts, they’re fucking stupid. I’m sorry, they just are.

They do know that the loss of my son is what drove me to the point I got to, right? And so they think taking away my last remaining child is going to …..? Somehow have the opposite effect??

I think they don’t want me to get better. They want to see me fail, because they think the fact that I’m assertive and defensive makes me a bad parent. But they can go straight to hell.

Maybe if my mom had been more assertive and defensive of me, it’s possible I wouldn’t have grown up with so many problems. Maybe I always needed someone to stand up for me and help me fight, rather than just jumping on every bandwagon full of antagonists. I always fought for everyone I care about. And it was never enough. It didn’t save Faron and it didn’t matter to Ben, or Emily, or my mom, or anyone, ever.

Maybe the best way I can help people really is to just stay away from them.

I’m a disease. No one wants me.

I do need to stick around for Ivy, of course, because even though I suck as a person, I am a good mom. No one understands her like I do, and she’s really going to need a mom as she starts getting older.

Honestly, I doubt Ben even wants her. He probably just doesn’t want me to have her, and she doesn’t need to be stuck with someone who only wants her around as a revenge tactic. Seriously. The shit he did when she was taken away? He was in fucking paradise while I was over here literally wasting away from grief. A good parent doesn’t go live it up when they lose their kid, Casey Anthony. A parent who truly loves their child can’t live without them. It’s why I declined after I lost Faron and what remained of him in the house. It’s why I lost 50 pounds in four months when I couldn’t get out of bed, or eat, or do anything but waste away and try to kill the pain.

If you need proof of who the better parent is, it’s all right there. Providing for a child without truly loving them is an obligation that can harbor resentment. Take that into account as he began to resent me when he had to care for me for a long enough period of time.

True love of a child (or person) drives you to want to provide for them. And that’s why I’m participating in all this bullshit and trying to get my shit sorted out and get the fuck out of here, even though it feels some days like it’s taking all the life force I have left. If he really wanted her, he would have gotten a better job by now that doesn’t have him working hours where he misses 90% of her life while he pawns her off on his parents.

He walked out because he wanted to focus on himself.

They’re not making him do shit. I don’t get to focus on myself, not in the ways that actually help. Instead I’m forced to focus on “myself” in ways that they think are helpful. They don’t know me, god damn it. No one knows me better than me, and the shit they’re putting me through is the goddamn opposite of fucking helpful.

My fucking foot is breaking out in that stress rash again, and I’ve got those horizontal stress ridges in my nails again, which I haven’t had in a very long time.

Please be better.

I hope…

I really want this year to be better in as many conceivable ways as possible. But more than that, or… honestly, just as much, I want to be better. I want to do better. I want to be treated better and treat others better.

I want things to heal. I want new beginnings. I want to stop hurting and stop being hurt.

Please, just give me a second chance to be someone better, because I know I can do it. I’ve done it before, I just… I lost my way. So many horrible things happened to me in such a short amount of time. I needed help that no one was giving. I was trying to get myself help, but couldn’t. I did what I thought was the best I could under the circumstances, but it’s possible I was wrong. It’s probable that I was wrong. There was some other way, some other path that I was missing. And now…

To say that I’ve learned my lesson would be a massive understatement. I’ve learned many lessons this year, most of which I didn’t want to learn, and shouldn’t have had to learn in the ways that I did. I was treated worse than the lowest of lows in some regards. And maybe I didn’t deserve it all, but I surely deserved some. Right?

Anyway, I don’t want to turn this into some kind of lame New Year’s Resolution post. I just want to send my hopes and wishes out into the void, on the off-chance that some deity or human in control might answer them, preferably with something other than a “no.”

That’s all I’ve gotten my entire life, except when I said something I didn’t mean; That always got answered with a “yes.” Please… let this time be different. I give chances upon chances to everyone, even people I know will hurt me again. This time, please just let me be the one allowed a second chance. That’s all I ask, and after everything I’ve been through to bring me to this moment, I think, possibly, it’s the least I deserve.


