Hey, hey mama, why don’t you look ’round the bend?
There’s a black-eyed man who says he’s your friend.
He’s dark as the night, with cool eyes that see,
He’ll fix up your life—whatever you decree.
He’s got the lip, yeah, he’s got the sight;
He’s already sold your soul to the night.
Ride a tiger in the night,
Dance a slow song, fight the good fight.
Break a leg — the stage is set,
Never give up, and don’t ever forget.
Sipping her coffee and absently gazing out the window, she could hear the hum of life around her—the buzz of these wonderful, unique beings who were completely oblivious to her and her inner awakening.
I wrote this back in 2011, just a few days before my first major surgery. I was very sick at the time; Crohn's disease had ruined my guts to the point where my body had all but stopped accepting food. At 96 lbs (I'm 5'7", so you can imagine how serious it was), my body had started to "eat" itself, consuming the fat that's supposed to protect your bones and organs. My surgeon was considering putting off a conference because she wasn't sure I'd make it until she got back. Keep in mind that I was a lot younger, a lot more naive, and it was a whole different world back then. If I were to write the same piece again today, a few things would definitely be different.
I was reading a Reddit thread about a girl being relentlessly stalked online and over the phone by some weirdo and his entire family because she broke up with him. And wow, did that resonate. Crazy. Oh, have I had run-ins with the crazy. Thankfully, only a few were truly notable, but here they are: