The Girl Who Went Out with a Bang

How do you tell everyone you’re really okay, you’re just speaking and living your truth?

I started writing again in 2018, and life has just been a non-stop roller coaster ride since. Or maybe it just has in my head as I make up stories that intertwine with my reality so complexly and easily I can no longer separate fact from fiction, because it all blends in together and simply becomes my reality, built on anciet stories and fabled glories. We all have our parts to play, and the secret? Everyone you meet is just a mirror. Your dad yelling at you for some trivial reason? He’s not yelling at you, he’s yelling at himself. He sees you as himself at your age, and all the baggage and unresolved trauma that gets passed down from generation to generation in ancestral curses.

My mom tried so hard to break our generational curse, much like the Owens sisters in Practical Magic. Me? I swore off love and have had nothing but heartbreak, but before that I went from a freewheeling whore to a semi-content wife whose hair was being pulled by the stars, gently, unrelentingly. Anyway, see how easily that happens? I think this is how we create the world of our dreams. If I pick an archetype, and I wake up tomorrow and ask myself, what would my alterego do right now? So you’re literally taking the first steps of your new life with every word you speak. Ever see the movie Interstellar? After watching this I realized time is not real…the only time is real is by the beating of my own heart. When my heart speeds up, time speeds up. When my heart is at rest, content, relaxed, time slows down. Coincidence that there are 60 beats in a minute for a “normal” heart rate? Maybe because crystal quartz vibrates at a beat of 60 beats per minute. Tick tock tick tock tick tock like sands through the hour glass, so are the days of our lives. Each second is a drop of energy, because how you spend your time is how you spend your energy. Energy=time

Effort=how much “horsepower” is put into the job?T

TIME + EFFORT = ENERGY

MONEY IS A SYMBOL FOR ENERGY. So why not cut out the middle man and just go back to bartering? There’s more than enough resources to go around. Why are we so determined to live the “American Dream” that has slipped completely out of my control as a 38 year old, college-educated nurse who is living in my father’s basement, trying to figure out how to be “normal” Jen so the world will quit trying to medicate her, throw her in the looney bin because I refuse to be put into whatever box they feel I should be in, each labeled with clear expectations and societal exclusion if not taken seriously. And nothing can be worse than living on the fringes of society, with the dirty, lazy hippies! (My dream life, being a dirty, lazy hippie, roller skating through life like that commercial that got so big during the pandemic on Tik Tok, and even Stevie covered it. More things to link to.

