May 11, 2018:
Impossible dream of intelligence, beauty, culture, charm, kindness, youth, kink, and total sexual abandon.
Age matters now. The years lost. That's where her harm counts.
I'm changed. Not mired in depression. Stubbornly optimistic. Focused on what's deserved, no longer on what's lost.
But I'm also damaged in new ways. PTSD. There's always some fucking thing.
I'm pudgy, slack, droopy, tired-looking. There was a time when I was attractive. Not so sure of that just now.
The path forward is easy to illuminate.
Therapy, meds, nutrition, exercise. The four legs of the recovery table.
Who will I find there once I've walked that walk?