Barbecued Brains

Are you tired of your same old me, the way I am? Well good news, readers! Soon, you won’t ever have to deal with that version of me again! In fact, if you wish on your lucky stars as soon as possible, there’s a chance you might never have to deal with me again at all!

That’s right, folks! I’m talking brain electrocution! Soon, I’ll be stuck to a table with something jammed in my mouth to keep me from biting my tongue, while electricity is blasted into my brain for three hours, three days a week, ultimately re-programming my personality to make people like me! But wait! There’s more!!

Given the incredible dangerousness of such a procedure, there’s also the risk of death on the table by heart attack, followed by stroke! Or… was it stroke, followed by heart attack? I can’t remember the exact order of the total unpleasantness of death by ECT, but it doesn’t really matter, because fatality is fatality, any way you slice it.

So, if your deep loathing for me goes even deeper than just a sharp distaste for the person I currently am, and you would rather I didn’t exist at all, there’s still time to submit your lottery tickets in the form of quiet hoping, wishing on stars, performing dark magic rituals, or just regular old voodoo dolls. If you’re above the lottery and don’t want to try your luck and, if you happen to be extremely wealthy, there’s a chance you might be able to pay the doctor under the table to botch the procedure! After all, that’s what they have malpractice insurance for, isn’t it!?

So kick back and relax, readers! Wrap yourself in a nice, warm blanket of the knowledge that no matter what happens, the Sunny you’ve come to know and hate will not be around to darken your doorways (or Internet) much longer!

Oh, and don’t forget! Before I can get ECT, I have to participate in a series of blood tests to make sure I have a clean bill of health beforehand. So if your hatred of me goes beyond simply wanting me to die quickly, you can also choose to cast your lottery tickets toward me dying in a more slow and painful way, such as cancer or blood disease!

Until next time~

A Final Farewell, and a Thorough Apology

Since I apparently only write heartfelt and honest things for my health, I figured I may as well share here the long and thorough apology that I wrote. That way it at least means something. Even if it’s just for me.


I feel as though I have not been as thorough as possible in giving you the apology that you deserve. You probably won’t even read this, but even knowing that to be the case, I cannot move forward feeling better about myself if I do not at least try. So…

I’m sorry. Really. Truly. From the bottom of my broken heart, in the immortal words of Brittney Spears.

I know that you feel that I rushed you into a relationship, and for that, I apologize. I didn’t realize. I fell for you, head over heels, faster than a drunk in a room full of trip-wires. My love for you sort of blinded me to the simple facts. That is my fault, and I am sorry. It just seemed to me at the time that you were feeling the same way. But now you say that wasn’t the case, and so please accept a sincere apology for my clumsy mistake and misunderstanding.

Next, I want to apologize for the way I treated you during my first trimester of pregnancy. Though it wasn’t really my fault, per se, any more than a trans person adjusting to hormone therapy. Hormones fuck you up, and so I must emphasize that much of the time I was an asshole, it was due to my body adjusting to having a baby inside me, and then later having to readjust to being… just me. You cannot possibly imagine what it’s like to have to share your body with another human… plus, if the paternal chimaerism thing is true, then I probably also had parts of you flowing through me, possibly causing me to exhibit some of your own mood problems, and may also explain why I was sort of repelled by you for a little while.

But I’m not literally trying to justify myself, because if I did, it wouldn’t be an apology. I just want you to understand that I wasn’t entirely myself. I can’t say I don’t know what was wrong with me, but knowing doesn’t make it make anymore sense in my head.

I was not me. And me apologizes for treating you so shamefully after forcing you into a situation that you couldn’t easily get out of.

I understand how frightened and alone you must have felt, because I’m feeling it now, and it is the worst. So please, please, PLEASE. Accept my humble apology for treating you so horribly and making you feel the way I do now. No one deserves to hurt this badly. And I know that I have apologized to you for this before, numerous times, but this apology is special because it is coming from a me that is feeling trapped, isolated, and lonely, just as I made you feel back then. So now when I apologize, it is from a place of complete understanding. I know exactly what I did, and regardless of what caused it or how little control I really had, Ben… please believe me when I say that I am so, so sorry.

