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This is what it could look like when one completely deconstructs a life as one knows it, and how to build from the ground up. Alternatively, this is a fresh look at an old story. The fine art of falling apart.

how about a cup of bipolar?

They found the body they were looking for about 200 yards from my house on Manitoulin Island. A young man of about 25 had gone missing during our first brutal blizzard of the season before Christmas. That same night, all of the electricity had blacked out because of the storm, no doubt making it even more difficult for the guy to find his way. Our houses are few and far in between in this very rural area where the deer outnumber the people 25 to 1.

But there was a 3 day melt about 2 weeks ago, causing search parties to resume. I heard his mother found him. Our community lowered the flags and burned a sacred fire for his spirit as a sign of respect for the family as he had died in our community.

I think of him when I drive by the spot where he was found. I wonder if my blackness was as dark as his before the snow and cold and dark became too much. Apparently not, as I'm still here, typing away on the keyboard in the middle of my bed.

Another doctor's appointment today. I never used to see the doctor much and now it seems since last summer, it's all I ever do. It seems the more I walk, the more roadblocks I encounter. I climb or slither over them (just barely) only to see another god damned hill. Life, I suppose is a series of hills.

It's the valleys you have to watch out for.

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