Although the following info, necessary it is not and will probably be viewed as TMI (TOO MUCH INFORMATION). By assumption, I conclude that my name is of little-to-no importance, but for humor’ sake, it is Jesse M Clowater. On the twenty-fourth of August, I was born to Ms. Jayne Clowater and my father Mr. Melvin Tibbs. He had a little somethin’, somethin’ to do with the whole procedure which all took place at the Charlottesville, UVA Hospital.

Everyone reading this, listening to the voice of my minds eye, is some degree smarter than not. For no one is stupid, and everyone smarter than. That’s kind of what BETTERthanBAD means, that and some. Some people thought it would be fun playing simple jokes on a disabled boy, but the joke is on them. I kind of knew this at the time but didn’t want to mess a good thing up. Looking back I can only learn from my mistakes.

Upon first coming home from the hospital, hearing what a “fun” fellow I had been before my “situation”. Not taking into account that friends, or supposed, will only say what will bring their own view on what the world should be to light. I said the things that would bring me up in their eyes. Partly from the accident and partly from my life before, my emotions had become emotionally blind so that I could not tell the differences between the truth and lies. Which way more than one person took advantage of I guess thinking if the roles were reversed or some nonsense like that but, it all was what it was.

What greeted me upon the first wake was preschool in nature, a form of 2D thinking. Everything falling in two categories, GOOD or BAD. Waking up my mind’s eye had little to no memory of prior instances, experiences to use in making even the most menial decisions. Thankfully, still in the hospital, everything was taken care of for me by people more professional than myself. The first couple of the seasons of my “re-birth” were spent in a “situation” I have grown to know as “third-person personality”, not to be confused with talking about oneself in the third person. Which is a rather schizoid personality disorder but thinking third-person. In which randomly, due to the situation, it was as if I was a spectator.


Later, upon being released, this allowed me to in a sense “nod and smile” metaphorically speaking while enduring repeated eye surgeries. Then being made to lie awake, face down, while my brain was being operated on. But I would like to focus on describing my surroundings, my world, when I first woke in the use first couple paragraphs and saving the stuff gritty than not for whenever I see fit. Which is all up to a person’s definition of what’s truly gritty, seeing that the definition changes depending who’s doing the speaking.

The world is a double-headed viper, both heading in opposite directions while facing each other. Sense it makes, it doesn’t. But the only thing that makes sense, it rejects. All the while one head is spouting one thing and the other head saying another. Neither one making any more sense than a babbling lunatic, nor talking with any sensibility. While this is happening, people aimlessly walk around pointing the finger at one another, he said she said. What I see is marred by life in general, but so is life marred by itself. Everyone’s is tainted by another be that what they hear on the radio, TV, friends, or family, and the only truth lies in Jesus’s peace. The true Peace all from the Prince of…

Jesus Christ, who in my book is the ONLY way to Heaven, is the Prince of Peace. I don’t know much but I know far more than I don’t, and since waking up in the hospital with a severe traumatic brain injury. Peace has been both my obsession and a thing yearned for.


Holla at me.

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