I never meant to hurt you. But I did. Countless times. And much like you, or at least the you I once knew, I can’t stop kicking myself around for the mistakes I made and all the ways that I hurt you.

I am sorry for all the things I did when I was recovering, postpartum. I am sorry for making you feel so bad you compared me to Kyuubeh. I am sorry for experimenting with drinking. I am sorry for the fight at my grandparents’ house, when I threw that heavy thing at you. None of these behaviors were okay, and there is no excuse. I could have tried harder and been better.

And you have to understand that this sort of thing was why I started using. It was obvious that my emotions made me a shitty person. And you took yourself elsewhere and started talking to new people without me. And it hurt because I knew it meant that I wasn’t making you happy enough. I wasn’t enough.

And I wanted you to be happy. So instead of telling you to cut it off with your new friends, I decided that if I could just stifle my emotions down to a dull roar, maybe it could work and I could learn to accept you talking to others.

Please understand that I was only afraid that you would grow away from me and leave. And that is exactly what happened.

I know that this is an apology letter, but as it is also my final letter, I do have to digress for a moment and say something that desperately needs and deserves to be said. Please, if you’ve read this far, don’t stop now. I deserve to say this.

I was doing what I thought was in your best interest, in spite of my better judgement. I gave you the freedom you wanted and put my feelings, concerns, and insecurities on the back burner. For the very first time, Ben, you had my full and complete trust. And giving you that got me exactly what I always feared it would, which was why I have always been afraid to ever trust anyone completely. But I trusted you.

I trusted you with Brandon, knowing full well that he had tried to fuck up our relationship in the past.

And as for your friends welcoming you back with open arms, well duh. They hated me from the beginning without having ever met me. They hated our relationship because it took you away from them, which automatically made me the enemy. So of course they’re going to welcome you back with open arms!! That dumb bitch is out of the way, and it’s bros before hoes again!!

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that. But I guess you’re happier this way, so I suppose I am happy for you, in spite of myself.


I won’t continue to banter on about all of that. I just needed to say it because it needs to be heard. That is the one defense I am actually putting up in all of this, and now that it’s done, I would like to continue my apology.

I fell apart when Faron got his diagnosis. I know that you suffered too, but I don’t think that you quite fathom the impact it had on me, as he was my blood child. My baby that I birthed. Even if you can imagine it happening to Ivy and understand that sort of pain, you still couldn’t possibly understand what it feels like to spend 9 months creating a life inside your own body, and over a year recovering from giving birth to this person, only to watch them slowly die in front of you. It’s a slap in the face.

But that’s probably just coming off as another justification, and that’s not what I’m aiming for. What I’m trying to get across is that at the worst possible time in my life, you were there for me, AND for him. You took care of my little boy as if he were your own, and it takes a very special sort of person to do that.

I thank you for everything you did. And I apologize wholeheartedly for making you do that while I fell apart. Sure there’s a decent excuse, whatever, it’s still something that I probably could have and definitely SHOULD have tried harder to control. But I failed, and I am sorry.

Four years. You spent half of his entire life with him. Which also means that for half of his life, I was spending time on you that I could have spent with him. Particularly in the beginning, when we were lost in each other and demanding privacy constantly. I want to say that I don’t regret the time I spent with you, but circumstances being what they are, I feel like I got gypped pretty hard. I guess I’m kind of digressing again into another things that needs to be said, but again, I intend for this to be my very last attempt to talk to you, so I need to be as thorough as possible and leave nothing unsaid. No loose ends, like you did to me.

Ben… so much of the time I spent with you, trusting that it was a forever kind of thing that I wouldn’t regret, was time in Faron’s unfortunately finite amount of life that I could have spent with him instead. If I had known that this is how things would end, I must admit that I would have ended things during my first trimester and spent every waking moment possible building more memories with my son. Perhaps then, he wouldn’t have developed all of the mental issues he had. I think that he felt very abandoned. Another thing I did wrong, but I can’t apologize to him now because he’s gone, and I fucked that up.

