a very irritated single here…

…and, i’d say that that is stating it nicely. i’m actually pretty shocked and sickened. for you see, both coffee and bagels are very special to me. they hold importance and meaning and are dear to my heart.

the other day a very well-meaning friend sent me a link and told me to try it and see if i liked it. needless to say, it was a link for a dating app. i’ve tried to explain to my friend that i’m on “relationship restriction,” but she doesn’t understand the sentiment.

i very hesitatingly agreed to try it and see what i thought. i didn’t want to, but gave in. so anyway, a little bit later this stupid, motherfucking link appeared in my email. i was instantly irritated by the ridiculous, sickening attempt to be cutesy, contrived name…

coffee meets bagel 😝😡😠

against my better judgement, i humored my friend and checked the ridiculous site out. i spent five minutes on the site and ascertained that i was supposed to be “coffee.” which only meant that potential women to date were supposed to be…you guessed it…”bagels.”

that realization was really disturbing to me for many reasons. i got pissed off and tried to withdraw myself from their system. i received a flashing red box that informed me that by leaving the site i could be, “walking away from ‘my special bagel’.”

and, that was the last bit of painful irony that i expected to be sitting alone with all that day…and, the next day, yesterday, and today. and no, it wasn’t the fact that i left that stupid site and those “faux bagels” behind. it’s something else altogether. something that i’m sorry for. something that brought me to this point.

coffee and bagels are special. they should be treated as such. “coffee meets bagel,” is a contrived manipulation. i love my friend, but good god…she lacked judgement on this one.


and, i feel it sometimes

or, i think that i feel it

it’s like a phantom organ

my mind knows

that it’s not there

but, left in it’s place

damaged nerve endings

and thick scar tissue

like to play games

with my senses

needling and burning

pulsating and throbbing

a prolonged and perpetual

dull toothache-like hurt

it’s long, long gone

and, yet somehow i manage

to keep going without it

but, i know that i’m

altogether lacking

a very vital part

i know that i am devoid




i’m just sitting here…

…i’m not even in the shade. why, you ask? because there is no shade in the god damn desert. there is just sun, hot fucking sun.

…there’s nothing lush and green here. no beautiful, majestic, mystical trees or forests. absolutely no chance of unicorns.

…it’s hot, motherfucking hot. did i mention that? the wind whips like hot licorice-scorching the hairs inside my nose.

…it bleeds quickly and easily, at will with the dryness and heat. my nostrils now have splits from inhaling dusty desert.

…what lives and thrives in the desert? cockroaches…shit tons of cockroaches. i’ve never lived with bugs before…disgusting!!

…i look at the people…lizards…dried up, leathery, wrinkled, brown, shriveled, old-even if young. no sunscreen, no sunglasses.

…colonies of humans, live like ants under the city. tunnels are home for thousands. you can smell them when the wind is right.

…no place for someone with “peaches and cream skin,” as my mother used to say. i feel myself baking, sizzling in the sun. 

…this place petrifies. it hardens you, like it or not. it spreads a dirty-gritty-oily crust over you, that gets in your dry-dry eyes.

…i feel dirty. bugs, people, dirt…i scrub and scrub and i just can’t feel it. i can’t feel clean. i just want to feel clean again.

…i want to be clean. i want to be understood. i want to be accepted as i am. i want to be free. i just want to go home.

i think a lot…

i think a lot about the things that i’ve done.

things that i didn’t think about at all.

things that i thought way too much about.

i think a lot about the things that i’ve chosen to believe.

giving lies, doubt, and malignancies room to grow in my mind.

giving truth, confidence, and compassion a skeptical eye and quick dismissal.

i think a lot about the things that i’ve ruined. 

things that i screwed myself out of.

things that cannot be replaced.

i think a lot about the things that i’ve changed.

things that have improved my health and strength. 

things that have improved my path to healing and wholeness.

i think a lot about the things that i’ve got planned for the future.

things that i am looking forward and ahead to.

things like endless possibilities, unlimited hope, and seagulls on the seashore.

the tribe has not spoken…

during the last couple of weeks, with my plan interrupted, my “football” being yanked away, and having watched, 13 reasons why…i decided that it might behoove me to add something extra, in addition to my therapy.

my “football” is gone. it’s hard for me to know when i will be able to borrow a car, so, an outside of the apartment, support group is out of the question, until after may 1. i scoured the internet for a highly recommended, safe, online support group.

after about two hours, i found a pretty wonderful site, that came highly recommended, was safe, and had a really nice and easy to use interface…it reminds me of what i would imagine a mental health, “facebook,” would look like.

they have online therapists available and suggestions for therapists, in your area. they have nine groups: addiction, anxiety, depression, hiv/aids, lgbtq, marriage and family, ocd, teen, and wellness. they have chat rooms and private chat capabilities. 

it is called, “*** ***** ******** ********.” it boasts 68,407 members. it is a really beautiful and interactive site. i really like it as far as design and content. whomever designed the site and came up with the wellness activities, had great ideas.

however, there is one HUGE, glaring problem…no one really has anything to say!! i have looked around in chat rooms, group pages, etc. i am a member of four groups: anxiety, depression, lgbtq, and wellness. 

the first thing that i did was introduce myself, in a paragraph that i posted on my page and all four groups. not one person replied. i did make two blog posts and one person commented on each post. i replied and “friended” them.

i decided to really go through and look at things…i began in the lgbtq group. what i found, broke my heart. i found people reaching out, putting themselves out there, and no comments/replies. some people asking repeatedly over several days.

i think what made things even more sad, were the number of children, under the age of 18, who were not in the teen group…because they were picked on for being gay or asking questions about their sexuality. 

i decided that it was inappropriate to “talk” to the kids, but what i did do was start replying to the adults that had been reaching out to anybody/everybody. suddenly, i began receiving friend requests and responses. 

these were people just like me, they just needed to know that someone cared, and that they were not alone. i found that in my attempt to comfort others, i myself was comforted. i found that in my attempt to be a friend, i received friends. 

i now have eight “new friends,” that i have something very much in common with. we have weathered our own personal “storms” together. whether or not, we ever even “speak” again…we will always know that we made it…

…the tribe has not spoken…


i could get used to this…

it’s quiet, like it’s never been before.

i love the dead of night…

or is it, the butt-crack of early morning?

i just know that it was 1:57…

and, now the clock says 2:03.

i realize that i’ve lost six minutes…

that i’m never going to get back again.

i can see the future clearly…

without the extraneous sound.

i know that it’s full of coffee…

and then perhaps, a deep sleep.

i know that i’m restless and ready to roam…

to go back to that place, my heart calls home.