Pretty Wendy, Part II

“You didn’t know my mom until you knew her in her best spots. I believe we brought that out in each other.”

I was fourteen when she walked out of my life. She had been mostly a supporting character in my life whose appearances had been…


Pretty Wendy, Part I

I’ve held on to the brightest parts of my mother. It’s a choice I find myself actively making rather than dealing with the incapacitating truth that she was — in the simplest way I have been able to think of — at war with herself. …


Your presence in my life reminds my soul to breathe. You revert the storms that crash over my head. You secure the path that my faith jeopardizes.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —…


Rain hits my window as the force of your presence strikes at my aching heart…

Thunder echoes through the beauty before us as those words that left your mouth;

“I’ll always be here…”

And all at once, lightning strikes the house of freedom, bringing me to my knees…

In awe…


i don’t know how it is possible to be the host of so much pain. they said it would pass with time, but it only gets more confusing.

i got this. i got this.

shit-

i, in fact, don’t got this.

my underarms ache as i hold the world up…


I haven’t been over in months. You gave me an opportunity, and well, I let you down. & I know that’s not possible — I mean the King of the universe doesn’t fall, and if I were the one holding you up, that’d be an everyday occurence.

Look, I love You. But I’m terrible at it. I want to blame you for all my mistakes, and my current condition, but I know I can’t. I know you put me through Hell to appreciate Heaven, but I feel like it’s all too much. I’m fighting, though.

Anyways, before I get off track, I just wanted to say sorry, and let you know I’m going to fight harder. I’m going to fight the good fight harder.

Until next time,

Jordan


A road trip with Uncle Jerm.

Sometime in Summer…

I had already buried Jerry by sunrise. At this point the only thing I knew to be real was the hunger. That, and the aroma from the game Jericho had brought in from the previous night. Dirty bastard never taught me how to prepare a dead buck…


The leaves crackle beneath your cracked feet,

The wind — a thief to my lungs; ironically awaiting my second wind,

We held hands in the woods without a compass,

We both found comfort in the silence.

Jordan T. Choate

they’re just words

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