I would say the current tale is honest, but not factual.  Honest in that I'm writing what flows without a plan, but I do know how it'll probably.  And it's true I did lack a pulse for a year, you could not find it.

Which was odd.

But you still wake up in the morning and go about your day, right ?  The tone places the perspective from before we met, I'd say about twelve years ago.  The guessed ending however will place it in 2006.  It seems like scraping the inside of my skull for old traumas, latent disgruntlement, old bitters with maybe a few gut twists that are good to remember.

Part of this healing process going on.

Last week old wounds started cycling through and then healing more perfectly, this seems to be the same psychologically, and it came with the desire to write.  It did not however come with a plan.

Tried.

Some cool new heroes, some awesome plot trick, some sweet set piece, but ... had nothing so I just started writing anyway.  This process of the mind is worth capturing on film so to speak, but it won't last and it makes for good grit.

Using it.

Don't care if it's good, to me, it's interesting.  People ask about the path that got me here, this is digging all of that up.  I think if I tried writing about it normally it would turn up a cheese, which is why I never did.  

When you win a lot and talk about it, it just comes across as self serving, unless it's really told with the pain at the time.  When I, or anyone really, talks about walking through the desert, it's not about the excruciating pain in every step.

It's the good parts, perhaps punctuated by these things but at the time it happened, it was one hundred percent about these things, punctuated by those few good.  And the only thing that made one worthy of telling the tale at all, was the ability to see those very few good moments through all that suffering, at that time.

It's been a hard road, harder than I like to let on.  But a good one, and absolutely worth it.  It's also the one I chose, and the one I keep choosing.  Honestly the only one that makes sense to me, if only because I can.

At this moment ... no it's not really pleasant at all.  Any enemies or what not may wish to take this moment to savor that.  But it's a temporary path and I do like where it's going.  It's good to drop this baggage off, re-heal old wounds, heal the ones you didn't realize were.

Not pleasant, but good and it makes for a good tale along the way.

Though it is odd hashing through old shit and bone cracks I thought was resolved years where not decades ago.

I never really resolved with myself what it could possibly mean to have no pulse for a year.  Why of all things to think about it makes me sad.  I play like it's funny, because honestly it kind of is.  But to me there's something about it that makes me deeply sad about it and I have no idea why that is.  What could it possibly mean ?

I know I'll never have an answer, it's impossible that it even happened.  So I guess the only way I can ace it is emotionally.  Did I die ?  I think maybe I did.

...

And I guess that's a thing !  But here I am nonetheless, everything since has been like a funeral for something lost, but it's all right here.  Like counting your collections over and over even though the numbers are always the same ... 

So I avoided it.  Apparently I can't do that anymore so here we are.  Too bad accepting that didn't come with a free answer but it didn't.  And no I don't expect anyone else to have an answer, how could they.  I'm mourning myself.

I think.

That's what it feels like but I'm still here and I do feel like it's just because I'm not done yet.  But it doesn't change the fact that I died and that makes me sad.  

Why ?  

It's absurd.