It’s always the worst at night. I have no idea why.
That’s when the images and sounds flood my mind. It’s as though someone made a movie and I saw only the first part. I loved the movie and wanted to see all of it. I loved it so much that I wanted to live in it, but I couldn’t.
And then someone had all the images and sounds and smells and emotions from the rest of that movie — and feeds bits and pieces of them to me at random times. It’s warm and loving images of love and family and home and everything I’ve ever wanted.
There‘s a projector on the inside of my skull — and someone plays those images. What I see teases me and torments me, but I can’t make them go away. I don‘t even know whether I want them to go away.
She’s always there. But she’s not really there.

I’m the common denominator in all of my failed relationships
Cambodia prison photos remind me of man’s inhumanity to man
My unconscious choices on love say much about women and me
THE McELROY ZOO: Meet Thomas, the aloof loner of my menagerie
Police shut down dealer in the never-ending ‘War on Lemonade’
‘All animals are equal, but [deaf] animals are more equal than others’
Health risk and social costs make drinking alcohol a very poor risk
On this website’s 10th birthday, I’m planning for the next decade