I climbed the basement stairs late last night with a smile on my face.

We made it through another layer, relatively unscathed. And our strength is that much thicker and our truth is that much stronger not despite the pain that needed to be released but because of it. And with every layer of hate that is destroyed, another layer of truth replaces it.

Honesty, it seems, really is the best policy. And I’m still a bit gob smacked about the complete lack of honesty that was presented in the years that preceded me. But that’s another post for another day. But I have to say it, I just do…* I know you’re reading, Miss. You haven’t fooled me. And while I’m still so grateful for much of your incompetence, because it means that I gain everything and I get it all and it’s even more wonderful than you could ever have imagined…you still fucking suck. You really do. And you should be ashamed of yourself. *

There. I feel better now.

I woke this morning with a tired smile on my face and I curled up next to my black body pillow and shut my eyes tight and let my imagination run wild. One week and four days and that body pillow will be a person and I will wrap myself quite tightly around it. And I won’t let go, not for anything, for the full three and a half days. And I know that while I’m next to him, nothing can harm either of us. And I know that if I can make him see the truth from 528 miles away (twelve less than we originally calculated… stupid Google…) then I can certainly make him see and feel the light when I’m mere centimetres away.

And then I logged onto Facebook and read an e-mail that made my little pink heart soar.

And then I logged onto mybloggers and was flooded by a rush of e-mails from many of you and I realized that we all just need truth and someone to listen to us and someone to love us and someone to let us love them. And nothing is separate. Everything is connected. And so are all of us.

AJ…that candle works, Dude. Look at how we’ve come together, this community of strangers.

I made my way to the living room last night to wake Rock up. And I was nice about it because while the couch is really old and ugly, it is really comfortable and he’s been burning the candle at both ends and is getting over tired and yes, it’s his own doing, but still. I made my way into the bathroom and washed my face and brushed my teeth and released a torrent of pee from my aching bladder and then went back to the living room to wake Rock again.

Then I headed into the bedroom to put on my pajamas and as I did that, I stood in front of the mirror. I do this every night. It’s a sick ritual. I scrutinize my image before I go to bed and make notes about my body. I don’t recommend it.

As I stood there, that feeling of someone watching me trickled down my spine.

And there he stood. His hat was on this time.

“You did good, Kid.”

I smiled. “Thanks.”

“Better even than I could have.”

I cocked my head to the side and opened my mouth to speak, to give some kind of witty reply but he beat me to it,

“You’re smarter than you think you are. And you’re no accident. We called you, Kiddo. Don’t give up on him.”

I stared into the eyes of a person I could never have possibly known. He was dead before I was in kindergarten. I stared into the eyes of someone who knows me better than many.

“I won’t.”

And with that, he was gone. Off to make his rounds, I’m sure. Constantly traveling, never staying still, making up for lost time.

And I know he made a pit stop.