Diary of an Epiphany

Year 16:  She wanted my virginity.  Little did she know, year 13 was when it was tossed into the wind.  But it was my birthday.  Why would I give her a gift?

Year 8:  The nurses thought I was funny.  Maybe, they were humoring me.  Something about fear of the unknown that makes a boy feel alive.  Year 18 was no longer a dream.

Year 29:  The world is on fire.  Some people DO really want to watch it burn. 

Year 4:  Kind of young to be a bar fly but I sure could dance.  A tall Sarsparilla and I could tell tales about my father for hours.  We learn to lie young.  Well, I did.

Year 31:  I don't want to talk about it.

Year 13:  Hike up your skirt, little girl, and show your world to me.  And she did.

Year 37:  To be continued.

Year 18:  The next 13 years are worth talking about.  Sometimes, there's not enough words in the world.

Year 38:  Became ordained and then was excommunicated from the very friendship I was ordained for.  But he's doing well; assuming Facebook tells the true story.

Year 12:  Our house was our car.  Our car was our house.  But it was home.  For a day.  Things kids don't tell other kids but they know.  The cruelty of kids is awash in their kindness.  Just no one ever talks about THAT.

Year 39:  I don't talk about it anymore. 

Year 15:  God is so good.  Signed, Future Prodigal Son.

Year 17:  Her name was Karen.  She had so much potential.  I suppose she's not forgotten.

Year 40:  The World is on fire.  Some people DO want to watch it burn.  Heads buried in the sand.  Comfort found in a belief system that is proven to be right.

Year 10:  You, with the sad eyes, don't be discouraged.   And I wasn't.

Year 1:   Mischievous.  Probably won't grow out of it.

Year 41:  God is so good.  Signed, Epiphany.