# orderedItems[].attachment[].name
An old computer and stereo equipment in front of a large window overlooking a forest.  "I log in, I alter the vibe, I leave"

# orderedItems[].content
I hate it when people ask how I'm doing. I'm too stubborn and too honest to lie, so usually my response is something along the lines of "living the dream" or "you know how it is". But the real answer is usually not something people want to hear. They're expecting a conversational response or a "good and you?" or something to move their day long. But I can't say how I'm feeling because I don't even have a good reason to be feeling like I do. So if I say I'm feeling shitty they all say "Why, what's wrong?" and then I have to make up an excuse for why I feel the way that I do, and the way that I have forever.

If I knew, way back then, in my younger days, what I know now, it probably wouldn't have changed very much, because often times it doesn't matter what you know, when what you feel is the real centerpiece. I'm an emotionally driven person; I ride on swells of fury and vigor, and I sink to the lows of envy and lethargy and complacency.

I think, if I could have seen the future, that most things would have gone exactly the way that they had now, I would have just seen the good things coming and maybe avoided a few blunders. There would be a lot of good things to look forward to. I'm not a millionaire, but I live very comfortably. I have a wife who is the light of my life, we have two solid incomes, working jobs that we enjoy. I have my health, time for my hobbies, interests to keep me engaged, and a social circle to share it all with. I own a home, I avoided a lot of pit falls, and I've made a lot of "the right moves" over the years. What more can a person ask for?

What I want is to feel good about myself. I want to take pride in my accomplishments, the way other people do, but I won't let me. What I want is to not slip into the dark places in my mind during the quiet times, when no one is around, and the timeline is slow, and the group chats are quiet. What I want is to believe that I'm a winner, with a proven track record, and not just the most fortunate man alive. But I don't know how to do that, and I don't even know if I could, even if I knew how. All of the things wrong with me are just me, being me, the way that I am. I've come to understand that its not the booze, or the stress, or the PTSD, or the anxiety, its just some part of me that's broken. Those are just symptoms, trying to hide the ugliness inside me. There's a part of me that will never be okay, and can never believe that things will be ever okay.

I live every day trying not to let that leak out and spill onto other people, not drag them down with me, not radiate the fear and the doubt. "Keep a stiff upper lip", that sort of thing. Some people get to see the vulnerable parts of me, even some of you, though as skilled as I am with words I struggle to explain certain things, because I don't always understand them myself. I paint a mask on every day for everyone else, but its just the sad clown, laughing on the outside, crying on the inside.

But, when its all said and done, and the day comes to a close, at least I have purpose. I have a reason to get up, and to keep trying, and to shoulder that weight. As long as that's true, I can cope with being me, and everything that entails.

# orderedItems[].source.content
I hate it when people ask how I'm doing.  I'm too stubborn and too honest to lie, so usually my response is something along the lines of "living the dream" or "you know how it is".  But the real answer is usually not something people want to hear.  They're expecting a conversational response or a "good and you?" or something to move their day long.  But I can't say how I'm feeling because I don't even have a good reason to be feeling like I do.  So if I say I'm feeling shitty they all say "Why, what's wrong?" and then I have to make up an excuse for why I feel the way that I do, and the way that I have forever.

If I knew, way back then, in my younger days, what I know now, it probably wouldn't have changed very much, because often times it doesn't matter what you know, when what you feel is the real centerpiece.  I'm an emotionally driven person; I ride on swells of fury and vigor, and I sink to the lows of envy and lethargy and complacency.

I think, if I could have seen the future, that most things would have gone exactly the way that they had now, I would have just seen the good things coming and maybe avoided a few blunders.  There would be a lot of good things to look forward to.  I'm not a millionaire, but I live very comfortably.  I have a wife who is the light of my life, we have two solid incomes, working jobs that we enjoy.  I have my health, time for my hobbies, interests to keep me engaged, and a social circle to share it all with.  I own a home, I avoided a lot of pit falls, and I've made a lot of "the right moves" over the years.  What more can a person ask for?

