Achoo--!

I sneeze

and say Bless You

reflexively, out

to my alley

as one should

Because it's

these little pins

that don't add up

and the big whole

that shan't fall apart

It's our -ification

as Well--

we're expressing

in each moment

of this Blessing.

11.04.2023

God, The Universe, and You Part 3: Blessings @TheWolfeDen

I spoke without thinking

As I am prone to do

She listened without judging

Her nature was as true

Whether the day of our first date

Or on the day that we wed

She kept me well grounded

With soft words softly said

“Stay true to yourself,

But stay truer to me”

“Know what you want,

Know what you can be”

“Passion is for lovers

But love has its own passion”

“Give all from your store

Deny me no ration”

I hear these words

As I hear the gravesman cease

I must now live without her

I must give her, her peace

These were the last words I ever spoke, to others, about my wife. I departed the ceremony resigned never again to speak, never again to marry, never again to love.

I almost kept my promise. I'm glad that I did not.

Notebook, Page #01:

Five years to the day I recited that elegy; I found what I was looking for, a chink in the armor of science, a possibility that man has dreamed of since the dawn of time. In a nutshell, I found time. I found all the time in the world. I found a way to travel back in time, with severe spatial and energy constraints, to revisit the exact when and where I wanted. I already owned the house of the where; all I had to do was decide the moment of the when. And of course, pay for the trip. And of course, I did.

First is the hypothesis. Time travel is easy, almost too easy. It’s a wonder no one ever thought of this before. The secret is the acceleration of mass, not the velocity of the mass. If you can change the speed in which mass travels forward in time, with a negative acceleration, for long enough, you can travel back in time. At least, that is my theory.

Second are the details. To accomplish this prolonged negative acceleration, one must reconcile with Newton’s Third Law of Motion. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. To travel backward in time five years, I had to instantly age forward in time (chronologically) five years. Since I was 52 at the moment I discovered this idea, I had precious time to waste.

Third are the limitations. I think I have isolated all the (known) limitations of my invention. The maximum time I could travel (backward) was five years, thus my hasty departure. I did not know how many times I could accomplish this journey for I did not know how long I would live. My device only worked in one direction. To travel (forward) in time was still beyond my creative capacity (other than just waiting the five years) to overcome. So, if a single trip should prove useless or a single calculation be in error, I would find myself 62 (52 plus my 5 year price to travel plus the 5 year wait) before I could return to my point of origin and try again. The device does not make the trip, only I do.

If you are reading this, scrutinize my workspace for an older version of myself. If I suddenly appear, then I will try the device again for I have failed at my previous attempt to correct what all believe to be uncorrectable. I will die of old age trying to save my wife or die of old age living with my wife. My die is cast. Hers still tumbles.

Notebook, Page #02:

I returned precisely the instant I departed. I am now gray of hair, somewhat arthritic, and with a substantial police record, albeit in an assumed name and identity. Where did it go wrong? I answer only for posterity. My destination became a mere twenty seconds before the murderous driver was to turn the corner of our street and careen toward my wife. I saw the first and ran toward her to prevent the second. I screamed and she heard enough to divert her gait to avoid disaster. She, however, turned around to run away, only to be struck by another vehicle heading in the opposite direction. I found myself in a position where someone may recognize me and become confused, possibly accusative. Because of my fear, I ran past my fallen wife. In such a visible display of carnage, witnesses did indeed file police reports stating I was an accomplice of the inebriated driver.

As such, I had to surface frequently, in places other than I normally visit, to prove the 57 to 62 year old version of me was not the 52 year old version of me. As the former, I found myself constantly on the run and in frequent periods of limited incarceration. As the latter, I was free to build my time machine and use it to view my wife’s ruinous end. I return to my work, in my house, somewhat older, somewhat wiser, with scant time for preparations for what may be my last attempt to save my wife. To anyone reading my notes, these pages do not reflect the insane ramblings of an old man. They are the trials and tribulations that true love forces me to endure. I must succeed.

Notebook, Page #03:

What I write, I write with a shaky hand and poor vision. I am now 72, but feel 102. This attempt nearly killed me before I had the opportunity to persevere. My arrival predated the changed disaster of my first arrival by ten seconds. Just enough time to have a heart attack from the shock of instantly aging the 5 years it took to travel. A visible, doddery senior citizen undergoing cardiac arrest was enough to force my wife to concentrate exclusively on my well-being. In doing so, she entered the street at the exact moment preceding the first reason I took to time traveling. I witnessed her avoid the northbound drunken driver and the southbound additional equally lethal driver.