If you were still with me, I wouldn’t have so many regrets, but now it sort of feels overwhelmingly like… I made a choice between the two of you, somehow. And I chose you. And because of that, I lost him. But I thought that you would still be here, despite my long history of always being the dumpee, never the dumper. I gave you that trust that you always lusted after and got so upset when I couldn’t just hand it over. :/

Once, you literally asked me “why can’t you just trust me that I’ll never leave you?” Well, now you know. Because the moment I gave you that trust, you destroyed it, just like everyone else.

I feel- and this is just my feelings, you don’t have to give a flying fuck, but- that if you had any humanity in you at all, you would take to heart this fact that you stole precious, finite time away from a child’s mother and then dishonored him and made it all a humongous waste by doing what you did. He wouldn’t want this. He loved you like a second father. He said you should marry me. He would have wanted you to try to work things out, rather than just suddenly jumping ship with ZERO fucking discussion and going out of your way to make me suffer by spreading bullshit about me, and turning all of my friends against me so that I would have no one to turn to.

I’m sorry, but what you did to me was beyond fucked up.

HOWEVER. I hope this should be my last little intermission of expression of my own personal thoughts and feelings, which you will most likely ignore, assuming that you’ve even read this far, which I seriously doubt, but as I said before…

I have to at least try.

And so while I am apologizing, let me just go ahead and apologize for having the weakness to add in bits about my personal feelings, rather than just sticking to the point at hand. I’m sorry, but I do feel that it was necessary. Please accept my apology.

Coming to the end here, I want to apologize for scaring the shit out of you. Assuming that you legitimately didn’t drug me (I’ll never know for sure, because they refuse to test the goddamn tea swabs… maybe I’ll send them to a lab my damn self. 🤷🏻‍♀️), then I honestly have no idea what the hell possessed me those three days when I went apeshit and was not myself.

I am sorry.

I remember bits and pieces here and there, and I think that I was just subconsciously picking up on things that were taking place behind my back, and the more I realized, the angrier I got. It’s not an excuse, just an explanation. I couldn’t express myself properly, so I used weird-ass comparisons to try to explain what I meant, which just made things worse. It was honestly one of the scariest things that’s ever happened to me, so I can only really imagine how terrifying it must have been from the other side.

I don’t like myself when I’m angry at all, much less in a fit of rage like that… I’ve never been that way. It scares me to think of, and I regret that it happened.

I regret how much I frightened Ivy… and you.

I am so, so sorry. I wish I could say that, like all the other things I’ve apologized for, it was something that I could have and should have controlled better, but… since I literally don’t have a solid reason for what happened, it was literally out of my control.

Everyone but the CPS losers think it’s highly suspect that I just suddenly “went crazy,” and then you took off. It seems too convenient, and so I must also apologize for suspecting foul play. It’s all that makes sense. And even if you didn’t drug me, it’s possible that someone else did, or so the case worker claims.

So drugs can’t be ruled out. That is, drugs outside of the simple cold pills that I had been taking which had never caused such an effect on me.

But whatever happened, whatever caused it, it hasn’t happened again, and I pray that it won’t. I have been off of severe mood-altering medications (like lamictal, lithium, etc) and have been taking nothing other than gabapentin for my anxiety. I haven’t been using dex. I’ve been much more clear and level headed, which is why I’m finally writing you this letter. I wanted time to make sure that I was basically myself again, and I do seem to be, albeit extremely terrified, isolated, and lonely. I’m attempting to work on getting past that, but part of the healing process is facing you with these things…

Apologizing for the ways I screwed up and begging you to understand the ways that you did. Please. You cannot just walk out of my life one day with no discussion whatsoever. It’s like you’re dead. Literally ghosting.

I hope you know that this experience has taught me a valuable lesson. I have no longer contemplated suicide, thanks to your fantastic display of how selfish and shitty it is to make the choice to forcibly remove yourself from the lives of people who love you and need you, leaving them with a gaping hole in their heart and no way to ever speak to you again, loose ends, etc.