What I want is to feel good about myself.  I want to take pride in my accomplishments, the way other people do, but I won't let me.  What I want is to not slip into the dark places in my mind during the quiet times, when no one is around, and the timeline is slow, and the group chats are quiet.  What I want is to believe that I'm a winner, with a proven track record, and not just the most fortunate man alive.  But I don't know how to do that, and I don't even know if I could, even if I knew how.  All of the things wrong with me are just me, being me, the way that I am.  I've come to understand that its not the booze, or the stress, or the PTSD, or the anxiety, its just some part of me that's broken.  Those are just symptoms, trying to hide the ugliness inside me.  There's a part of me that will never be okay, and can never believe that things will be ever okay.

I live every day trying not to let that leak out and spill onto other people, not drag them down with me, not radiate the fear and the doubt.  "Keep a stiff upper lip", that sort of thing.  Some people get to see the vulnerable parts of me, even some of you, though as skilled as I am with words I struggle to explain certain things, because I don't always understand them myself.  I paint a mask on every day for everyone else, but its just the sad clown, laughing on the outside, crying on the inside.

But, when its all said and done, and the day comes to a close, at least I have purpose.  I have a reason to get up, and to keep trying, and to shoulder that weight.  As long as that's true, I can cope with being me, and everything that entails.

# orderedItems[].content
I'm a simple man. I don't wear jewelry or have outfits or generally care about what I'm wearing. I've got nobody to impress, and no reason to try to do so. I've always been ugly, and no coat of paint or window dressing is going to fix that. I work from home, like a privileged ass that I am, so I spend most days in sweats and t-shirts. I only really put on real pants to go drive in to town a couple of times a week for provisions or appointments.

But whenever I do, and I'm going through my checklist of things I don't want to forget, I never fail to slip on my ring. Its a plain, simple, thick, heavy band, made of tungsten carbide and ordered from an online seller back when that was something reasonable to do. It raps against counter tops while I wait in a store, or against the side of the car when a particularly good song comes on. It gleams in the sunlight, soaks up the cold, and always makes me a little nervous any time I'm working on the car or washing dishes. Engraved on the inside is a single word: "Forever"

This heavy tungsten band is a weight on my left hand, but its one that I'm joyful to bear. It signifies devotion, fidelity, and dedication. It reminds me of the bad times, and the good times in equal measure. I've worn it while sitting at a computer, driving across the country, cleaning flood debris, cooking meals, climbing mountains, turning a wrench, clutching a toilet, signing paperwork, mourning, celebrating, making love, clenching fists, and sobbing into my hands.

For 18 years it has clung to my hand, through all of life's happenings. It has accompanied me through natural disasters, mental breakdowns, drama, life and death, sickness and health, fortune and failure. It endures, like my love for her, and like that love, it still shines as brightly as ever. "Love is patient. Love is kind. Love is not envious, or jealous. Love does not brag and is not arrogant. It does not seek its own, it is not provoked, it does not remember wrongs that have been suffered. It rejoices in the truth, for love withstands all things, and never fails."

Dear, my love for you is deathless. It binds me with mighty cables, that not even Omnipotence can break. When I think of you, the memories of all the blissful moments we have spent together come crowding over me, and I feel most deeply grateful that I have enjoyed them for so long. I know that I have but few claims upon this world, but you I count most precious among them, greater than all of the possessions and wealth and luxury man can afford. Never forget how much I love you, nor that when my last breath escapes me it will be whispering your name. Forgive me my many faults, and the pains I have caused you. How thoughtless and foolish I have often been. How gladly I would wash away every trace of unhappiness with my own tears, and how fortunate I am to receive forgiveness and understanding.

When I see you in the morning, with that dry sleep still in your eyes, I remember all the laughter, and the tears we shared last night. And as we lie here, just two shadows in the light before the Dawn, the sweetest thing I've ever known, is loving you.

# orderedItems[].source.content
I'm a simple man.  I don't wear jewelry or have outfits or generally care about what I'm wearing.  I've got nobody to impress, and no reason to try to do so.  I've always been ugly, and no coat of paint or window dressing is going to fix that.  I work from home, like a privileged ass that I am, so I spend most days in sweats and t-shirts.  I only really put on real pants to go drive in to town a couple of times a week for provisions or appointments.

