Letters I'll Never Send

This year… Well, god knows….

As wonderful as this site is, the waiting times are getting ridiculous. I’d help them out, but that’s beside the point.

I need to connect with you more often with Skype or Whatsapp or even just over the phone. I’ll send my numbers to you on your business Skype and you can decide from there.

Here is a joke for you:

One day, a woman was walking through the park and she found a magic lamp. A genie popped out, as they are wont to do.

“You will receive three wishes,” he said. “But beware: whatever you wish for, your husband will get 100 times over.”

The woman says “I understand. I wish to be incredibly beautiful.”

The genie replies “You know your husband will become so irresistible that people from countries away will come to pursue him. Do you still want to make that wish?”

She nodded and became incredibly beautiful. “I wish to have a billion dollars and, yes, I know my husband will get 100 billion.”

The genie nods and grants her wish. “What is your final wish?”

The woman looks the genie straight in the eye and says “I want to have a small heart attack.”

It’s been about a week since surgery. While thankfully I have no memory of the surgery itself, recovery has been agonizing and rough. I liken it to something out of Stephen Kings Dreamcatcher. I’m grateful I’ve had a little help picking up the slack with the around the house dailies during recovery.

I got to have a little treat last night on the full moon , visiting a few bands we love over at Red Rocks. It’ll be their last tour in the states for awhile as the band announced and Im glad I got to be there for it. Given the terrain, I did better getting around than I thought I would however the following morning that price of passage would get paid in the body screaming demands of more time for recovery.

Hope your 4oth gave you hope for the future.

Only easing up enough between each intermission to make me think maybe we could avoid the hospital.

First we tested positive for covid, which didn’t change much for our usual reclusiveness besides general comfort.

We finally thought we were in the clear last night for Thanksgiving after no incidents for three days and accepted my neighbors invitation to share a meal since I had to miss out on hometown travels for all the sick.
My neighbors had recently had covid too but were also in that returning to the world phase.

I don’t think we were at the neighbors for more than 30 minutes before my kid stared getting a sad look and complaining of tummy trouble, I almost have her out the door to return her to the house when she starts vomiting, all over the entry and walkway. The husband and I tag team clean up. If that would have been it , it would have been more than enough, but after putting the husband and kid today I’m hit. I spend a very painful night in the bathroom. My throat feeling like it’s expelling acid. The next morning I remember I had been trying to cook an orange chicken in the oven when the feel bads hit. It’s at a loss now. It didn’t burn but did sit way too long.

I had just caught up laundry on the kids exorcism reenactment, looks like another catch up day is needed.

To thrust up against your warm wet body.

To the despicable Mr. Blue,

I dont hate you. I don’t have anything I need you to hear really, but I have lots to say. Maybe just a string of thoughts.

I realize now, that standing in your kitchen saying I’d had enough was the most powerful thing I could have done.

You are diagnosably a narcissist, praying on others, uncaring of the pain you cause to anyone. Your mom. Your children. Partners. All the people you belittle and shit talk, the people whose jobs and livelihoods you actively ruin for your own games. You’re actually a bad person. I tend to think most people are either good or just trying to survive the moment but you….you’re a calculated type of evil. It was something I couldnt wrap my head around because I’d never seen someone quite like you before, someone that disgusting and abusive in so many ways.

No means no, you sorry piece of shit. I DO get to choose what happens to my body. Sadly, those moments against my will were not the worst things you have done.

The truth is, you’ll never change and you’ll never be happy. The unfortunate part is that you’ll continue hurting others, and scaring your children in very lasting ways as you spew control and rage and utter abuse at them.

I’ve nothing left for you to know. You already knew those things before they were ever a thought in my head.

I don’t hate you, and I certainly don’t wish you well. But I hope one day, you get a heaping spoonful of your own hell.

Cheers!

I want to feel your wet body up against mine.

I want to fuck my boss.

I want to taste you.