Finally. I got perspective. I saw what I had been threatening to do, so many times, and it just clicked and I understood. Even though I never actually successfully did it, I made threats and attempts, and for that… Ben… I am more sorry than you can possibly imagine.

See… I’ve never really had to deal with anyone like me. Not until semi recently, actually, and now it’s like… astonishing. I keep thinking “Jesus fuck, this is what everyone I’ve ever known has had to put up with…” And yes, I admit that for a moment, I thought fleetingly, that if I had just managed to pull it off successfully, it probably would have been a huge relief to everyone. But the thought faded just about as soon as it came, as I realized thinking that way was basically the same as wishing my friend would just get it over with, which I would never, ever say. And so it’s put a lot of things into perspective for me, and I made a solemn vow to myself that in addition to erasing the idea of suicide from my head, I would also be there for her, like no one ever has for me. She checks herself into the psych ward practically every other week, and I’m always here when she calls. I always help put things in perspective for her and keep her head above water. Even when I’m also struggling. Because that’s just who I’ve always been.

Just like with me adjusting to my hormones changing for pregnancy and postpartum, I know that she is dealing with a lot in her hormone therapy. So I can’t blame her for her feelings.

I want you to know that I mean every word of what I’ve said when I’ve made my apologies. And I’m sorry for declining so badly after the eviction. But please at least understand that I had just lost two of the most important things in m my life, and then immediately had to return to a ptsd nightmare that I hadn’t faced in ten years.

Please understand that when I started getting weird about Emily, it was just because I was jealous of you and Brandon, and I missed having history with someone. I feel like such a ghost here. I’m so far removed from everything I ever knew, and I have no history here. No old high school friends, nothing. And you always, always compared me to him- this person you said you once had a crush on- and so… I just felt like I was just this familiar that you settled for because I was like him, but available. :/ It was very damaging. And you basically left me for him, so… I guess I was justified in feeling that way, but still…

I’m sorry for putting you through all that Emily bullshit and most likely making you feel… well… the same way you made me feel, which isn’t right.

I’m sorry. There is no excuse for making you feel a way that I knew from experience was devastating. I am so, so sorry.

And I know that it probably means nothing to you, but I haven’t really thought of her at all since you left. I simply don’t care anymore. It was just a weird phase I was going through because of stupid, irrational feelings I was having. And I’m sorry for all of it.

I know that you’ll never forgive me for any of the things I’ve mentioned in this letter, and I know that I’m probably wasting my time writing all of this because as evidenced by my last email, you probably won’t get/read it. And that’s… on you, I guess. :/

But I’m writing this because I need to. And because you need it. An apology goes a long way, at least in my experience. And so I’m hoping that multiple apologies will go ever further. Please believe me when I say that truly, honestly, I never intended to hurt you, and I wish things had been different. But trouble and tragedy and plain old bad luck just seem to follow me everywhere. So I can understand why you would want to stay away from a doomsday magnet. I get it. It hurts worse than just about anything I’ve ever experienced. On par with losing Faron, if I’m completely 100% honest. But I understand. And I am truly sorry for dragging you into my complicated life of disaster.

I should probably just stay away from anyone, if I really want to do the most good. If I just suffer alone, I can spare everyone else the trouble of going through hell with me. I’m starting to realize now that this is how it was always meant to be. Me, alone, plagued with the worst luck.

But now I’m probably just sounding melodramatic, and I don’t want any of that. I guess I’m just trying to make some kind of dumb justification for your absence.

Please believe my sincerest apologies for everything, and even if you can’t accept them, please at least believe me when I say that they are true and heartfelt. And please- do not try to accuse me of harassment again. I hardly think that addressing you to apologize for my shitty behavior is harassment. And besides, like I’ve said a million times: this is my last letter to you, unless you object. But I’m not even trying to hope for such a thing. I just want you to know that I am sorrier than you can even fathom, and I still want to make you happy, even if that means disappearing from your life forever. It’s high time I face up and do what’s expected of me. Even if I’m only expected to just go the fuck away.

And I will go the fuck away now.