But whenever I do, and I'm going through my checklist of things I don't want to forget, I never fail to slip on my ring.  Its a plain, simple, thick, heavy band, made of tungsten carbide and ordered from an online seller back when that was something reasonable to do.  It raps against counter tops while I wait in a store, or against the side of the car when a particularly good song comes on.  It gleams in the sunlight, soaks up the cold, and always makes me a little nervous any time I'm working on the car or washing dishes.  Engraved on the inside is a single word: "Forever"

This heavy tungsten band is a weight on my left hand, but its one that I'm joyful to bear.  It signifies devotion, fidelity, and dedication.  It reminds me of the bad times, and the good times in equal measure.  I've worn it while sitting at a computer, driving across the country, cleaning flood debris, cooking meals, climbing mountains, turning a wrench, clutching a toilet, signing paperwork, mourning, celebrating, making love, clenching fists, and sobbing into my hands.

For 18 years it has clung to my hand, through all of life's happenings.  It has accompanied me through natural disasters, mental breakdowns, drama, life and death, sickness and health, fortune and failure.  It endures, like my love for her, and like that love, it still shines as brightly as ever.  "Love is patient.  Love is kind.  Love is not envious, or jealous.  Love does not brag and is not arrogant.  It does not seek its own, it is not provoked, it does not remember wrongs that have been suffered.  It rejoices in the truth, for love withstands all things, and never fails."

Dear, my love for you is deathless.  It binds me with mighty cables, that not even Omnipotence can break.  When I think of you, the memories of all the blissful moments we have spent together come crowding over me, and I feel most deeply grateful that I have enjoyed them for so long.  I know that I have but few claims upon this world, but you I count most precious among them, greater than all of the possessions and wealth and luxury man can afford.  Never forget how much I love you, nor that when my last breath escapes me it will be whispering your name.  Forgive me my many faults, and the pains I have caused you.  How thoughtless and foolish I have often been.  How gladly I would wash away every trace of unhappiness with my own tears, and how fortunate I am to receive forgiveness and understanding.

When I see you in the morning, with that dry sleep still in your eyes, I remember all the laughter, and the tears we shared last night.  And as we lie here, just two shadows in the light before the Dawn, the sweetest thing I've ever known, is loving you.

# orderedItems[].content
There, in that proud, cock-sure glass vessel. Brown, or clear, depending on the weather. A small sampling of the great flowing river of pain, sold for fair market price. Wine, beer, alcohol, love itself.

There's a satisfying pop as the cork jumps loose, or a scintillating crackle as the seal is broken beneath your grip. The vapor hits you, and the hair on the back of your neck rises up like a firing squad standing at attention.

The bottle touches your lips, and a familiar, comforting sting cascades into your mouth. Your tongue dances in the inferno. You start to salivate, whether from desire or need. You pause momentarily to let your flesh marinate in the flavor. You've been here before, and now, again. Welcome back. You're home now.

When you swallow, a golden ray of warm sunshine caresses your throat. It fills your nostrils with light. Your stomach melts in pleasure. So does your mind, all of the troubles now dissolving into a sloshing vat of relief. As you look around, the world continues to exist as it did before, only now gentle flames lap at its edges as though it were a photograph, burning. You're you again.

From the void we came, and to the void we must return.

# orderedItems[].source.content
There, in that proud, cock-sure glass vessel.  Brown, or clear, depending on the weather.  A small sampling of the great flowing river of pain, sold for fair market price.  Wine, beer, alcohol, love itself.

There's a satisfying pop as the cork jumps loose, or a scintillating crackle as the seal is broken beneath your grip.  The vapor hits you, and the hair on the back of your neck rises up like a firing squad standing at attention.

The bottle touches your lips, and a familiar, comforting sting cascades into your mouth.  Your tongue dances in the inferno.  You start to salivate, whether from desire or need.  You pause momentarily to let your flesh marinate in the flavor.  You've been here before, and now, again.  Welcome back.  You're home now.

When you swallow, a golden ray of warm sunshine caresses your throat.  It fills your nostrils with light.  Your stomach melts in pleasure.  So does your mind, all of the troubles now dissolving into a sloshing vat of relief.  As you look around, the world continues to exist as it did before, only now gentle flames lap at its edges as though it were a photograph, burning.  You're you again.

From the void we came, and to the void we must return.

# orderedItems[].content
Hey, I see you. Looking down into the abyss. I've been down to the bottom there, where you're looking. Rock bottom ain't so bad. If you need a rock in your life, that is. Its steady, but it isn't comfortable. I don't recommend hanging out down there for long. You'll get numbed to the pain but it will scar you twice as bad. That said, it is a place for a person to catch their breath. Nobody notices when you get there, nor when you leave. They only see the approach, and if you're lucky they'll reach out for you.

