Pass.

A month flown into the fickle vagaries of time unreal.

I’m never “in the moment,” so I have very little to be anchored by. Everything is fleeting, even the lemon meringue pie I bought myself for the 41st marking of my natal day; I had no cake, and so I bought my own.

Bought myself books, a corset, toe socks. Everything I had and everyone with whom I spent that day were all I wanted. My favorite author made me cry with her tenderest regards. It was as close to ideal as I could possibly receive and wish for.

Save for my blood brother, the family I have ignores and continues to neglect me. The family I chose looked after me.

I will return the favors.

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Crop.

Dream: Satanic worship mixed with¬†Orange Is the New Black,¬†with Satan represented by a very detailed statue of Baphomet. We called him “Father.” We were given some kind of sacred wine to drink, then were later instructed to vomit, piss and shit into specific containers. I didn’t manage the first.

My brain can be an extremely strange place, indeed, even for the likes of me.