In the waning hours of the day’s last light, I climb to a rocky perch and watch the colors unfold for the last time over Sedona. My boy Stretch is by my side, keeping me company.
He’s the most real connection I have these days.
I need to build my isolation bubble back up, stronger than ever before. Trying to make human connections only seems to hurt everyone involved. Sociopaths should not try and rekindle long lost friendships.
The long shadows of a dark night slowly creep across the landscape. I finish my beer and head back down the mountain.
I need nothing more than to pickle my brain of the daily drama and relish in the feeling of strained muscles and fuzzy thoughts of what my life means to me. A haunting symphony of black notes on the tortured soul.
