This was originally penned on the 25th day of April, 2021. It was a Sunday. It has been reprinted here for posterity and/or austerity (whichever you prefer). Enjoy.
In an early episode of the Pokémon anime, Ash and friends rescue a Charmander orphaned by a mean-spirited trainer in a thunderstorm. His tail flickers furiously, as he has to keep it lit to stay alive.
There are times like these in all of our lives. If we are lucky and cede to good people, we are able to persevere and put the bad times behind us. For me, the worst time of mine had come years ago, as I sat in an in-treatment facility for a span of eleven days. It was the only time I thought it would be better to be dead.
I reasoned it because of the utter defeat I had suffered by that point in my life. Many evil people had their darkest hour against me, and I had lost every inch of ground I had, including my own bodily autonomy. I had lost every ally and had nothing to fight with anymore. I thought it would be better to keep the honour of my true self in tact and put myself out of it because that person didn’t deserve this. All of you who know me knows that to be true. I know you have wept at that all the same as I did, and so I am eternally indebted to that humanity of yours. We share these bonds as much to mourn that as we do to celebrate our very lives for its own sake.
I remember listening to Skylar Grey’s Coming Home, an ambient remix by A.N.O.. I lived those lyrics out in my mind, and I thought maybe my kingdom awaits. I’ll never forget the image, this golden castle seemingly made of butter and gold at once, surrounded in a murky sandstorm that looked more like a plasma of immutability. It was the Heaven where everything is over.
Another part of me rejected the whole thing out of hand as ridiculous. I didn’t feel that as much, but I knew it was right. So, I picked myself up, soon checked out, and carried on. As an old Thaddeus Thatch once said, “when you hit rock bottom, the only place to go is up.” So I went.
Hey! Thanks for reading. This one is a republishing, so it’s a free read, as before. I run this Substack to help break myself out of relative poverty and earn the white collar lifestyle I was not endowed with growing up. It’s $5.55/month to subscribe, or $55.55/year. That’s like the Interstella movie, or something. Think Daft Punk. Totally worth it.