I don’t remember where I was going with this, but it’s now 7:09 PM and my head feels like it’s going to explode and my shoulders are tense, which is a sign I’m thinking way too hard, and I need to chillax. My eyes are blurry, making it hard to flocus. I only wear one contact, in the left eye, my astigmatism eye, my right eye turned itself off just like my left ear turned itself off. Like I said, shallow end of the gene pool. Pretty sure my dad still has a picture of me playing checkers with him, me wearing a parch to “strengthen” my lazy eye and wearing awkward hearing aids, trying to get used to all the noise and feeling like bombs are detonating all around me, the sound of dishes clattering — that sounded a little too intense…there’s storm clouids brewing in the kitchen. My brother and I both see the storm coming and mentally, telepathically almost ask each other if we’re going to stay and fight or just retreat. Ryan would go hide. I would turn off my hearing aid and zone out with my book if we werent in the mood, or if we were, we would pick a fight with each other so then Mom and Dad had someone else to be angry with, instead of each other. Siblings are weird like that. Cory, I’m sorry for saying all that awful shit to you yesterday. I think I was projecting all my bullshit onto you, and you took the brunt of my flamethrower. Hopefully your eyebrows will grow back from being singed — Dad said you were a little hot (along with your beard since your Christmas incident haha). Anyway, I need to accept that I am no longer your “person” and you are now Kayla’s “person” and even though it drives me crazy she puts your socks on for you, you are in love with the first woman you’ve ever introduced to me (and man, you brought a lot home from the bar when we were out but you always answered my calls, whether you were in a fight with someone or (**awkward silence**) “in” someone (poor girl — you deserve better! Any man who will interrupt worshiping your body FOR HIS FUCKING SISTER does not see you as WIFE material. WIFE MATERIAL=GODDESS When he treats you like a Goddess, that is how you know he thinks you are wife material. So start acting like a Goddess and know your own worth! There’s a whole catalog out there to pick from — I kinda like Diana and Artemis. So then you embody the traits they had, and encountering similar obstacles, just in the overlay of your life. Recognize the scenario playing out in front of you, decide where you want the plot to go, and believe. Believe what? Believe that whatever you say after “I AM” is true. There’s a reason those are the two most powerful words of the English language, and anything said after “I am” was spoken by you, and so was spoken into being. Power of the spoken word…ever realize YOU are God? Try it. Ignore time. Just focus on embodying the traits of whichever hero/heroine calls to your soul at the moment (pick a Hollywood movie…legends are lessons ;) and you’ll start noticing little “willowisps” — signs from the Universe that you’re on the right path. I’m more than happy to share my willowisps, but I have a feeling they’re unique to everyone. Just how your brain computer processes input from the collective conscious. (What IS collective conscious? in my opinion, it’s the energy felt at the rock concert when the artists have woven their magic and the audience is in that beautiful fugue state of mind, hearts so full of love and the world’s beauty as seen through the eyes and ears of the creators who followed their soul enough to find the beauty of the Universe, and as a gift from the Universe, a talent to share the story with the world, so they too can see a “glimpse” of the true Garden of Eden.(Oh yeah, the Bible, Hebrew, the Tree of Life (Esotieric/Hermeticism/Mysticism), how it all corresponds so beautifully with astrology, numerology, tarot, because everything is energy and numbers so beautifully capture the essence of the energy, gematria and the Matrix so easily explained. Binary code and whatever the most popular languge (C++)? i read somewhere is what the online world is mostly written in, and so would make sense that a similar code is how the Universe works. Because as above, so below. Hermetic Principles. Oh, and if you’re really going to get into esoteric studies, don’t start with the watered down fluff of “Learn Tarot” and “Magic Spells”. Pssh that’s for baby witches. If you really want to learn how to create magic, look for books on “High Magick”, which is evolving your soul to ascend using the tree of life as a map. You can take the Left Hand Path (Severity) or the Right Hand Path (Mercy), or you can join me. I’m pretty sure there’s a Middle Path straight across the Abyss of Daath by using the Sign of Venus. Love. Because with love, all things are possible. So then, if done in love, wouldn’t it be possible for all souls to ascend at once? I mean, who cares if they say no human has ever ascended? So yeah, I told the Universe summer of 2018 when I was given a choice — sacrifice my family and Nate for my spirituality, or vice versa. I begged God for something different, feeling like Abe on the mountain with his firstborn son, foolishly hoping somehow it would all work out in the end so I wouldn’t have to choose at all, I could have my cake and eat it too. I knew the stars tugging at my hair were becoming too intense, and my sealskin was drying up. It was time to return to the Sea, but with the one condition that the Universe provide Nate and my sons with a mother and wife they deserve. I know what I have to do. I have to sign over the parenting rights to Nate, explain to Dillon that mentally, I’m experiencing life as a teenager, and I’ve always felt like a big sister and not really a mom, and the thought of trying to be a mom to these sweet boys after all the trauma I’ve put them through by trying to do both, when Amanda has been there almost from the day I left, to literally step into my shoes and carry what I had sacrificed for my journey. Because Amanda is me, on a different timeline. I love her so much because everything that’s happened to both of us, we’re experiencing through each other, mirroring different life lessons but wearing different roles. In my lifetime on this timeline, I am the ex-wife of your nightmares, crazy (literally, she has a certified diagnosis) and somehow always manages to disrupt your life with her drama, and mess. Yet she sucks it up as much as she can because she truly loves those three like her own, like I do. Which is why I will always be thankful and appreciative of Amanda. It will be interesting to hear her side of the story…I think I glimpsed a piece of it…I was playing that basketball player, Brittany something who just got home to the US after being arrested for weed in Russai, that I felt like I kmew how she felt, everyone finallly realizing what hell my life has been so far, and how ready I am to sleep, truly sleep, because once these words are out of my brain, I can finally relax and let the tick-tock tick-tock of the clock help me regulate my heart beat as I try to relax after thinking so hard, barreling ahead at full speed, but holding back because I know some of what I’m writing is really freaking people out. I’m just writing, and I honestly still have not looked at the title of what this blog is supposed to be about, but it is 7:41 PM 1/5/23 Dad is at a walleye meeting, and after hearing his goals, I am so proud of him and I will remind him every day that he GETS to wake up living the next day of his new life, becoming the man others know and like, who offer him opportunities and perks because there’s nothing people like more than a scrappy underdog from the wrong side of the tracks who has his values, his beliefs, and is going after whatever passion stirs his soul, because that is what men are meant to do, the Divine Masculine. They are the ideas, the penetrators, giving the idea to the Divine Feminine to receive passively, to incubate, nurture, transmute an ugly blob and a stupidly blind egg that just happened to somehow find each other (maybe it’s fate ;) anyway, the Divine Feminine nurtures the idea, creating something beautiful from that idea.

