Eight years ago I was living with the love of my life. We had just moved in together sharing a duplex with my sister. I still had some automatic aspects to how I proceeded with my life. That wasn't the happy ending that I thought it would be. The alternative was just as bad as the first. The tertiary?

By the gods, what was I thinking?

I mostly played the same games, and I mostly made the same mistakes. I could feel the edges of my body begin to fray. My mind was chipped away to it's rudimentary components by the riptide of a hand the celestial dealers passed my way. an eternal tailspin. A doom spiral into the grave.

One day at a time, I pieced them back together. When I began to broker a bargain with my inner demons I realized they were pieces of myself that had broken off and warped by trauma. Left to morph in the darkness into something, while unrecognizable, was still me. While still harsh pieces of broken glass they form not the sculpture that they used to be, but a mosaic of restoration into what is to become.

While I have experienced the effects of what the starvation of exercise can do an organism, I am still young enough for the damage to be undone. The time in which I feel most alive is when I can feel the strength of my heartbeat from a long run. The burn of my metabolism throwing excess heat from my muscles.

Who was the creature that I used to be? If I were to be stuck with myself eight years ago, how would that go? Maybe I'll write about it. Maybe I will write a lot more.

I've got nothing but time and a chrome book now while I focus on my career and shift from gaming to more artistic avenues.