Returning to the waters of trauma and regret

[BigJimsWornOutTires]

I didn't hug him when I last saw him. The DEI doctor said he had MRSA. She warned us it was highly contagious. I figured I would see him again. Ugh, we all do. It's human nature... hope.

Not looking forward, that's for sure. I should be, though. Nah. There are good reasons why I left that place so many times. Ugh, the ghosts live there. And watching the paramedics load my naked father, but now in a gown, onto the makeshift elevator... this was familiar. Something's about to happen. And that, it did. The elevator got stuck. Yet, this part was excluded from my vision in 2011. The two girls in the silk gowns were present. Dad saw one sitting at the edge of his deathbed. War in Israel was present. Everything was in harmony except what happened after the elevator went down; I awoke. I left my apartment to a crowd of people. A neighbor said our friend had hung herself during the night. This didn't match my vision, I felt. Ugh, dreams, wandering souls, recent departures claiming their "you know what," and multiple timelines crossing one another like a freeway intersection in Houston during traffic hour... this is the real chaotic theory. In my opinion.

 

[BigJimsWornOutTires]

People see what they want to see. Some see what they believe they should see. But no one knows anything but themselves.

After reexamining the lyrics to the song I attached to this TLDR, ugh... not good, that's for sure. It makes it sound like I'm about to go wacky-Jacky. Not true. I'm cool. Everything's cool. "You," on the other hand, I'm mostly concerned about. And "you" know what I'm talking about.

The tune has meaning, not the lyrics. Similar to a virgin finally sealing the deal. But this isn't mundane sex—love. Love making. As this is happening, a song is playing in the background:



Years, perhaps decades later, whenever this person strolls down memory lane of the first time having sex, this song plays in their head.

 

[greycel]

I’m sorry bro