T-R-Swanson

Walking the edge, still frames snapshots, faces and/or places, are pretty much all that remain in my cranium. The hospital’s rooms, the unearthly glow of the lights and the never-ending presence of people entering and exiting the room. They randomly get burned to the backs of your eyelids for a minute, can only be likened to a dream now. From what I remembered, nothing too extreme was ever done to me, of course that all depends on what a person’s definition of what warrants the label “extreme”. It was never like I chose to go through what I did or ever thought about ending it all. It was and is REALITY, a thing over the years before my “situation” I had chosen to ignore. Either you learn from reality or reality learns you. Keyword being chosen, root to choose or choice, real life is chock full of them.

The first Sunday I could go, took me to the Church where I belonged. For that matter where everyone belongs but I wasn’t saved from my accident to point out the obvious. You see, the happening, my “situation”

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