(1) Managed to get some sleep last night. Although I awoke after one hours sleep to a punk kid in the hood ringing my doorbell at 3:15 in the morning, at least I didn’t wake up to two rookie cops shining their flashlights directly in my eyes and telling me to “move on” on Christmas Day.
(2) Ran two miles yesterday and did 18 push-ups. Easily, too. I guess I still have it in me. Most guys my age can’t run down the block.
(3) I can still kinda play the piano. Some people even say I’m getting better at it.
(4) I’m in good health. (Physically, that is.)
(5) I’m alive, and I believe I am going to heaven when I die; because although I have many sins, past present and future, I sincerely believe that Jesus died for them all.
(6) I like my church. In fact, I love my church. I even like the pastor. I’ve never liked a pastor before.
(7) I’m not in California, where everybody treats me like I’m crazy. Nobody up here treats me like I’m crazy, and I am so so glad. They don’t treat me like I’m worthless. Their smile toward me is genuine. They don’t get into my shit, and I don’t get into theirs. Nobody’s trying to change me. Nobody’s trying to put one over on me. Everybody accepts me for who I am. The prayers of years have been answered. I love North Idaho, and I super love this town.
(8) It’s always darkest before the dawn. There will be a light at the end of this winding tunnel; and this too shall pass.
(9) I don’t like my personality very much, but at least I’m not a deceived Nazi Aryan white supremacist violent idiot.
(10) At least I have my space. I’m an Artist. I need my space. I pray I put it to good use, after this. For so many years, I did not have my space. And people mocked me because of my devotion to my Art. They kept trying to transform me into somebody I was not, and they laughed at me when I didn’t conform to the mode – as though I were a curiosity piece, a knick knack, an item of decor, placed on their dinner table for their entertainment. I still remember the two of them, whom I thought were my friends, finding hilarity in the fact that I was having a first-time manic episode and losing my shirt. But nobody treats me like that up here. Nobody mocks me. Nobody jeers at me. Nobody scoffs, or sneers. And I love it. I hope I never again forget what I’m truly about. God help me, if I ever again forget who I am.
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