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RIP - Comicality
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About this blog

The struggles of trying to write as your world collapses around you.

Entries in this blog

Background of the Bad Dog

Childlike Simplicity

Nights like tonight make me miss things Stupid things Things that no one else would miss. The sound of distant traffic through open windows Sitting on old shag carpet Parents sitting on a well worn yellow couch with brown and orange lines Grandpa showing off his and grandmas new recliners at the center of the room Pictures all the way back to their childhoods on all of the old oak furniture. The high pitched whine of a CRT tv finally getting decent signal
Background of the Bad Dog

Hungry

I must have been 6 when my mom asked me to knock on the door across the hall. Two marines answered. I dutifully repeated what my mom told me, that if they could spare a few bucks she would give them a home-cooked meal. I didn't understand the weight of what I said. I didn't understand then how life-changing their saying yes was. I didn't go to bed hungry again for 5 years. I was 15 when my school's football coach and SRO found drugs in my PE locker. You could tell it was my locker as one of
Kelevra

Kelevra in Background of the Bad Dog

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Background of the Bad Dog

Still Here, Still Fighting

Well, that sucked. Three years ago, I decided to return to school because my body couldn't pull 00 cables through underground conduit anymore. I was tired of my body coming home in pain and living off painkillers to function. Being a construction electrician was good money, but it took a toll on my body. My first significant improvement was moving from construction to maintenance, going from high to low voltage, and doing more controls instead of panels. That first semester of school coinci
Background of the Bad Dog

Memory

On August 24th of 2022, I went to what seemed to be a routine therapy appointment. I have complex PTSD stemming from, well, lots of places. This led to depression, anxiety, and an impossibly tricky minefield of things that would set me off for no reason. In fact, that same day, I had a panic attack, hearing metal bats hit softballs. This was new, as I had watched the summer of softball games in the employee league, and only on this day was it a problem.  My therapist decided to do some EMDR
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