This time, what killed my wife was a broken heel and the subsequent fall to the pavement. Ironically, she died moments after recognizing me from her head wound. This time, I saw her smile. I did not ask why. I could not ask why. I awoke the next day in a geriatric hospital. Once again, to avoid confusion, I had to lie about my identity and not interfere with either of my two previous versions of myself. In retrospect, I have failed. I will make one more trip, back to that moment, with a written explanation. If I can give it to her before either of us dies, then I will have that opportunity to smile back at her. If I can’t, then I shall die trying. The trip will most likely kill me.

Notebook, Page #04:

I rarely knew what he wanted when he was living. However, his will stipulated that I had to read this notebook of theories (his words; I called them science fiction stories) of time travel. The fact that I am finishing the last entry speaks volumes of how much I loved this fool during our 31 years together. He was a good husband and a better father. He revered his employment at his engineering firm as sacred. I accepted that when I married him. What I did not accept was the scatterbrain fiction he spent hours, days, and years upon in this garage he referred to as “his lab”. I see no inventions. I see no visible evidence of success. I only see the remnants of a man that should have retired, when he promised, at 52, and not forever tinkering until he passed on. I speak harshly when I should use soft words in a soft voice. I kept him well grounded and demanded all his passion. I know I never judged him. I loved him for what he was, a husband who remained true to me, as I was to him.

I am lost. One moment, I was a kid, the next, I've become a teenager who is supposed to contribute to the global economy and do something other than study and play games. Most of the kids around me are go getters. They do everything to get to the top and I admire all of them for that. Where I live, anything but the best is not acceptable. Me, I've fallen far behind. Far, far behind. I gave up on myself a long time ago. Sometimes I in my head I think 'Oh, today is the day where I am going to turn my life around!'. Nope. Not even remotely happening. I should probably be working instead of writing this. Can you guess what stage of life I am at now? Maybe that's where I went wrong. You know, the giving up on myself. I also don't trust myself very much. The few things I can trust myself to do: fail, waste my time, and generally be a very big disappointment to my parents. I have an older sibling. Now, this sibling is perfect. They've always been perfect: top of their class, everyone likes them, etc. I am less than a speck of dust compared to my sibling. It hurts to think that, but it's the truth. This is the third time I've tried to write something like this in the past few months. I am sorely lacking in the brain department. I'm sure a lot of people have felt like this at some point in their life. Everyone is always like, you're not alone, We've been there and done that! Even though, why do I still feel very alone? I'm delusional. I should go.

Until the next freakout and minor panic attack,

Have a Good Day! :)

According to our hair stylist, my grandma and I resemble each other.

I got my haircut yesterday. All the split ends are chopped off. We both have short hair now.

My grandma lives with us now because of my grandpa’s anger.

My parents decided she couldn’t live in that house anymore. I think I was always worried about her.

When I lived with them in my final semester of college I was caught in more than a few one-sided arguments. I did my best to diffuse them every night over dinner.

I had never told anyone that I used to think my boyfriend and I were just like my grandparents. They both loved him.

I was usually only his verbal punching bag in private. No one at that dinner table - the four of us - would have understand the problem.

Two men who make messes and two women who walk behind them to clean up. Denial is a full-time job.

Two women meet in secret, covered in scrapes and bruises, to patch each other up. And we apologize to our friends for the behavior of the men we’re with.

We had to tell lies about them.

"He's not that bad - I'm actually the problem" or "I was the one who started it"

It's easy to tell lies when you don't have to make them up yourself. I was fed these words. I was just his parrot.

My grandma said she was scared of him. My mom had to explain to both of us that this isn’t normal. How she’s never been afraid of my dad.

I know what it feels like to be scared, to stay up all night in fear, to be yelled at for not coming to bed.

I learned how to make myself cry until he apologized because that was the one time he held me.

60 years is so much longer than 5. It’s hard to swim to the surface when you’re drowning in water that’s deeper.

The sunk cost fallacy. I know it too well. I’ve done this long enough not to waste it. I can fix his mistakes. I can look past them. I am a bitch and it is my fault. I’m worthless, I’m useless, and he’s perfect because he once was. I can change it, I can fix him - it became my mantra.

