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.

‘Tolerant’ left seethes with hate if you don’t accept ‘gender theory’
I wanted to be Capt. James Kirk; have I become Ignatius J. Reilly?
Loving father’s pride in daughter easily bridges our language gap
Romantic love is part obsession, part reality — and part madness
Instinctive desire to ‘do something’ almost always leads to bad policy
We’re great at making big plans, but God laughs at our intentions
For first time in my life, I fear not finding love and life I’ve needed