He has asked me to stop giving a shit. That is what blocking only me can only mean. And I can only do what I've always done in the face of that ask. Go to space. 

I realized I was in space again when we googled his name for an obit on Monday, something I used to do all the time but haven't done in years. I haven't had to assume that's the only way I would find out. But it is again now. 

I really hated that obit search. #trigger

"I love you never doubt that."

>something is missing here<

"If I die, the newspaper will let you know eventually."

I do not doubt the love, actually, as uhhm amorphous as it is. But see how the space between those two sentences is a wtf lacuna? What can any sane person do with that space? I tried filling it with a novel of options, vixen to cousin to fucking auntie, because what do I have but words? That's why I have to mean things. Try hard to find the right words. Why I spill so many, trying.

But the space between those two sentences is a void. And I spin off into it, as requested, every time, sending smoke signals back. All The Verities of Nothing, A Thorough Study of Emptinesses.

In space, words don't matter as much as grit.

her: well hello

me: it's her candle (cocking my head in Sunshine's direction)

her: she didn't even pray

me: she has no faith left, that seems like a you problem

her: and you're just all good?

me: yup. I'm grateful everybody is still breathing, that's all. everybody who is still breathing. say hi to my dad 😪 if that's allowed. 

her: your dad, wow

me: hahahaha I'll bet, it's almost scary to imagine him with wings now on top of everything else, I'm sure he's workin' it 

her: he stays awful close to you...and you know it, and you armed him

me: yes. and yes, I did. both my parents love me a LOT, even though they did it in batshit ways I am very grateful, but my dad....

her: loves you most, maybe loves you only 

me: yes 😪, and for my sister and mother, well (siiiiiiiigh), but it doesn't matter anymore, there's no point arguing with angels. my dad was an excellent hunter, I trusted him to make the shot if a shot needed to be made

her: that logic makes sense only in this one particular. generally, I see a lot of same same same, but not too often do I see a woman asking to be shot by her dead father for the sake of her lover who isn't her lover

me: yea hahahaha welp I feel like at this point I really just need to accept and lean in to the whatever - you can see everything so look behind my eyes, what do you see there?

her: I see only a candle flame 

me: yep.

Then I stood up and strode back through the church the same way I came in, stomping, the noise of my boots on marble ringing off the walls, all eyes watching me but I did.not.give.a.fuck, I liked the way it sounded and stomped harder, dragging Sunshine and her tears out of there, back to the living by her hair, stomping down the street with my skirt whipping around me in the cold, her squealing ok ok slow down... 

VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22). Today's quick fix only really works if it makes sense for tomorrow, too. You're looking ahead to make your future life sweeter. The long line of tomorrows that will be impacted by today's decision are worth heavier consideration. 

I dunno what to do with that. #playmeasong 

#playmeasonggame aint no love in oklahoma - luke combs welp, there ain't no love in Nebraska either brother