This is raw. No apology.

I hurt. I am in pain. And I created it all.

It has nothing to do with her. My projection has been ripped away exposing the unhealed flesh beneath. Even the wind blowing across it right now is agony.

And that to will pass. In time. Even now I am letting go.

I am not backing away this time. Not from the mother of all heartbreaks; the source from where every one in this life has come. I am taking you on, you lousy fucker. This time it is once and for all. Through this black hole and out into – into what I do not know. I cannot stay here. Every time I have got close before I hit black despair. I am ready for you this time. No I am not. And I will keep moving.

She never promised me anything. Well, there was a dance with communications that I rode through, being the resilient man. Dumb fuck. Water off me; yeah. Right. Never addressed it. Small wounds. Adding. All my own shit in the bank. A root of addiction.

I probably ought to thank her. But that is in danger of just being more of it.

I realized too late in the game, or just at the right time, how much I have been a fool to myself. I never wanted to hear it from anyone else, my iChing, Tarot cards, coins… Only an ear to my own fucking stuff. Stuck in addictive hope. Projecting out my magnificence onto someone who never asked to hold that for me; leaving myself with the absent shadow that I was unwilling to own.

No more. I have my balls back. I did not ask for them nicely; I fought for them as many hands held me back with everything they had.

I had more.

The shit/gold you left me with in my beginning. Your wounds passed lovingly from mother to son; unconsciously, without intention. With a life of their own. My bequeathed tendril of black creeping shit lying through everything. I have you by the scruff of the root. And I AM NOT FUCKING LETTING GO.

The motherlode.

One of us dies here. One of us ends.