It wasn’t about me

As I go through Charles’ song lyrics typing them up, I am struck once again at the level of creative genius and the sheer volume of music that expresses both pain and anger (there are very few published here). Pain from depression. Resentment for the way he was. Anger from having been sent away and put on layaway.

He knew he had a gift that came with a curse. He was so amazingly self aware, yet stubbornly incapable of changing direction to save himself. And yes, there are instances he wants to do that but falls into the … Read more... “It wasn’t about me”

Suicide. The coulda, woulda conversation in my head goes something like this

My coulda woulda shoulda is that last phone call I had with Charles. Here’s how it goes.

Alter Ego: You missed that last conversation, the one where he texted you, “Please pick up the f@#$%& phone, there is something I need to tell you.”

(my mind usually whines here)

Me: We had already been on the phone for two hours. He was shouting, incoherent and argumentative. I didn’t know where he was. I couldn’t understand him. I said, “I have to go. Bye, bye, I love you.” Then he called again and we talked again.

Alter Ego: But that third phone call, the one that Read more... “Suicide. The coulda, woulda conversation in my head goes something like this”