Maybe consider this to be that outreached hand.

I can't fix that leak that's sprung in your soul. I can't heal those wounds, or erase those memories, or change those minds, or un-speak those words. I'm just another ball of light and sound on the internet. But there's a person there inside the ball, and that person cares. Even if you don't care about yourself and how things turn out, I do. That probably sounds pithy, worthless, and vapid. But its true. "Each man's death diminishes me, For I am involved in mankind. Send not to know for whom the bell tolls: it tolls for me."

Its a peaceful thought, isn't it? To no longer exist? To no longer experience pain, or relive regrets, or pave over the mistakes, or make them someone else's problem. But that's just the thing; pain is like energy. It isn't created or destroyed, it just gets transformed and pushed on to someone else instead.

I'm sorry you wound up with yours. Really. It breaks my heart that someone or some thing left you with all of that, and I wish it hadn't happened to that person beforehand either. I'm not ashamed to say I sob, bitter tears, when I think about what people have done to other people, and how they have transferred their pain to other people, intentionally or otherwise.

My body has seen forty seven years of life, but my mind and soul has seen and heard and read of a thousand years of suffering. I've done my own, and I've taken some on for other people, voluntarily, as we all do, for people that we love and care for. There is a weight, a boulder, that is bearing down on us. It is only because of strong people shouldering that weight, more than their share, that we are not all crushed beneath it. Other people have held weight for me, and I hold some for other people as well. Over time, I've grown stronger myself, able to hold more weight, bear more punishment, spare a few more people of their burden.

So, lift if you can! Sometimes that is all that we can do. If you are comfortable there, help your neighbor so that they can do the same. If you can't, cry out for help! Reach for your neighbor! Grasp for that hand, and look for the helpers. We're all in this together, and we all lift together. If we collectively fail, that boulder isn't going to discriminate between who lifted and helped, and who did not.

You don't have to listen to me, though. I'm just a drop in the ocean, another face in the crowd. But know this: I care. I am invested in you, me, and everyone as a whole. I hope you hear these words in your idle dreams, and I hope you learn from my mistakes. I hope that this helps you to find hope, and in that hope you are able to help to share that hope with others.

I hope that there is a tomorrow for each of us, individually, and I hope that there is a tomorrow for all of us as a whole.

# orderedItems[].source.content
Hey, I see you.  Looking down into the abyss.  I've been down to the bottom there, where you're looking.  Rock bottom ain't so bad.  If you need a rock in your life, that is.  Its steady, but it isn't comfortable.  I don't recommend hanging out down there for long.  You'll get numbed to the pain but it will scar you twice as bad.  That said, it is a place for a person to catch their breath.  Nobody notices when you get there, nor when you leave.  They only see the approach, and if you're lucky they'll reach out for you.

Maybe consider this to be that outreached hand.

I can't fix that leak that's sprung in your soul.  I can't heal those wounds, or erase those memories, or change those minds, or un-speak those words.  I'm just another ball of light and sound on the internet.  But there's a person there inside the ball, and that person cares.  Even if you don't care about yourself and how things turn out, I do.  That probably sounds pithy, worthless, and vapid.  But its true.  "Each man's death diminishes me, For I am involved in mankind.  Send not to know for whom the bell tolls: it tolls for me."

Its a peaceful thought, isn't it?  To no longer exist?  To no longer experience pain, or relive regrets, or pave over the mistakes, or make them someone else's problem.  But that's just the thing; pain is like energy.  It isn't created or destroyed, it just gets transformed and pushed on to someone else instead.  

I'm sorry you wound up with yours.  Really.  It breaks my heart that someone or some thing left you with all of that, and I wish it hadn't happened to that person beforehand either.  I'm not ashamed to say I sob, bitter tears, when I think about what people have done to other people, and how they have transferred their pain to other people, intentionally or otherwise.

My body has seen forty seven years of life, but my mind and soul has seen and heard and read of a thousand years of suffering.  I've done my own, and I've taken some on for other people, voluntarily, as we all do, for people that we love and care for.  There is a weight, a boulder, that is bearing down on us.  It is only because of strong people shouldering that weight, more than their share, that we are not all crushed beneath it.  Other people have held weight for me, and I hold some for other people as well.  Over time, I've grown stronger myself, able to hold more weight, bear more punishment, spare a few more people of their burden.

