and I knew where you were because I was there when you said it

There’s nothing to fear.  I know it and this helps me remember…  and it’s all there programmed by the age of seven—your attributes from religion social economic all the way to sex—the brain is like an incorporated environment.  It restructures rewires itself based on sensations.  So ya of course you are who you are born a certain way.  But if you’re told over and over again if you’re bullied if you’re put in an environment without a gradient of love the comfort of friends—why, it must take a strength that borders on delusional to still believe in yourself—yet people do.  They do every day…

but I don’t believe in cause and effect.  for that you need a closed system.  and we are not in a closed system.  and I struggled and I saw and like those little quotes you see on Facebook (I must of liked something of his when they were still married before my father died and I see them now just like I saw that news clip about George’s girlfriend luckily the fucking crazy bitch was smart enough to let him stash the drugs with some lesbian neighbors next door before the cops came of course he was spooked after that I mean what if she ratted in jail the same jail Charlie Birger spent some time in a good ninety years ago and maybe she etched her name in the wall there too I hear she was a poet and most writers are narcissistic assholes believe me I know I had one for an ex-stepdad.) they’re reminders little motivational get up and go phrases of inspiration about being a writer the writer’s life which in way like it or not are what everybody gets because even our motivational quotes come from writers and they have a tendency to put themselves in the story so of course that’s what I happened to see scrolling through Facebook after you went missing a quote by Hemingway as I’m sure other writers said it:  Writing, at its best, is a lonely life.  And it clicked then what you said.  Not the writing part you never wrote a lick in your life but the loneliness—I saw it in your eyes when you said it helps me remember. Like that old grandfather clock my mother had in the living room. It chimed the hours and I remember how I waited counting the chimes and why why fear? We propose all these little tests. And not just our education not that form of mind control which of course the mind needs. I mean all the other tests we propose to each other. They never end. And when we don’t have each other we test Time. We chase it and time ourselves in our tasks bidding ourselves to hurry. Sometimes the best is to do Nothing. So many frustrations and seeds of anger would recede if we just paced ourselves. But like those chimes I used to count I always feared being alone like my mother feared death. She saw her grandfather die in the kitchen when she was four years old. I think it messed her up. Now I realize I’m not really afraid of being by myself—other people my mother told me to be afraid of that—no, it was sharing. I had to admit I needed someone to share it with.  I had to admit that and get used to the silence… 

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