Sunday, July 16, 2017


Let's take a break, okay?

I know: I'm telling this story very slowly. And it may seem far too early for me to pause, but therein lies the fundamental divide between a storyteller and his audience. As I sit here in the cabin, shaded from the brutal heat outside, this gap between us feels wider and deeper than it has ever been in my life.

Telling a story, even true ones like this, is a wound that doesn't heal until the telling is done. The author bleeds and bleeds regardless of how positive or optimistic the tale might be, while the reader is simply a static observer there to watch the show. This isn't me talking shit about you, dear reader. Far from it. You're the reason I'm here, tapping away on an ancient and bug-ridden laptop while my caretaker goes and clears the straggler zombies who've made it this far into the woods.

But because this is in fact a painful, hard series of events to share with you, I can only take so much. Sometimes I need a break from it, or even a break from writing altogether. I know it's not what you want to hear, but it's the truth. We all have mental and physical limits.

I liken it to a computer glitch. Or not even a real error, if you prefer. Just as a CPU will begin to fail if the machine overheats, so too does my emotional control erode if I let my brain get too deep into the weeds with these memories.

If I'm being perfectly honest, I didn't know how hard it would be to not only remember, but in a way that requires me to carefully reconstruct these events. I know, I know: I'm harping on about it. I promise not to make this a habit.

Just know that I plan to soldier on, no matter how difficult it might be.

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