So, lift if you can!  Sometimes that is all that we can do.  If you are comfortable there, help your neighbor so that they can do the same.  If you can't, cry out for help!  Reach for your neighbor!  Grasp for that hand, and look for the helpers.  We're all in this together, and we all lift together.  If we collectively fail, that boulder isn't going to discriminate between who lifted and helped, and who did not.

You don't have to listen to me, though.  I'm just a drop in the ocean, another face in the crowd.  But know this: I care.  I am invested in you, me, and everyone as a whole.  I hope you hear these words in your idle dreams, and I hope you learn from my mistakes.  I hope that this helps you to find hope, and in that hope you are able to help to share that hope with others.

I hope that there is a tomorrow for each of us, individually, and I hope that there is a tomorrow for all of us as a whole.

# orderedItems[].summary
"If you feel as though you are being crushed, tell me and I will help to lift that weight."

# orderedItems[].content
The goal of most people's lives is to find Your People.

For everyone, there is a group of people that you belong to. It might be a big group, or a small one. It might be online or offline or both or neither. It might be fractured into pieces, where there are little cells, and each cell is aware of each other but there is something keeping them separated. But they're there. Here and there.

When you find Your People, you recognize it, almost immediately. There's a common humor, or a common reference, or a tie that binds. There is something that is an indicator, not a reason itself, why you belong there. They might be your age, or 20 years younger. They might be from a different part of the world with a totally different learned experience. You may have nothing in common except love and understanding, but you have some commonality, or some factor, that binds you.

My People? They are rough. Gruff, maybe. Tired. World-weary. Pedantic. Try-hards. But they are patient, and helpful. Stern but caring. Laughing at dirty jokes, but first in line to speak up for others. Grateful, but ambitious. Self-aware, and responsible, but forgiving and self-sacrificing. The ones who get my references, who know a joke from a joking-but-not-really, who know when to smack you down and when to smile at you, when to speak up and when to go "mood". They are Me.

My People, I guard them like a bulldog. I hurl myself before the onrushing train of reality to keep them safe. I will be Your roof, your shelter from the storm, Your footing against the wind. And I'll mend for You those hopes that have been torn, because I know that sensation too well. I shoulder the responsibility of Your actions as well as mine, to lift us all up together. You would do the same for Me, and together We are Us.

Maybe we triumph. Maybe we die hopelessly. Maybe we live quietly to old age, laughing at the halcyon days. Maybe we part ways and never speak again. But You will always be part of We. And I will always think of you, and laugh, and smile.

I hope that you find Your People someday, and I hope that I am one of Them.

# orderedItems[].source.content
The goal of most people's lives is to find Your People.

For everyone, there is a group of people that you belong to.  It might be a big group, or a small one.  It might be online or offline or both or neither.  It might be fractured into pieces, where there are little cells, and each cell is aware of each other but there is something keeping them separated.  But they're there.  Here and there.

When you find Your People, you recognize it, almost immediately.  There's a common humor, or a common reference, or a tie that binds.  There is something that is an indicator, not a reason itself, why you belong there.  They might be your age, or 20 years younger.  They might be from a different part of the world with a totally different learned experience.  You may have nothing in common except love and understanding, but you have some commonality, or some factor, that binds you.

My People?  They are rough.  Gruff, maybe.  Tired.  World-weary.  Pedantic.  Try-hards.  But they are patient, and helpful.  Stern but caring.  Laughing at dirty jokes, but first in line to speak up for others.  Grateful, but ambitious.  Self-aware, and responsible, but forgiving and self-sacrificing.  The ones who get my references, who know a joke from a joking-but-not-really, who know when to smack you down and when to smile at you, when to speak up and when to go "mood".  They are Me.

My People, I guard them like a bulldog.  I hurl myself before the onrushing train of reality to keep them safe.  I will be Your roof, your shelter from the storm, Your footing against the wind.  And I'll mend for You those hopes that have been torn, because I know that sensation too well.  I shoulder the responsibility of Your actions as well as mine, to lift us all up together.  You would do the same for Me, and together We are Us.

Maybe we triumph.  Maybe we die hopelessly.  Maybe we live quietly to old age, laughing at the halcyon days.  Maybe we part ways and never speak again.  But You will always be part of We.  And I will always think of you, and laugh, and smile.

I hope that you find Your People someday, and I hope that I am one of Them.