11/19/2021
Bishop:
“Agonies are infinite, and sympathies just aren't”
I’m just going to put this out there. Maybe just as a start. Maybe this is all I will say about it at all.
Been a couple days since I left and returned and I’m still finding, sifting, sorting, processing, ignoring, highlighting, deleting and everything in regards to the trip I took and all the thoughts that occurred during my time on the rivers edge, near the lakes shores and over all the highways and side streets and dirt roads I took.
I have considered writing and putting all of it into some form of journal entries, or recaps, self-publish whatever it becomes for any others to if they’re interested. I kind of want to do it for myself, just to get it all out on the page and off my still shaking fingers. If it’s read, its read. Not my problem.
To see if there is any interest, or catharsis though:
Day 1:
The morning I left my father asked me, “what’s this trip about anyways?” I couldn’t answer him. Not to his face. I just looked down at the kitchen floor and said to my sneakers, “let me get on the road and I’ll call you and explain.”
I never did.
I’ve wanted to leave for a while. I’ve needed to leave for a while longer.
It’s been a hell of a couple years...
I am sure most of you who know me, and those that have been “following” me (whatever that means) knows ‘most’ of what’s gone on. And yes, for sure, there has been a LOT I have been keeping off the page, and even more still, that I have been keeping from those who are truly close to me.
But anyways, since getting my own diagnosis at the beginning of 2019, to my mom getting her diagnosis at the same start of the year, closing the business, losing clients who I thought were friends, and friends who just ended up being clients, to all those “usual financial troubles,” and more. Tons more. Mountains more. More than I even probably care to realize or recognize at any given moment because “Moonlit cedar bursts in pain...”
(Continued in comments)