I miss your hand in my hand
I want your hand on my shoulder
I need your hand on my...anything

The things I miss the most
From the life we never lived

I supercharge every thought, every idea.
I pursue each concept and emotion to their ultimate possible conclusion(s).
I excite every particle to impossible speeds, spinning and colliding, combining and fusing.
Old painful emotions combine with new jarring thoughts and,
WHAM!
A new element is created.  
It is violent and eviscerating evolution at breakneck speeds.
And it never ceases.
Or slows.
It's not all bad though,
As I said, new elements are always being created,
New concepts,
Differing perspectives,
Brand-spanking-new thoughts created from the raging fires of the old.
I am far too logical to discard a thought, however painful.
It must be run through the particle accelerator,
Again and again,
Until it collides with so many other ideas
That it is completely obliterated,
By the formation of a new and superior understanding.

Won't the future be nice?
So many benefits of modern technology.
You don't have to go grocery shopping,
Heck, your fridge can order for you now!
Cameras inside the washer and dryer, 'cause yeah.
You can even order casual companionship with an app.
Won't be long before we'll be able to match genomes online,
Probably interconnected with your social media and dating sites of choice,
No need to talk, or even meet, your phone just beeps and you know:
You've found the perfect mate!
Modern convenience folks, step right u-
Oh wait, no, stay home, get married right from your couch!
What's wrong you have the perfect mate, the perfect job, perfect home(s), 1.312 kids, 2.617 pets-
Love???
There's probably an app for that...

I grew up moving from place to place,
Usually about once a year.
It is very difficult for a child to form friendships,
When they are never in the same school two years in a row.
Military brats go through this, I'm told.

My childhood was a series of disasters and moves.

Like the apartment building in Alexandria that caught on fire every other weekend.
Where my step-dad lost control of the car and tried to stop by sticking his foot out of the door.
My sister almost died from an allergic reaction to soap.
I fell off the jungle-gym and nearly bit off my lower lip.

We moved.

The townhouse in burke where my step-dad went through the sliding glass door, face-first.
Where he got Tiger, the 75 lb. German Sheppard,
Who was crazy and scared the **** out of us constantly.
Let's see what else?
I knocked my sister out of a second-story window,
Our babysitter was a ******,

We moved.

The townhouse in Fairfax where I first saw my step-dad hit my mother,
Where we lived when they divorced.
This is where we lived when the 300 lb. redneck enjoyed trying to **** me on a daily basis.
Our college student tenant had to stand up for me.

We moved.

Basically to make a long story short, not a lot of ****** stability in my childhood.

Disaster.

Move on.

Every single adult relationship continued this pattern.

Whether this is because I unconsciously seek out these situations, I don't know.

Probably.

I sometimes think that people need their disasters, so they have a reason to give up.

I am sick of disasters.
I am tired of moving on.
I am sick and tired of giving up.

And of being given up on.

It is a painful, strengthening, heart-breaking, uplifting, terrifying, enlightening, emptying, and fulfilling journey through horror and wonder.

Leading one inevitably towards confrontation with oneself.  

It is the path to balance.

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Megaphone Clicks

I SAID:  I MISS YOU!