Daydreams. Yesterdays. The dorm. 1st day. You told me you were proud. On your own. Stay safe. Don’t get caught in the moment. And don’t be afraid.
Yet I cried when you left here, so scared. I wanted to stand tall and proud, felt so small in this new town. Huge city. Brotherly love. Alone for the first time. I walked outside, said hello to those walking by, shifting eyes, clutching purses and bags. Walked into a Wawa. Said to myself, “I’ve arrived”.
I had so much to discover. So much to learn. How I miss you, my brother the selfless love you shared.
I am a Social Worker by day and an artist/writer by night. I use the written word in an attempt to make sense of the secret worlds and dysfunctional dynamics that lurk beneath the facades of our daily interactions. I am not sure how my writing styles are characterized, nor am I overly concerned about it. I am immensely enthusiastic about music and often connect better with songs than I do people. I also have an intense appreciation for quality wines and whiskies, frequently consuming them in excess. I like things that smell good and struggle to manage the symptoms of a life-long relationship with depression. So, why "grumpygorman"? Spend some time here and find out...
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