Men are tired of doing all this bullshit. No matter what they do, it’s never enough. Everyone is like fucking baby birds, **oops, same rant as the ‘greedy CEOs are NOT monsters’, and this will be the ‘MEN are MONSTERS…why fight it?” Oh yeah, so ladies, men are MEANT to be monsters. They can either be the lovable, fircely protective blue guy from Monsters, Inc, taking care of his Boo, or you’ll be met with the Emasculated Man, his balls cut off, his spine gone, no longer able to look at himself in the mirror because of how pathetic he feels. Where is his dignity? Oh yeah, the Shrew ate it. So, just because you were born with a penis does not mean you are the divine masculine, as much as some men will try to argue. I AM DIVINE MASCULINE and I AM DIVINE FEMININE.

Or at least I try to be, but fuck it’s a lot of work. So instead, I admit I’m human, living life (which is a joke) on instead just focusing on one archetype every morning. Who do I want to be when I wake up? I kind of like this Stevie Selevens thing. My little Underground world, where I can just freely write out the characters living their lives, not yet realizing they’re not the only ones feeling the same way, and if we only look up from our phones and start talking to each other again, we’ll realize we’re soon becoming closer than we’ll ever imagine. So many ideas….so little time

MEDIUM POST TONIGHT #2:

It’s ALL a joke

I feel like before I really freak people out, I should interject here that if you have to ask if something is a joke, it is. Besides, God is a comedian playing to an audience too afraid to laugh. God=comedian audience=Jesus life=joke. Jesus should really lighten up, Jeez.

Anyway, Will, thanks for the tip. He died two years ago at 32 from lung cancer. Never smoked. I didn’t realize it he had died for over a year. Just thought he got busy with life, or was upset with me, or both. But Jesus I felt like a shitty friend. Do I even have the right to call you my friend if I don’t notice you’re dead? Sorry, Will. To make it up to you, I’ll shamelessly plug your book here. Will lived in Great Falls, and was the guy who the Universe sent to me in two different meatsuits, (probably more but I just haven’t figured out who yet) but usually with dark hair and blue eyes, because I have a penchant for outcasts and bad boys from the wrong side of the tracks and so right for all the wrong reasons…

Anyway, whoo. So Will helped me through my spiritual awakening summer of 2018, when I was still married, living a dream life as a mom of 2 beautiful boys married to a dreamboat husband who cooks, cleans, and lovingly calls me this ‘3rd child’ (because to be fair, I did act like it most of the time…) on a dream property of 80 acres in Montana, with horses and cows. The first two Dillon named Rib-Eye and T-Bone and quickly began to act like pets, only to be left with a mouth of horror as he realized why homegrown beef is so good. Welcome to farm life, and reality, son! Anyway, yes, I had the dream life, yet I was ready to commit suicide. I’m a nurse. I know how to do it easily, not making a mess, no pain, just slip away. I don’t think I ever did, but sometimes I wonder if maybe during one of these timelines I’ve lived, I did do it, and the first time was when Kallie was hit by a car, the second time when I ran over Rip with the car, and Nate did it when he gave Teddy away, yet like Craig said, we can try to end this charade of life but all that’s gonna happen is we’ll plop into the meatsuit of the next closest timeline. Ain’t over until the fat lady sings!

Oh yeah, Will’s book. God, I need to link so many journal entries to all of the aforementioned. Life is such a joke, lol. I like writing. Maybe there’s a reason I always said I wanted to write. Feels kinda good. Maybe I’ll just let medium be my blog, and not care less about people reading what i write, because to me it’s just my personal diary. I have no shame in my game, so I’ll show you ALL my skeletons. Sorry Mom & Dad! At least I had a little fun up until now, right? This is going to be so awkward…but this is how I slip into the fugue state!! Sober…I just have to remember life is a joke and follow the willowisps…I’m getting off track. Sooo much to elaborate and write about, as I make up stories as I go along from dreams and daydreams, plucked out of the sky of the collective unconscious, as we all live our archetype’s and quests, living out our journey through life, all just walking each other…HOME.

