Dear broken boys and broken girls,

I've been thinking about you. Because of the solidarity of the tribe. Whether self-inflicted or just victims. Of others' problems and personalities.

For some reason, and I haven't been able to parse it out, we carry it within. You know what I am saying. The pain of the parents. And their parents. And the historical imperative that says that we shall never be healed fully. But we can overcome. There are plenty of stories of these.

Fables of the Reconstruction. Buy the album. It might help convince you. That the healing can happen in increments. Ask around. Be careful where you tread though. Because part of you is broken, you can fall more easily than others. Because there are corrupted wounds and empty spaces, there is also a need to anesthetize. This is dangerous. And foolhardy to ignore.

The ground can still shift alarmingly underfoot, and the air can become chilled and inhospitable without warning. Think of it as an adventure. Think of it as something with a potential positive outcome. And more than anything, have hope that it will be fine someday. Maybe not normal, maybe not horribly happy, but just fine.

Because it's not always possible to turn back time and fix everything. I've tried. And failed so many times. It just happens. Ask around. Again be careful who you ask. Be sure to vet them carefully, as they might have a vested interest in your pain. Always be aware of their motives when you can. Paranoia does have its upside. In that paranoia doubles as self defense. And can be the right thing on occasion.

But it can also be the boundary to getting on with things. So there is a balance there, as well.

Well, boys and girls, I have gone on too long. And not made as much sense as I would like. But it's all done in good humor, and with the best of intentions. Carry on. Drink your milk. And eat your fruits and vegetables. Grow strong. Grow healthy. Grow up.

Love,
me.