Bradley Alan, this is Brad…

…You really Really REALLY need to shut–down that lovely brain of yours.

You‘re really Really REALLY driving me crazier than I thought possible.

There is way Way WAY tooooooo much going on in here right now.

I‘m getting tired.

Aren‘t you???

Please???

–ME/YOU

So, What If You Don’t Enjoy Swimming???

DON‘T. GO. SWIMMING.

Period.

I’m A Decent Swimmer, I Just Sincerely HATE Swimming.

Always Have.

I Went Because Other People Always MADE ME GO.

But, Isn’t That How It Generally Works In Regard To A Lot Of Life?

We Didn’t Really Wanna Do It, But We Didn’t Really Have A Choice In The Matter?

Yeah.

That’s How That Works.

Well, I Went Swimming Yesterday Afternoon.

Why?

Because.

“UNCLE BRAD“

Is

“ON DUTY“

🙂

I Love Being “ON DUTY“…

…And That’s A Big FO SHO On That, My Peeps!

I Can’t Deny It, So I Won’t Even Attempt It.

So, When The Nephew Says… “Brad, You Said You’d Go!”

Brad’s Response Is… “Sure Thing, Dude. I Did. Let Me Get My Towel.”

If My Response Were Anything Else, Honestly, There Would Be Hell To Pay.

Perhaps, I Mean That Figuratively AND Literally?!

Yep.

I Think I Do.

But, Yeah, I Went Swimming.

And I Swam.

And, Today, I’m Sore, Exhausted, Sun–Burnt, And Have An Awful Headache.

BUT…

…I Did Have Fun…

…I Did Make My Nephew Happy…

…And I Did Agree To Go Swimming With Him Again Very Soon, As That’s The Only Way I Could Convince Him To Get Out Of The Freakin’ Pool!

Arrrgh!!!

YES, I Still HATE Swimming.

But, YES, I’ll Be Going Back, Next Time.

What Choice Did/Do/Will I Honestly Have???

Correct.

None. At. All.

And THAT Is FINE With ME.

😀     😉     😀

When Remembering Turns To Dwelling Turns To Suffering…

…You Know You‘re Fu*ked.

—At This Moment, I‘m Writing Just To Watch Myself Write.

I‘ve Slept Less Than 35–Hours In The Past 10–Nights COMBINED.

I‘m Irritable.

I‘m Sullen And Moody.

I‘ve Lost 15–LBS In That 10–Day Span.

I Don‘t Understand Why I Let Myself Get This Depressed.

I Know I Do It To Myself.

It‘s My Own Fault.

But, I‘M Not My Own Fault.

I Know That.

I Never Have Been.

I Was Created And Shaped By Events In My Life That Have Seriously Fu*ked-Me–Up.

Why Can‘t I Shake This?

Why Does The Past Still Cling To Me Like The Stench Of Death?

It Haunts My Day–To–Day Existence.

I Know Why.

BECAUSE I LET IT.

Period.

MY BAD.

It‘s These Memories.

I Can‘t Handle Them As Well As I‘d Like To.

As Well As I SHOULD.

It‘s Honestly Maddening.

It‘s Hard.

It‘s So Very VERY Hard.

I Go From Day To Day Seeing No Benefit From It All.

I‘ve…

…Sheesh…

…I‘ve Become My Own Worst Enemy.

Just As I Was Always TOLD I Would Be.

Just As I Always KNEW I Would Be.

It Happens To Us All At Some Point, Sure.

It’s Life.

It‘s LIVING Life.

My Moments Of Weakness And Horror Come To Me Like Flashes.

As Images.

Images A Person Should Never See.

No One.

The Thoughts Linger.

The Ill–Feelings They Cause Linger Longer.

Am I Having An Identity Crisis?

Whatever It Is, It‘s Hanging On Way Way WAY Tooo Long.

Talking To People Is Becoming More And MORE Difficult.

There Are A Couple Key People I‘d Love To Talk To.

They Just Don‘t Want To Talk To Me.

Sometimes, I Break Down And Simply MUST Talk To Someone.

Those Are The Moments When I‘m Feeling My Worst.

When I Know Something‘s Wrong Inside, And I Need To Make An Outside Connection Before I Snap.