Shit…okay WILL’S BOOK…amazon link…https://a.co/d/hY6EQYu

AND WILL, I’M STILL DEMANDING ANSWERS FOR THE END OF THE BOOK!!! j/k love ya! :D

MEDIUM POST TONIGHT #3

#bringbackhekate 11/4/2022

My computer did this weird reboot thing, and it gave the wrong date — a date I’m assuming from when I last wrote an article, and I’m just going to follow the diary entries…

Copied and pasted from Microsoft Word, still open from the last time I used it and unchanged since 11/4/2022, titled “HEKATE”, because I love her and everything she stands for, and was channeling her at the time. Wouldn’t it be amazing if we could all channel this amazing, feminine energy that knows how to bare her fangs to protect her own yet prefers to let her alpha’s love her and trusts him to protect her? Yeah, just look up this badass archetype— Hekate. #bringbackhekate. Okay, this is what I wrote:

Subliminal. Everywhere and nowhere.. The voice on the wind, the whisper in the trees. She is the Guardian of the Unprotected, the Defender of the Weak, the Shield of the Defenseless. She is everywhere, and nowhere. She is more powerful than ancient gods and goddesses, yet she is just. She is the watcher, the one who leads the way in the darkness, into the unknown. Her hounds beside her, she watches past, present, future, missing nothing. She is feared, because her wrath is just and sure, vengeful and bloody. She is the scream hidden in the howling wind, leaking into the ears of those with guilty consciences for dirty deeds done against the innocent as they cower beneath blankets that will never provide enough warmth to end the chill in their souls. She is a hag, deep in the cave of my soul, stirring a cauldron filled with fragrant soup that smells like cherished childhood memories of moments long past, the hag that hold me as I collapse into her in breathless sobs, terrified of the unknown and filled with doubt and self-loathing.

See Next Post explaining who this hag is to me…maybe the Wicked Witch isn’t so evil after all…maybe we’ve been told a lie because they don’t want us to know all the wisdom and love she has to offer. Because God only knows what would happen if the Divine Feminine was allowed to meet with her Divine Children once again…so maybe the Wicked Witch isn’t so bad after all. Might be time to let go assumptions and gossip. Personal actions speak so much louder than other peoples’ ‘words after all. Anyway, onward and upward!

MEDIUM POST 4

ReBOOT!!

THE GIRL WHO COULDN’T STOP WRITING

My computer says November 4, 2022, 11:13 PM, yet my cell phone shows Thursday, January 5th, 2023, 4:44 PM?? Timeline jumps again? Therapy appt with Jayme jan 5th, talk with dad, wants to run for politics, ideas and questions and thoughts pouring through my brain, the image of Jennifer Lawrence as senator Stevie Selevens, who fights for the underdog and takes pride in her girl from the wrong side of the tracks background. She’s been through the mental, emotional, and physical abuse from a man who didn’t know how to love something without killing it. She’s lived the life as a single mother, dealing with a narcissistic ex, much like Kim Kardashian trying to make a new life for herself as a lawyer, secretly wishing to leave behind the limelight, the glitz and glamour, secretly afraid she’ll never be taken seriously when all she wants to do is make her dead father proud as her heart bleeds for lost causes, just like his had when he was her age. Taylor Swift has written all this to Kim, the truth that was in the envelope, and then she sang about it in her songs, because Taylor Swift is how I narrate songs in my head. I don’t know where all these thoughts come from but they just pour into my head and come out through my fingers, almost like I’m a robot channel from the Divine, connecting all our stories together as we walk each other home. Because really, aren’t we all living parallel stories, even the same stories…because reality is stranger than fiction, and Fairy Tales do come true, after all…if we only believe with faith like a child, faith like a mustard seed, the signs will lead us Home.