I became tiny, so he could fill up the space, so he could be loud. Until my voice completely disappeared and I could no longer speak his lies at all.

The snipping sound of the hair-cutting shears is crisp like the air in October. I watch the damaged hair fall like dead leaves. I smile at myself in the mirror.

I am just like my grandma and we both have new haircuts.

I. Introduction

In the realm of achievement and success,

There lies a truth that we must confess,

A principle that stands the test of time,

A mantra that echoes in every rhyme.

II. The Seed of Ambition

Deep within the heart of every dreamer,

Lies a seed of ambition, a burning desire,

To reach for the stars, to soar higher and higher,

To conquer the challenges, to never tire.

III. The Foundation of Success

Hard work, the cornerstone of triumph,

Lays the foundation for success to bloom,

With dedication and perseverance in tow,

One can overcome any obstacle that looms.

IV. The Journey Begins

The path to greatness is not for the faint-hearted,

It requires grit and determination uncharted,

With sleeves rolled up and hands ready to toil,

The journey begins, fueled by burning oil.

V. Sacrifice and Discipline

To achieve greatness, sacrifices must be made,

Late nights and early mornings become the trade,

Discipline becomes a steadfast companion,

As one strives towards their ultimate dominion.

VI. The Power of Persistence

When setbacks arise and failure knocks on the door,

It is persistence that keeps dreams from being sore,

For every stumble is but a lesson learned,

A stepping stone towards success earned.

VII. Embracing Challenges

Challenges are not roadblocks but opportunities in disguise,

They test our mettle and unveil our true size,

With each hurdle conquered, we grow stronger still,

And inch closer to fulfilling our will.

VIII. Learning from Failure

Failure is not an end but a chance to restart,

To learn from mistakes and mend a broken heart,

For within failure lies wisdom untold,

A treasure trove waiting to unfold.

IX. The Fruits of Labor

As the years pass by and hard work persists,

The fruits of labor emerge from the mist,

Success blossoms like a flower in full bloom,

Rewarding those who refused to assume.

X. Inspiring Others

Through hard work, we inspire those around,

To chase their dreams and stand on solid ground,

For when they witness our relentless drive,

They too find the strength to thrive.

XI. Conclusion

So, let us embrace the mantra that holds true,

That hard work pays, no matter what we pursue,

With dedication and perseverance as our guide,

We shall conquer mountains and reach the sky.

"Shit girl, come give your uncle Todd a big hug!”

Todd is not my uncle. I do not want to hug him nor any of my mother's “friends”. My mom likes to party so she brings these scumbag guys around and expects me to be extra friendly with them. Hugs and kisses. Laugh at jokes. Bring beers. Sit on laps.

No.

These guys say inappropriate things to me like, ’If she's old enough to bleed, she's old enough to need...‘ or ’If the field has grass on it, let's play!’ and my mom does NOTHING. She just does her little fake-ass laugh and tells me to lighten up.

I hate every single one of these disgusting bastards. I also hate my mother for bringing them into my 12-year-old life. I feel powerless over my life and who is in it right now.

There is one adult who is different. He is named Dale. Has has come to my rescue several times when others have tried to grab at me or speak to me in their crude ways. Dale is not gross like the others.

There are times he has picked me up from school because it was raining or my mother forgot. He drives an old Ford pick up truck. I call it a "potato truck" because it makes the sound 'potato-potato-potato' when it idles. Dale says he'll teach me to drive it someday. Dale is very nice to me.

I hate Dale the most.

All his kindness helped me figure out that he was, in fact, my biggest threat. Yes, I was young, but not foolish enough to believe his actions were altruistic. I think that eventually, once more trust had been established, he would be the one to attack me.

He wanted it that way— for me to trust him first. He was careful, persistent, and patient. Like a coiled snake watching a clueless mouse. It was just a matter of time.

Luckily, he never got the chance to strike. He got arrested later that year and went to jail for a long time. I never found out the nature of his crime, but I could guess.

Thank you, God, for looking out for me. Certainly none of the shitty adults in my life were.

I may touch,

I may feel.

I may look,

I may see.

