It’s clear God is trying to tell me something. Last night I ran into M.A. again, this time at my dentist’s office. Twice in two nights, after five years of no contact.

“I’ve been thinking about it all day,” he said, “seeing you last night was exactly what I needed.”

Sigh. I feel like such a fuckwad. First off, gentle reader, I need to change his nickname. M.A. is unwarranted, and all it does is illustrate my stupidity. Granted, it’s stupidity from the past, but even mentioning it in my post yesterday left me with a disturbing case of buyer’s remorse (a feeling I experience more often than you might guess.)

So I’m presented with an opportunity for self-growth. Vomit all you want, the writing’s on the wall. I must face my insecurities and throw them off a cliff. Or let them go, or whatever euphemism for throttling their bratty little necks you prefer.

There’s a common sentiment expressed in AA meetings that it is through helping others we lose our worries. And I need to get way lost.