11/4/2022 11:25 PM 1/5/2023 4:55 PM Weird. I just tried to publish the above to Medium.com and I got this weird error message:

I also noted a weird blue screen when I first logged on saying it needed to REBOOT, like a program that started running when I log in. Ha ha nothing like a little paranoia. I’ve only done 2 edibles today, and they were only 5 mg each. The more I embrace the idea that I do have an Underground Fantasy world that I enjoy retreating from, safe from the Above which is way too loud and noisy for me, too overstimulating. Here I turn off my hearing aid, Dad’s voice reassuringly muffled in the background, talking on his cell phone to some guy at work, the comforting glare from the TV, droning on about Hamlin’s sudden collapse on the football field, and how they obtained ROSC in the field, the profound effects noted on the players’ faces. I used to say football is “just a game”. It may be a “game”, but I realized in that moment it wasn’t “just” a game. It was a game, just as serious as the game of life we’re all playing now. When they don the logos of the brotherhood they’re temporarily marauding with, a common goal in mind — the fame and prestige from that coveted Golden Ring — they’re embodying the ancient archetype of war, red versus blue, yellow versus blue, red versus green. Red and blue make purple, yellow and blue make green, yet blue and orange make mud, yet so eye catching together before, kind of like flashing signs… 😉

Oh, you’re not familiar with flashing signs? You didn’t know the matrix is made up of signs and symbols all around, if you only know how to decipher them and believe? LPT: Advertising executives know this. Why do you think logo’s are so important? The colors carefully chosen based on message and intent, pictures seeping into your subconscious subliminally, a sudden craving for McDonald’s fries that your dog won’t even eat, you can practically taste the golden saltiness…you know, the ad droning on in the background while you were talking to your family on the phone? Your frontal cortex was busy with your conversation, making it the perfect time for messages to seep into your underground subconscious, especially if it means draining your pockets into greedy corporate executives, selling cancer and addiction yet somehow sleeping peacefully in their beds high in the hills in the fortress they’ve built around them, because even they know just how much of a monster they truly are deep inside. Shame kept him from changing his ways…he was tired of it all — the materialism and greed. Tired of the constant grind, being churned down into dust to make everyone happy. Yet no matter how much he gave, they still chanted, “more, more, more!” like newborn birds, so hideously patheticly weak with their bills open, eyes wide shut, completely content to let him do all the work, even going as far as to gurgitate the worms before puking it out into their hungry stomachs. He sighed and did it anyway, because when he really became honest, he was doing it because he wanted to help them find a better way…he just got distracted by all the glitz and fame, expectations and dangerous vices. So he continued giving, but instead he started giving freely, without expectation of repayment.

A curious thing happened. The weak pathetic birds grew, and grew. Each day they grew stronger, and as they grew stronger they grew more confident. With each bit of confidence, they moved about in the adrenaline and dopamine rush of their excitement. As they moved about, their muscles quickly fatiguing yet getting stronger and stronger, until one day they were perched on the side of the nest, some peering nervously below, while others leaping into the air without abandonment, fierce in their faith that there was such a thing as invisible air that moves in the most delicisous ways under your wings. He chirped at the reluctant ones until they too flew away, and in the way only exhausted, desperate parents can sigh, not so gently nudged the last one out of the nest, already resassured he was just fine.

So what should this once monstrous bird do now that he has an empty nest, an empty to do list, and cold weather coming his way?

Sounds like the perfect time to be a snow bird, doesn’t it? 😉

Oh — and in case you didn’t realize — most of the time the monsters are misunderstood. Communication, my friends!! 😊

So I’m back, my computer and my phone both say January 5th, 2023 5:43 PM. Can’t help but wondering what I wrote November 4th? I just journaled and wrote the following craziness:

Jwrote THE GIRL WHO COULDN’T STOP WRITING, trying to publish it to Medium. Realizing Jennifer Lawrence playing me as Jen, my alterego Stevie Selevens, writer and politician, seeing Faith Hill embodying the perfect mother/wife archetype in my life, in the roles she plays and in what I know of her private light. I do know that her and Tim must be doing something right, because they’ve been together, obviously still in love like the first year they found each other again. I think about Taylor Swift, the songwriter I grew up with, how we were both going through similar life experiences as an adolescent girl in the 90’s and 00’s, dealing with all the drama we learned the hard way from in our 20s, to realizing we’re no longer the young ones anymore, realizing it’s up to us to fight for our right as human beings (rights not because I’m “AMERICAN”, or a “MONTANAN”, rights because I am a fucking human being with a soul, and all I know is the way our world is going to shit, it’s only up to me and my generation to step up, step in, and show the older generations that we’ve got it from here, but we sure as hell would appreciate any advice or suggestions while they become sunbirds and enjoy the life they worked hard for. I’m getting off track again…

