Skinny neck.

Long head.

Small nose.

High cheekbones.

Wide eyelids.

Lopsided lips.

Lines on forehead.

Crow’s feet.

Crooked teeth.

Lines on neck.

Ears uneven.

So many reasons to hate what I see, but that’s a monster talking inside of me.

So he’s still there, isn’t he?

He’s still alive, sometimes.

But why?

I thought he died by suicide.

So maybe he’s a ghost, haunting me from the inside out?

I don’t know, something to think about.

It’s nice to be aware of this kind of self talk, because then I can understand the ins and outs of when I’m blocking myself off.

But the good news is, he’s not stuck to me, like he used to be.

Now I can see the difference between him and her.

To be honest, I find it quite interesting now that I’m in heaven on earth.

And I imagine a time in my life when I don’t have his perspective in me at all.

I imagine I will see myself as God, like no flaws at all.

I’ll be beautiful from the inside out.

So when she looks at me, all she sees is my perfectly shaped forehead, and the beautiful lines that happen due to the aging process.

And she’ll be blown away by the shape of my feet.

She would see my symmetry in a way that never occurred to me.

She would say, my god, you have beautiful eyes, my love.

And the shape of your nose is so cute.

And the shape of your lips, they look delicious.

And she would say, I love your neck.

The lines are so epic.

And she would say, I think the shape of your face is perfection.

And she would look at my chest, and she’d be flabbergasted by the magic piece cancer created.

She would love the scars from my mastectomy.

And she’d love what happened to the rest of me.

She would love what it did to my spine.

And she would say, wow, you’re so misaligned.

And that to her would be a good thing.

That to her would be art.

She would see me as art.

And she’d be my biggest fan because she would see my heart.

And every time she looked at me, she would say, My God, your glory is blinding.

That’s what I want.

I want to see what she sees only.

Which means we need to initiate stage three of my plan to become all that I am.

The reality is, just because we die…

Just because we kill ourselves…

Just because we desperately want to end the war, doesn’t mean it’s easy.

Changing your perspective takes time.

Takes attention to detail.

It requires strict discipline, a commitment to something you can’t see.

It means believing without a doubt that there is something better than what you’ve been led to believe.

Eventually your desires will match your beliefs, and that’s when you know.

When you know, you can’t un-know.

When you really feel you’re knowing.

When you really see who you really are.

You can’t let her go.

She becomes everything.

A life or death mission.

Him vs. Her.

Thus, here we are, on the verge of another death.

On the verge of letting go again.

On the verge of being reborn again.

When will I take my last breath?

When will I breathe again?

When will I finally be free of him?

Soon, my friend.

A storm is upon us.

Trust the plan.

Amen.