Everyone is looking for an excuse to not bleed. Not do it, not say it, not write it. It’s easier that way, they think. But is it? Is it really?

People don’t like being vulnerable, but who likes to expose a wound? Worse, having life pour alcohol all over it? Nobody. Find me the person who says, “I do,” and I’ll show you a liar. It’s just not logical. Yet without the alcohol, without the burn, you risk infection. Is that what you want?

Something that courses through your blood, turning everything from red to black…

I love Pepe’s pizza.

The problem isn’t that I love Pepe’s pizza. It’s that I know Pepe’s pizza is possible.

There are two kinds of possibilities: one we can imagine, and one we know is real. The former is something we’ve seen or heard about. The latter is something we’ve had firsthand experience with. I’ll admit, deciphering between the two is more and more difficult with social media, streaming, and the introduction of more imagined possibilities…

Everyone does something for the first time.

The relationship. The business. The creative venture. The single wants to commit. The employee wants to start a business. The attorney wants to be a comedian. Will they succeed or fail? I don’t know. What are the metrics, anyway? Are they your metrics, their metrics, or metrics made up by someone else at some random point in history?

In any case, the best way to guess what someone will do next is…

Last night, it dawned on me.

Cloudy, dazed, and tired, I heard light music playing in the background. It was too faint to peg the song, but with one open eye, I saw a long, naked leg splayed out to the left. I touched it and instantly felt a sensation tickle my nervous system. Shit, that’s my leg.

Heat does that, you know? Makes one leg hang off the bed, dying for air, needing relief. It screams to the rest of your body, “Get me the hell outta here!” It’s that type of warmth that made me realize another body was next to me…

Yesterday, I needed some advice.

This is a predicament we all seem to find ourselves in as we scour our lives for answers. Where should I turn? Who should I go to? These decisions are important, damnit!

Herein lies the problem: people are pretty bad at giving advice. Most people aren’t listening, and even fewer actually care. Nobody should be expected to listen or obligated to care. The world is busy. Who really wants to hear my problems? That’s what shrinks are for.

Family and friends, you say?…