But one last apology, if you’ve made it this far:

I’m sorry for wasting your time with this letter, especially if my apologies are meaningless to you. I just had to give them, for you, and for me… as one small step toward becoming the person I strive to become every day.

Accept them if you like, or don’t. But there they are, in all possible sincerity.

Goodbye, Ben… You will always be in my heart. I wish you every happiness and the best of luck in your new life.

An inappropriate reaction

There was a court hearing going on between a woman who had been accused of mental instability, and the man who had reinforced this idea by spreading a bunch of bullshit about her, turning all her friends against her, and possibly drugging her to make her have some sort of unprecedented break that magically never happened again after his sudden, undiscussed ship-jump from her life.

The woman’s lawyer was reading off a list of things that she felt important to the matter at hand. But one of those things was never discussed with the woman, and so all of a sudden, to the woman’s surprise, the lawyer told everyone about certain acts and suspicions that she had expressed concerns about several months ago, but stopped when people hushed her and told her not to talk about it.

These matters had been rethought and the woman had decided that there was a good chance that most of them could have just been extreme coincidence.

However. As the lawyer read off this list, the man did something peculiar. Right there, in the middle of a legal court hearing, he made a great, flamboyantly over-the-top show of laughing hysterically, rocking back and forth, covering his face, and even ripping off his glasses to wipe non-existent tears from his eyes.

This elaborate show seemed rather inappropriate. It seemed like the opposite way that someone would act if they were truly innocent and perfectly mentally stable. Particularly in a legal setting, where there are judges and lawyers watching you.

And so after months of telling herself that maybe she really was just connecting things that might not have been related, hearing /seeing things (even though she had no history of hallucination), remembering details wrong, etc… She suddenly reopened that book, and decided to think harder on it.

Gauging this completely inappropriate reaction to the allegations that she originally had wished to god hadn’t been brought up, she decided that maybe it was a blessing in disguise. He put on a fantastic little show in front of everyone, most likely in an attempt to sway the courts in his favor, not realizing that it didn’t look good on him at all.

The woman suddenly felt like an idiot. Had she been making excuses for him again and ignoring her gut feelings, just like when they were together and he was abusing their daughter? She had just spent hours writing and rewriting a well thought out and extremely thorough apology. Had he even really deserved it?

As she was mulling things over, she got a notification from her trusty horoscope app that simply said “You are becoming who you are.”

The woman smiled at this and finished out the hearing with grace and proper tact, unlike the man who had just given more than ample insight into who he really was underneath all of his sociopathic charm.

As the wind rolled through, tussling her hair, she smiled to herself and realized that she was finally free, therefore truly becoming who she was. He had done her a favor in leaving, giving her the time and space to truly be herself again, no longer stifled by his expectations and criticism.

Now all she had to do was make a firm case against him, pulling out her aces that she’d been keeping up her sleeves all this time, for his sake. But it was clear he no longer cared about her, and though it stung in places she didn’t know she had, it also gave her the peace of mind she needed to start fighting aggressively. No more flopping and taking things.

No. It was time for the teeth and the claws to come out. It was time to present the evidence and to summon witnesses. To send samples to a lab of her own accord and prove that everything she said was true. To finally free herself from the scrutiny and unfair judgements of her otherwise good-natured character.

She would give back everything she had received by the power of three, and stand back up, stronger than before, ready to face her newly revived life, free of the toxicity that he had been in it.

Guilt and anger.

So much of the time that I could’ve spent with Faron before he died was spent on Ben instead. The least he could do is actually honor him by trying to work things out, because that’s not only what Faron would have wanted, but Ben also took away a lot of the finite time he could have spent with me in his tragically shortened life.

Ben always got so pissed about how hard it was to gain my trust, and why couldn’t I just accept that he’d never leave me? But once he finally gained my trust, what did he do? If I had known he was going to go back on his word and dump me anyway, I would have gladly ditched him right after Ivy’s conception and spent every single possible moment with Faron instead. But I can’t get that time back now.

Faron is gone forever. Ben isn’t. There’s still time for him, but he refuses to use it wisely, and it’s just about running out at this point.