…until then,

I just breathe.

i have never been taken on a date.

i have been in four relationships. and i have never been taken on a date because my partner wanted to take me on one. it's always been because i asked and they felt like they had too.

like i wish they wanted to. any everyone says it's stupid, that your partner can't read your mind, but if i've asked for them before, like maybe i would like more than one.

i remember feelings so stupid asking for him to take me on a date because like.

i always want to be friends with my partners before we date, but then there is this hard transition into intentionally romantic gestures that go beyond a kiss or hand holding or something like that.

i asked him to take me on dates in feburary and we have been dating since october. because we always ended up going back to him place. even when i asked for walks, he would just be like, we can talk at my place, but then he wanted to watch things or do physical stuff and i wish he wanted to spend time with me like in a nice way.

the first r/s was a summer fling. there was nothing wrong with it. we only hung out. they got me lavender. no official official dates makes sense.

the second was half-online. the first and only time we met up when we were dating did we go on a walk.

the third was i guess. he took me to the christmas market because we had talked about it before, as friends, and how it was wonderful and i had never been. but that was it. every other time we just walked or hung out or was chilling.

the fourth. i guess i shouldn't count it. cause we didn't do it right. it was a situationship. we couldn't get together for various reasons and it wasn't right. but i had to ask to even just go on walks instead of staying inside. i took us to get boba or go to the art museum or to get korean food. even though i had asked for it.

no one has ever just. wanted to take me and maybe this sounds stupid but no one has ever taken me on a date because they have wanted to take me on a date. no one has ever taken me cause they want to, it's because i ask or it's planed for a while. NO ONE HAS EVER PLANNED ONE FOR ME AND TAKEN ME CAUSE THEY WANT TO AND I'M AFRAID IF SOMEONE DOES I WILL BREAK DOWN AND CRY AND ACTUALLY DEDICATE MYSELF TO THEM ON THE SPOT.

this is such a rant.

i'm just fucked up. because i have to love more so i will never hurt my partners but then i am never happy because i put them on this pedestal and they can look down on me and then they don't care about me

idk it's not like i want someone to write songs about me or bring me flowers or take me on dates but i want someone to care about me enough that those actions cross their mind and they want to do it for me.

cause i always drag my partners places and i bring them flowers and THEY NEVER.

i display my love through stories and flowers and thinking of them and i wish they did the same because it would be like speaking to me through my love language

i don't necessarily want the physical things, i want them to think of me and care about me and want to do something nice for me and those sentiments traditionally manifest in those physical expressions.

I've only known you for a week.

But I loved you already.

You were to be the baby of all my babies.

I was meant to carry you for the next 8 months and get to know you better. I was meant to hold you in sweet motherhood's embrace: to stare in wonder at your sweet face on the day of your birth. You were going to have so many friends. Your brother and sisters were going to love you beyond measure. You were to be our little one. I couldn't wait to carry you alongside your growing cousin, and I was so thrilled to surprise your auntie by telling her I was carrying her babies' Birthday buddy.

I felt so confident of the life you would live.

I spent hours searching for your name, but none seemed to be just right. Maybe a part of me knew then that I would never hold you. You see, sweet baby, I have lost you already. And I miss you so much. I miss the dreams I dared to dream for you. I miss all you would have been... All you could have been.

This morning, I got up, and I knew you were gone. I called the doctor and scheduled an appointment, hoping I'd been mistaken somehow. This morning your sister, who we'd not told about you, prayed for you. She prayed for her little baby brother. She thanked God for you. I am so sorry you won't get to meet her here. I wish there were some way to change it all... To give you that life I'd hoped, but alas, sweet baby, I cannot decide these things.

I know that Jesus is holding you now, and you're happy. I am so glad you are with him there.

But oh, my sweet baby with wings, I miss you already.

I thought it was a joke but now I realize that I need my hope.

My mind playing tricks on me but I recognize that it was all me.

God tells me otherwise so now I see. My faith rises in every opportunity

that attempts to be My demise...but the sun is coming out.

Regardless of the illnesses that make me want to shout.

However, there is a strength inside of me that screams out for my dreams.

Although my mother and brother are in the hospital they WILL survive and not be crippled. They are standing strong fighting to regain the health that God promises

us to never cease and remain. My hope remains intact, my faith remains on track.

While I continue to stand confidently, unwavering in my view, believe me, I have great news when the battle is thru. During the storm, I am determined to be the boss.

Gazing my eyes on the Cross.