I texted my f
I must pause here to say that I am feeling an overwhelming urge to stop writing.
I texted my friend to tell him thank you for praying for me. I had just begun to feel better about my current situation and
Let me pause again to say that writing has allowed me to see the path back a little bit. It involves no Facebook and no television and a piano and a notebook. Maybe I’ll write a song.
my current situation and I felt, for the first time in a long time, that Otherworld, the world of the Sidhe, the people of the mounds, press up against my reality. It was weird. It was really weird. So I felt the need to text him because I was happy.
Now, I’m sitting on the floor in the same position I’ve been for hours. I haven’t exited my room. If it hadn’t been for my sisters, I wouldn’t have eaten.
I believe in sin. It creeps in the phones, in the tones of the words I say, and in the images that flash across my face in the white, bright light and threatens to choke out the umbilical cord which ties me to the lifeblood of the Otherworld.
But, as I said, I see the way back, and it’s two feet next to me. Should I stretch first? No, maybe I should take a shower and get clean.
Yes. That’s what I’ll do. Should I play worship music? No, they don’t worship the Creator, they worship a Frankenstein. But does that mean that worshiping the Creator through their Frankenstein-adoration set to music heavily influenced by The Edge cannot happen? No, it can.
But it can also happen listening to Lin Manuel-Miranda’s voice on the Moana soundtrack, so I think I’ll go with Polynesian sounds instead. Vive les indigènes. I don’t much care for Augustinian The Edge music these days.