Okay, 1/5/23 5:49 PM back to my journal…Realizing Jennifer Lawrence playing me as Jen, me as Stevie Selevens, writer and politician, to Faith Hill as a mother/wife archetype, her and Tim’s beautiful love story that Taylor Swift wrote about and Taylor Sheridan made into Yellowstone series. Everything Elsa went through in 1883, I felt, almost like the show unfolding from my own life experiences, feeling every thought and emotion as if it were my own. Elsa is real — she’s in the collective, and the more we each resonate with her, the more real she becomes…we each admire certain qualities about her, strive to become more like her, until we realize somehow when we weren’t looking, we’ve become the Elsa character — a young woman, fierce but naive, optimistic and brave. Elsa is Merida in Brave, in every fable like Robert Munsch’s The Paperbag Princess. This Princess/”Damsel in Distress” is tired of waiting. Yes, it’s the passive thing to do, and as women we should be passive, but why does Prince Charming have to do ALL the work? Besides, what if he tried to get into the castle she’d built around herself and thought her Dragon was unfriendly? How would he ever scale the walls? The longer she pondered the more she realized how stupid that whole societal expectation really was and made absolutely no sense. She saddled up her Dragon and went in search for adventure. Besides, wouldn’t it be more fun to be Prince’s Partner in whatever battle most made their souls leap with fierce determination as they fought for the underdog, the disprivileged and abused. Ooh, she suddenly heard swords clanging and look, Elsa has just become Daenerys Targaryan from Game of Thrones, sweeping in on her beloved Dragon to save the day. Funny thing about those archetypes — they have a curious way of turning into the Hero(ine’s) Journey as we all seek to evolve our soul as we realize one only thing remains: LOVE. SUPRA OMNIA, AMOR

January 5th, 2023 6:00 PM

Dangit…got off track again. Okay, back to journal. Taylor has grown up with me, so her songs will always resonate, like Fleetwood Mac for my mom, who resonated with Stevie Nicks she was going to name me after her (my grandpa said my name would be Jennifer, so my initials will the be same as him, and that was that…out of love and consideration, my Mom let me be named Jennifer. We still tried to make it a little more edgier by ending with an ‘i’ instead of a ‘y’ but really, there is no way to make “Jenny” edgy, and “Jennifer” makes me cringe, because once again I’ve been busted for doing something that made so much sense at the time, and if I could just explain you’ll see why it makes perfect sense that I forgot to get the Shop Vac out of the garage yesterday when we were cleaning up…sorry Dad. I got distracted…journal.

6:04 PM Journal. I am no longer going to elaborate on anything and will only type what is written strictly in my journal. FOCUS:

like Fleetwood Mac, so much so that she wanted to name me Stevie. I like Seven and Eleven numbers, so my alter ego is Stevie Selevens, author, politician wannabe, and my primary is Jennifer Lynn Keller. So why do they think I need medications for schizophrenia or some other “imbalance”? Because I see the world in a different way than you? You can’t see microwaves, but you know they cook your food…maybe neurodivergent people are dialed into a higher frequency than “normal” people and instead of trying to dumb us down to your level with awful zombie medications with horrible side effects (just so we can remain in the neat little box with clear expectations labeled on the outside). Hell, no. Why don’t you “normal” people wake the fuck up and realize if everyone else is the problem, maybe the problem isn’t them, maybe it’s YOU!

My mom tells me that when I’m spiralling. Fuck. Time to put down the flame/grenade thrower. It is fun pulling that out once in a while, but shit, my poor loved ones are probably tired of being burned just because they love an affable idiot because she voluntarily agreed to take all the shitty genes when they decided to incarnate together. Can’ see, can’t hear, brain’s all fucked up, astigmatism, weird ass sense of humor, a gap between her teeth and a pirate’s patch to try to fix her lazy eye (oh, and she even agreed to take Grandma Anna’s Norwegian chin and nose).

Ooops…back to the journal. *DEEP BREATH I’M A LITTLE WOUND UP FROM MY FLAME THROWER.* Focus…

January 5th, 2023 6:12 PM

Journal: Oh. I’m done ha ha Wonder what I wrote November 4th, 2022?

November 5th, 2023 8:12 PM So I just copied and pasted everything I wrote on Medium tonight, which was just freewriting whatever came to mind. Went to share it on Facebook because I’m pretty sure they’re about to put me in the looney bin and throw away the key, and the Medium link was being weird. So yeah, copied here and saved to the good old hard drive. My journal ;)