I Feel The Worst, Though, When I Do Have To Ask For Help.

But, At The Point I Start Talking, I‘m Already Scraping The Bottom Of The Barrel For The Oxygen I Need To Survive.

I Am.

It Gets Hard To Breathe.

I Start Feeling Sorry For Myself.

I Lose Personal Control.

I Become Someone Else.

Someone I Truly Am NOT.

A Whining…

…Crying…

…Sniveling…

…Used–To–Be.

I Know I’m Only 30‘ish‘ish.

Some Attempt To Push Upon Me That I‘m Still Far Too Young To Deal With Shit As I Do.

But, Everyone‘s Different…

…Correct???

Everyone‘s Got Their Own Stopping And Starting Point.

Their Own Breaking Point.

I Guess Mine Was Just A Bit Earlier In Life Than Some Others.

I Know I Don‘t Have It That Bad.

It‘s Not Like Someone Close To Me Has Died, Or Is Dying.

It‘s Simply The Past.

A Past I‘ve Yet To Beat.

A Past I‘ve Yet To Escape From.

A Past I‘ve Yet To Come To Terms With.

A Past I‘ve Yet To Let Go Of And Move On From.

And It‘s Destroying My Present.

I Guess Some Of This Is Normal, Right?

Thinking Of It All Has Just Brought Me Down So Much.

I Just Feel Very Alone, At Times.

But, I Do Understand That Life Could Be Much Worse.

Sadly…

…My Once Remarked–Upon Eyes Are Heavy, Dark, And Tired.

My Hopeful Outlook Has Turned Bleak.

Yet, Despite It All, I Survive.

MAYBE It All Has Made Me Stronger In Some Ways?

But, At What Personal Cost?

With Age And Experience Has Also Come Fear…

…Hate…

…Despair.

Where I Once Felt Love, I Now Feel Bitterness.

Where I Once Felt Alive, I Now Feel Drained.

Where I Once Cared About Life, I Now Resent It.

So Sad, Yet, So True.

It Just Pisses Me Off To No Extent.

When Wonderful Memories Become Jaded With Time.

I Swear, It Literally Makes Me Sick.

What I Wouldn‘t Give For A Moment‘s Peace.

A Clear Mind.

A Quiet Mind.

I Know I Have Some Amazing Moments Stored In My Brain–Case.

I‘ve Just Become To Bitter To See Them.

*** ***

PLEASE, My Peeps…

…Don‘t Be Alarmed By Anything I‘ve Said.

It‘s Just A Downer Moment For Me, And I‘m Allowing You To Experience It With Me.

I Guess I Just Wanted To Vent A Bit, As I Often Do When I Get Like This.

As I‘ve Said To Y‘all Before…

…Sometimes, It‘s Not Just The BEST Therapy…

…It‘s The ONLY Therapy.

Right???

RIGHT!!!—

I Ran Across This Quotation Last Night…

…And It Felt Very VERY Relevant To What I’ve Been Doing Of Late.

“The Man Who Writes About Himself AND His Own Time Is The Only Man Who Writes About All People AND About All Time.”

—GEORGE BERNARD SHAW

I May Not See It Exactly As SHAW Had, But I Get The Gist Of What He Was Saying.

I Write About Myself, Mainly, Because I’m What I Know.

A Person MUST Write What They Know, And I’m The One Subject I Know The Best.

Sometimes, I Wish I Didn’t Know Myself So Well.

Sometimes, I Wish I Could Just Turn It All Off.

As Kids, My Brother Had A Standing Order For Xmas Or Birthday Gifts.

He Wanted A “Remote Controlled Bradley” So He Could “Turn Him Off“!!!

😦

I’m Not Even Joking There, My Peeps.

That’s Exactly What He Wanted.

People Have Wanted To Turn Me Off The Bulk Of My Life.

It Comes With The Territory.

It Goes Hand–N–Hand With Mental Illness.

No One Knows How To Fix You…

…Yet Everyone Wants To.

Even Little Brothers.

So, What Can I Say Toward That?

Honestly, Not Much.

I Do Wish I Had An Off-Switch.

It Would Have Come In Handy Many, Many Times.

But, Alas, I Do Not.

So, Now What?!

Help Me Here, My Peeps.

What’s Up?

