The Passcode

The passcoded entries listed here are for those that are deeply close to people in my life. Each code is set for each person, so that they get see something as simple as a rough copy of something to help edit, or so that they can give me their opinion on an idea. The contents are not for those that are simply prying obviously or cyberstalking me repeatedly trying to get more information than they should ever see or need to see for any reason.

Therefore the current passcode set is for only *one* person that I have chosen to extend some trust to.

The passcode is: 

Do you remember that first time that both of us locked eyes at a pool party 20 years ago? Do you remember that I’d been rocking back and forth on the back of a chair, and O strongly questioned this because he thought it could be something of another nature such as a learning disability ‘tick’ or kind of psychological comfort to my mind? Do you remember the location of this event? The exact place that O, H, A, and I all had met up for a summer pool party 🎉 that O dunked me so hard, I had been very anxious the rest of the day. Do you remember offering to give me a ride home that day, looking at me, from beyond myself- just rocking back and forth mindlessly not even thinking about it? But someone else took me home because they felt concerned for me. 

The passcode is the initials OF the name of the place and the year that it happened. This place is no longer named as it once had been, its name has changed long ago. But the building still exists, and it is still very similar. 

If you need to check on me, or you feel like you are concerned, you have been granted that for only you to make sure that I am really ok. This passcode is the primary code for this blog’s login, drafts, and trash items of the bad days. Yes, I get upset and I trash things sometimes because I’m having a bad day. It’s less destructive than other things. I’m sure that I’ve scared you concerned you, and sometimes, really bothered you too. I am sorry. Someone plotted to kill me, and I am still in trauma and struggling. Someone else actually did try to kill me, directly tried to kill me, I almost died- but that is long ago, in these times. The drunk abusive one I got in the ribs, so hard, that I broke them- and I ended it for good, not all on the same day but at least I did..then.

I don’t expect anyone to love my little novelettes of strange and deep thoughts. But please don’t be upset at me forever- for being afraid of people that tried to kill me. In retrospect it is all just the nature of manipulators and covert narcissists, trying to kill the love in all our hearts.

Don’t let it all kill your heart too… it’s not a just sacrifice for such depth, authenticity, and generosity.



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