Monday, December 18, 2017
Regardless of how fast I ran,
of all the motion.
No matter the distance between,
the breadth, the space.
Despite each climb up from every fall
over and over again.
Even with all the time gone.
dreams, loves, hopes in hindsight.
I find myself
where I began.
Sunday, June 11, 2017
The thing about Major Depressive Disorder, it never really goes away.
Sure you may have moments where you feel okay. They may even last days, or weeks.
Is that hope? You may even dare to feel it. The tide went out.
But it always returns.
Monday, March 6, 2017
Tim Hinderliter was not shopping at the Broadway QFC, and the guy who was and looks like Tim (at a glance and when you're not wearing your glasses) does NOT like being called Tim.
Me: "Hey Tim! How... oh sor..."
NOT Tim: "WHAT?"
"I'm sorry, I thought you were Tim an..."
"I'M NOT TIM"
"Yeah, I see that now. Sorr..."
"DON'T CALL ME TIM!"
"I won't. You're not Tim. Got it."
"YOU SHOULDN'T JUST BUG PEOPLE!"
"I JUST WANT TO SHOP IN PEACE!"
"LEAVE ME ALONE! LET ME SHOP IN PEACE!"
"Okay, sorry" as I quickly move away, while he returns to considering lunch meat options and says (for emphasis, presumably) "I'M NOT TIM" during my apparently not quick enough exit.
Everyone else in the aisle had immediately become intensely interested in food labels, except one woman a bit further down the aisle. As I approached she greeted me with a smirk and a universally recognizable WTF? face.
"He's not Tim," I say to her, with my version of the universally recognizable WTF? face, "don't call him Tim."
"He should wear a sign or something," she says, smiling as we pass.
And now I get home and realize I forgot coffee (the whole reason I went) and have to go back. I hope NOT Tim isn't there.