What’s The Story?

What’s The Scoop??

What Can I Do???

It’s Just A Bit After 5AM…

…Yet, Here I Sit…

…Talking To Y’all…

…Wishing I Had More To Honestly Say.

Everything I Want To Say, I Can’t.

Everything I Want To Do, I Can’t.

So, Where Does That Leave Us?

If You Said “Right Back Where We Started“ You’d Be Very Much Correct.

I’m Tired.

I Feel Used-Up.

I Feel Worn-Out.

Maybe I Should Try Going Back To Bed?

Well, I Would If I Knew It Would Be A Positive.

But, It Wouldn’t Be.

It’d Just Be More Of The Same.

Tossing.

Turning.

Blankly–Staring.

I Just Don’t Know, My Peeps.

I Sincerely Don’t Know.

I Do Know I Don’t Write For All People…

…Nor For All Time.

I’m Just Here.

I’m Just Me.

I’m Just Writing What Feels Right.

Even Though, Sometimes, It’s Very VERY Wrong.

I Hate My Brain.

I Hate My Heart.

I Hate Everything About Myself.

Why?

Because, I Don’t Function Properly.

I Can Be The Nicest, Most Charming Person Around.

And, Then, In The Same Breath, I Can Be Malicious.

I Can Be Cruel.

I Can Be Evil.

Life’s Funny That Way, I Suppose.

Is It Funny I Find That Funny?

Is It Wrong?

Is It In Bad-Taste?

I Just Don’t Know.

I Do Know It’s Time To End This Ramble.

I’m Just Not Feeling It.

I Started–Out Shaky On The Subject…

…And I Remain So.

So, I’ll Just Shut-Up.

Perhaps Later I’ll Be More Able To Convey My Thoughts And Feelings.

Right Now…

…Both MY MIND And MY HEART Are In A Very Dark Place.

Trying To Work When I’m Like This Is Generally A Bad Thing.

Nothing Good Has Ever Come Of It…

…And I Don’t See Any Good Coming Anytime Soon.

Perhaps Later?

Perhaps.

We Haven’t Talked Much Of Late. That’s Probably My Fault. Oops.

MY BAD, My Peeps.

MY BAD.

Just So I Get This Out Of The Way With Y’all…

…I Feel Horrid.

I Slept About 6-Hours This Afternoon/Evening.

I Didn’t Mean To.

I Kicked Back In The Comfy Chair…

…Closed My Eyes…

…And The Next Thing I Know I’m Waking Up Late Late Late.

Talk About A Real Pisser.

One Would Think Getting Plenty Of Sleep Would Make Me Feel Better.

Nope.

Not. At. All.

If Anything…

…I Feel Worse.

Such Is Life, I Suppose.

Think/Feel You’re Doing The Best Thing For Yourself…

…And Come To Find-Out, It Wasn’t.

Sounds Like The Story Of My Life.

Sounds Like The Story Of Many MANY Lives.

I Wish I Could Get Back To Sleep…

…But I Know That’s An Impossibility.

I Also Know I Won’t Sleep For Shit Tonight, Nor Will I Be Able To Sleep-In.

It’ll Be Another LATE NIGHT And EARLY MORNING.

😦

Par For The Course, I Suppose.

Sooooo…

…I’ll Likely Be Watching Documentaries All Night Long.

I Do So Love Them.

Calming.

Soothing.

Educational.

Time-Consuming.

All The Things I Count On When Watching A Quality Doc.

I Just Wish I Weren’t So Lethargic, Tonight.

I’m Draggin’ Ass, If You Must Know.

And Yet, I’m In No Way Tired Enough To Sleep.

Typical, Eh?

Typical, Indeed.

So, What Is One To Do?

Is This A “Suck It Up And Deal With It“ Moment???

That’s How It Feels.

Right OR Wrong…

…That’s How It Feels.

I Think It’s Time To Attempt Something.

Rest?

Relaxation?

Doesn’t Matter.

Just So Long As I Get Some Sleep.

Or…

…Well…

…MORE Sleep.

Perhaps This Sleep Will Honestly Be Restful.

The Sleep I Got Earlier Just Made Me More More MORE Sleepy.

Such Is Life, I Say.

Such Is Life.

