Roady @Roady_Dragonfae@awoo.space

My body is actually having adverse reactions to that idea. It's almost like quitting drinking all over again. But if I can quit drinking, then I can quit subjecting myself to unnecessary stress.

Last night I dropped Koko off at West Seattle Animal hospital.

If anything, I see her as a teacher. Keeping her for nearly six months taught me the true value of what it means to surrender. Not just surrendering her, but to surrender on an existential level.

I've been a fighter for so long...Even when I didnt need to be... It's okay to relinquish control over a specific outcome.

Surrender...

Just surrender...

You don't have to be in control...

It's okay to let go...

You'll be okay...

There is no fate but what we make for ourselves. Bending the universe by the power of our will to shape a better, brighter future.

I've had chunks of my light stolen over the years, and I'm stealing it back.

Whatever shit these abusive people stuck to me in place of what they stole will be balled up and thrown right back in their faces with the same ruthless force as the meteor that killed the dinosaurs. For I owe them nothing.

This is one of the toughest decisions I've ever had to make in my life. A very emotional situation where I have a tough time holding back the tears. I'm not making this decision lightly.

I did the best that I could. All that I could.

She's the sweetest little dog I have ever met in my life. If it weren't for the extent of her health issues... If I really truly love her, I have to surrender her to a no-kill shelter or someone who can give her better care because no matter what I do she's still miserable and in pain, and I can see it on her face.

Koko's condition keeps getting worse... Fur is just flying off of her, she continues scratching to the point of bleeding, and whatever amount of care she needs I feel like I'm unable to provide.

Even when I'm currently in a temporary living situation where it seems it would be easier.... She still scratches to the point of bleeding. Further exacerbated by the fact that I'm now working full time.

(To be continued...)

SODO is the Skid Row of Seattle. All along the train tracks is a slum of tents and broken down RVs with police patrolling constantly. It's a depressing and sobering scene straight out of a dystopian sci-fi movie.

I'm working full time, but living in a van with a dog, every housing situation I reach for is going bust.

I'm lying here. Drained. Depressed. Crying my eyes out. I just need a stable place. That's all... And I feel like I'm fighting deslerately, tooth and nail.

I fucking hate capitalism. I may as well just break into a vacant house and squat there for as long as I can.

As I've continue to settle down and find stability in my life, the adrenaline is wearing off and I'm coming to the realization of just how wounded I truly am.

Some have scarred over, some are still fresh, there are lacerations I didn't even know I had because I really was fighting for survival.

It's time for me to heal. Fully.

I liken delivery driving to faring a space freighter to various planets and moons.

The baseline of all these walls is fear. A multitude of fears for that matter. All of it being a subconscious pull to become more withdrawn instead of open. Fear of rejection, fear of hurting someone or fear of being hurt myself.

I know a mate when I feel it. When the energy is there and we have the same wavelength. It's a matter of having the courage to be assertive. Otherwise it's just going to be one missed opportunity after another....And more heartbreak on top of that.

I know I'll run into a mate eventually. The amount of time in getting there is just...Painful.

It's just a longing for more intimacy in my life... A deeper connection. At the same time I hit some kind of a wall when it comes to bringing people closer.

Time and again I keep choosing isolation over intimacy... It's time for that cycle to finally come to an end.

The mullet is an underappreciated hairstyle David Bowie extricated from the tangles of hickdom and queered the everloving fuck out of.

This morning, I was sitting in the petco parking lot when I see a cop car coming around and making its way to the other side of the lot. I quickly turn to look at Koko before glancing behind me. Even at the trajectory the cop car was heading, it was gone. Nowhere to be seen.

Am I actually seeing interceptors that aren't really there? This is fucking creepy...

Is my PTSD bad enough that I'm actually seeing cop cars that aren't there? It's happened twice already.

Once, when I was riding through Chinatown in my mope, I see a cop car in my mirror and turn onto a one way street. Circled the block, and the car was gone. Even though the only way they could go was a one way street. (To be continued)