After posting about my child molestation, I received messages of support from around the world. Honestly, I didn’t need text-based support as much as I needed to pause, reflect and process. I was ready and starting to share all of me, unfiltered, with one being. However, with that came a weight of a reality I had yet to share with myself. The fictions and non-fictions I shared fractured the foundation of a relationship that had already changed my life in ways I had yet to accept. Afterwards, when I looked in the mirror, I finally saw what was once missing from the whole of me.
The bulk of my experiences in life have been shared compartmentally. Whether this was purposeful or happenstance will become more evident as I start to connect the dots via “33 degrees.” I write these words to myself as the final journal entries from a traveler, serial-searcher and story-teller fatigued from so many lives, lies and loves.
There was a time that my life was endangered… and I cared. If my pen continues to write with the explicit candor of the past 24 hours, and the statute of limitations that govern paper slaves has not passed, I’m sure my life will be threatened once again. This time I don’t care.
The murders witnessed, the bullets that missed, the banks that were robbed, the abortion, the child molestations, the tortures endured, the drug operations, the hacking exploits and the acts of treason are all on the table.
These seemingly dark moments are pale in comparison to the families that are closer, friends that are reunited, homeless that are housed, the hungry that are fed, the diets that have changed, the sick that are healed, the weak that are stronger, the muted voices that sing, the idle fingers that now play instruments, the writers inspired to write, the dormant creatives ignited to inspire and the victims of abuse no longer caged by past atrocities.
The music and art items readily available online, when reviewed in their entirety, already create an outline of who I am. Many of my names used are referenced in past interviews ( the most recent being in TheHype Magazine ). Now it’s time to add color, depth and dimensions to the picture.
Social media was never a real world for me…and it still isn’t. However, as an old soul in a quickly changing landscape of shortened attention spans and rapidly changing mediums of communication, I will use social media as my last journal pages – Dimitri & DaWitch will have what hard copies remain.