I Had So Much More Planned For This Post, Yet My Eyes Are Tired, Heavy, Stinging.

One Day, I’ll Get My Sleep/Wake Cycle Worked-Out.

One Day.

My Tired Eyes: Or, How Bradley Learned To Continue Worrying And Became Rutger Hauer

Oh, These Winter Blues.

Oh, How They Really Do Love Me.

Well…

…It, Honestly, Feels More Like They Really Hate Me.

Like, Really REALLY Hate Me…

…A Lot.

As I Told A Friend The Other Night…

…I Looked At My Eyes And I Said…

“I Look Tired.”

Not “Sleepy”…

…But “Tired.”

There IS A Difference.

A Difference I’m Sure Y’all Would Be Able To Distinguish Between.

I Also Told Him That My Eyes Have Seen Enough To Be Worth Four (4) More Pairs Of Them.

I’ve Seen Things With These Eyes That Would Stagger Some People.

I’ve Seen Things I’ll Never Be Able To Forget, No Matter How Hard I Try.

Exceptional Things.

Terrible Things.

Happy Things.

Horrid Things.

Some Of Which I Can Discuss, These Days.

Most Of Which I Could Never Discuss, Regardless Of The Day.

…

… … …

[[[—Right Now, Honestly, I Feel Like RUTGER HAUER At The End Of “BLADE RUNNER” When He’s On The Building’s Rooftop With HARRISON FORD.

“I’ve Seen Things You People Wouldn’t Believe…“

Ya Know It?!

The One RUTGER Eventually Closes Out By Saying:

“…All Those Moments Will Be Lost In Time, Like Tears In Rain. Time To Die.”

EXCEPT, I’m Not Dying.

AND, I Don’t I Have A Bird To Play With And Fondle.

AND, I’m Not A Replicant.

BUT, Otherwise, I’m Totally RUTGER HAUER.—]]]

… … …

…

But, They Are Tired, My Peeps.

They’re So SO Tired.

And, The More They See, The More They Experience, The More Tired They Make The Rest Of Me.

The Eyes Are Very Powerful.

Windows Into The Soul, And What-Not.

Winter Days, Like The Past Few, Really Do Bring Out My Mopey, Down-Trodden Self.

While My Very First Memory Is Of A Smell…

…Most Of My Memories Are Of That Which I’ve Witnessed.

Of Which I’ve Seen, Up-Close, In Person, Nothing Edited.

Wonders.

Horrors.

Yes, I’ve Seen AND Remember So Much In-Between…

…But, Like Most People, The Wonders AND The Horrors Stand-Out The Most.

I Remember So Much That Does Make Me Happy.

But, It All Blurs Much Easier AND Faster Than I Could’ve/Would’ve/Should’ve Expected.

It Blurs Much Easier AND Faster Than The Horrors.

The Horrors Don‘t Blur.

If Anything, They Shine More So.

They‘re More Vivid These Days Than They‘ve Ever Been.

I Close My Eyes, I See Them.

I Open My Eyes, I See Them.

Damn You, Eyes, Why Did You Ever Look?

Why Did You Ever See?

Why Did You Burn These Images Into My Mind?

They’re There Forever, Now.

To Be Recalled Over And Over Again.

Recalled For The Rest Of My Life, However Long Or Short It May Be.

Damn These Tired, Tired Eyes.

Have They Betrayed Me?

Have They Failed Me?

No.

If Anything, They’ve Worked Tooooo Well.

They’ve Picked-Up Details Most People Would Never Even Consider.

But, Damn Them Anyway.

Damn Them.

When I Sat Down To Write This, I Sincerely Didn’t Know To What End I Was Writing Toward, Nor For.

Maybe I Still Don’t.

It’s Not Finished.

At Least, It Doesn’t Feel Finished.

Not. At. All.

Not. At. All. At. All.

So…

…What‘s The Cure For Tired Eyes?

And No, I Don’t Mean Plastic Surgery On Them To Make Them Appear More Life-Like.

In Fact, I Know Of No Surgery That Could Ever Reverse The Damage.

Well…

…One Could Always Get Lobotomized.

😐

“DAMMIT.”: Again :(

Yeah.

I Had Another Of Those Moments.

Except, This One Is Of A Different Nature.

Same Result, Though.

“DAMMIT.”

Why?!

Well…

…I Decided To Go For A Walk.

It’s The First Time I’ve Attempted A Lengthy Walk-About Since My Latest Medical Scare.

It Started-Off Well Enough.

I Was Moving.

My Left Leg Was A Bit Gimpy, But It Was Functioning.

So I Pressed-On.

I Was Jamming To Some Excellent Tunage.

It’s Pretty Brisk Outside, But It Felt Wonderful To Be Out-&-About.

And THEN…

…”DAMMIT.”

The Bottom Kinda Fell Out Of The Whole Experience.

My Left Leg Gave-Out…

…AGAIN.

😦

I Damn Near Fell Flat On My Face.

Thank Jeebus I Wasn’t Around A Bundle Of People, Or I Would Have Felt A Tinge Of Embarrassment.

There Was NOTHING Funny About It.

I Was About 6-Blocks From My Home.

😦

So, I Had To Drag My Leg Back To The House.

It Was NOT Fun.

“DAMMIT.”

“DAMMIT.”

“DAMMIT.”

Granted, I Could Have Called For A Ride Back To My Place.

But, I Didn’t.

I Decided To Fight My Body And Make A Go Of It.

And I DID Make It Home.

I Was Exhausted.

Worn To A Frazzle.

But I DID Make It.

And Now, Here I Am Talking To Y’all.

“DAMMIT” I Tell You.

“DAMMIT” Indeed.

😦

Now, I’m Unsure Of What To Do.

I Have A Lot I Want To Accomplish, But Don’t Have Much Energy Left In Ye Ole Tank.

So, I Do Believe It’s Time For A Rest.

I Feel Like That’s All I’ve Been Doing, Though.

Resting Gets Pretty Frickin’ Frackin’ BORING.

I Don’t Really Get Bored That Often.

I Can Generally Find Something To Do.

I’m Pretty Resourceful.

Just Not Today.

Not. At. All.

That’s Probably Why I’m Posting This.

I Needed To Flex The Ole Chops AND Find Something Constructive To Do.

I Figure This Counts.

It Does…

…Right???

😦

“DAMMIT.”

Well, Again, Here I Am. But Do I Bring Anything New To The Table???

The Likely Answer Is NO.

Nothing New Has Happened.

Nothing New Ever Happens That’s Honestly Worth Mentioning.

Just Wide Awake At This Ungodly Hour.

One Would Think I’d Be Used To It By Now.

Sadly…

(...Or Not So Sadly...)

…I’m Not Used To It.

Never Have Been.

Never Will Be.

I Just Wanted To Apologize, My Peeps.

Apologize For My Recent Behavior.

I May Be A Dweller, Yes…

…But That Doesn’t Mean I Have To Take It Out Here.

Out In The Open, As I Have.

A Love Life…

(...Or Lack Of One...)

…Should Always Be Handled In A Much More Private Manner.

I Haven’t Done As Such.

I’ve Made My Issues Public.

But I’m A Writer.

Writers Write.

I So Express Myself Better In This Way.

Always Have.

When It Comes To Talking, I Generally Stay Quiet.

Generally.

I Fumble My Words, Otherwise.

At Least This Way I Have More Control.

Or, At Least, I Feel I Do.

… …

I’ve Talked Recently Of Wanting.

Of Needing.

Things I Must Have.

Things I Wish I Had.

Things I Know I’ll Never Ever Never Ever Ever Possess.

And What Good Has Come From Any Of It?

Not A Goddamn Bit, That’s What.

I Just Feel Like Me.

Feeling More Isolated.

Feeling More Alone.

Feeling More Hopeless.

Feeling More Helpless.

I Just Don’t Know, My Peeps.

I Don’t Know What To Do.

I Don’t Know What To Say.

I Don’t Know What To Write.

It’s Not Like There’s A Lack Of Material.

Oh, Heavens No.

I Could Write And Write, Seemingly Forever, If I So Chose.

But I Don’t.

And So…

…I Don’t.

I Suppose I’m Just Hopping With Anticipation.

I Want To Know What’s Wrong With Me.

I Want To Really REALLY Know.

The Coming MRI Seems To Be My Best Bet For Finding Any Answers.

