in a cruel twist of fate, nearly a year to the day, i find myself crippled again. The only thing keeping myself above the wells of anger and cursing my darker, twistier self is that i had a great night despite. And if i had seen that mat cloaked under sand, alcohol and darkness, a june ride on a cold swing would have been probably nausitating and the unforgettable residue of 'foreign blackstuff' on borrowed clothes never goes down well.
we learn what we learn. sometimes we need to fall down in the wet sand to get it, sometimes we fall down stairs, or off one too many bar stools... but we fall for reasons.
reasons are still unclear but somet