11:15 01/01/2021

To my…

Valentina called me this morning. That’s the nicest thing anybody had done for me all year.

Get it?

Well, her call made me feel better. Truly. It meant maybe she was actual true in her concerns.

I’m too sick of always being the one to reach out first. So, this… It feels different. Folk reach out to me? What a strange notion.

Our carousing, with the brothers, didn’t go for long, last night. Or rather, I made my leave early. The at the first bell sort of early. It just wasn’t pleasing anymore. The cups. The dust. The matchsticks. The cheap selection of song. The demons. The night crawlers. The house. I knew I didn’t want to be there anymore. So, I left.

Ponyo is asking me to come see her at this moment. I’d love to. But I don’t think she understands the mindtoxins flowing through my blood right now. Those, and the dimness of my fire. I would love to be with her. Hope she lifts my spirits. I hope she loves big brother enough to come see him. That would be nice.

But I’m too poisoned to reach for anything, at the moment. I’m not even writing this very letter. I’m using my smartstone to craft this letter. This rant. This journal. That’s a first. So much for being a ‘writer’. I don’t know if I could even consider this ‘writing’. Writing should entail penmanship. It’s not exactly penmanship if these words are forged digitally.

Oh, what does it matter. This is no opus. This is a diary. Nothing of artistic merit. This is just an artist’s whine.

I hope someone gives me their time today. I need to steal some light. Last night drained too much of my own. Maybe that’s why I made leave early. It seems I’m more intune to my brightness now. A little extra would be nice today. A man needs it.

I hope this year treats you well, my darling.

A knight will be busy this harvest. Busy.

Love from yours truly

-Daniel Roy