The Problem I’m Having Is…

“What Do I Do If They Don’t Find What They’re Looking For?“

Do I Just Carry On…

…Happy The Test Says I’m Healthy?

To ME…

…That Would Seem Like A Failure.

Like A Waste Of Time, Effort, Money, Resources, Etc Etc.

I’m Not Saying I Want Them To Find Something.

I’m Saying I Hope It Tells Them What They Want To Know.

Because If It Doesn’t, I’m Totally Up-Shit-Creek.

I’m Tired.

I’m So Very Tired.

I Wish I Could Sleep.

Anticipation Is Amazingly Wonderful, Sometimes.

Other Times, It’s Just A Big Ole Bitch.

And I Still Have Two More Days To Wait.

Two More Days Of Anticipation.

Two More Days Of Deeply Seeded Want.

I Must Have This Test.

I Sincerely NEED This Test.

I Suppose I’m Just Scared.

That’s The Best Answer I Can Come Up With, At The Moment.

There’s Nothing Wrong With Being Scared…

…It Just Shouldn’t Be Allowed To Interfere With Day-T0-Day Existence.

It’s Too Powerful.

Fear.

But, What Am I Afraid Of?

I Wish I Knew.

Any Thoughts, My Peeps?

Perhaps I’m Just Scared They Really Wont Find What They’re Looking For?

?       ?       ?

I Suppose I’m Just Getting Tired Of Tests.

I’ve Had Plenty.

Undoubtedly…

…I’ll Have Plenty More With Time.

So…

…Here I Am.

Well…

…Here I Am AGAIN.

Do I Bring Anything New To The Table?

No.

Do I Further The Discussion?

No.

So What Do I Do?

I Sit Here.

I Write.

While Others Are Sleeping…

…Here I Am.

While Others Are Working…

…Here I Am.

While Others Are Out Having Fun…

…Here I Am.

And What Good Has Come From It?

Not A Goddamn Bit, That’s What.

This Is More Therapy Than Anything Else.

Writing Quiets My Mind.

It Allows Me To Center My Thoughts.

Even Though They May Come-Out As A Jumbled Mess…

…That’s Sincerely Not The Intention.

Surely Not.

Maybe I Just Need Sleep.

Trust Me, My Peeps…

…I Would If I Could.

I Surely Would.

But I Can’t.

So I’m Not.

Period.

The MRI Is Scheduled…

…So Now I Wait.

I’m A Professional At Waiting.

My Whole Life Has Been A Series Of “Waiting Games” And I’m Sure It Has Been The Same For A Lot Of You.

Wait.

Wait.

Wait.

It Seems Like All We Ever Do Is Wait.

I Hate Waiting.

I Sincerely Do.

I’m Good At It.

But, I Still Hate It.

I Just Don’t Know What To Think.

Or, What I Should Think?

Or Even, What’s Available To Me In Regard To Thinking?

The Whole Time I Was In The Emergency Room…

…The Whole Time I Was Thinking About Someone Else.

The Doctor, Or Nurse, Would Come In To Speak With Me…

…And All I Was Concerned About Was Him.

How He’d Feel.

My Life, As Far As I Was Concerned, Was On The Line…

…And He Was All I Thought About.

Him.

Of All Things…

…Him.

If The Almost “Stroke” I Had Would Have Finished Me, What Would He Think?

Would It Devastate Him?

Would It Momentarily Cripple Him?

Would He Even Give Two-Shits?

And I Thought About Loving Him.

How I’ve Kept Quiet.

How I’ve Left Him Alone Because I Knew Doing More Than That Would Upset Him.

Does That Make Me Pathetic?

Knowing I’ve Accepted My Role On The Sidelines?

I Don’t Want To.

I Really Don’t.

But It’s “THAT” Or “NOTHING”.

And Between The Two…

…Yeah…

…I’d Accept “THAT”.

ANYWAY…

…The Point Of This Was The MRI.

It’s Set.

It’s In The Computer.

We’re Ready.

I’m Hoping It’s Clean…

…Just The Same As I’m Hoping To Find Something.

Either Way…

…At Least I’ll Know SOMETHING.

To Me, That’s A Preference.

Good Or Bad, I Wanna Know What’s Up.

Ya Know?!

SURE YOU DO!!