I still think of you, because I’ve got no choice. You’re not just a figment of my imagination. You’re not just a daydream. You’re not just a memory. You’re part of my being. My soul. My entire being. I can’t let go, nor do I know that I want to…

I listened to a podcast episode today called “Happily Depressed”. It resonated with me so deeply, this concept of being so depressed and so fine with it. I’m high. Sitting in the sunroom. Crying into Camilla, thinking how fucking happy I am in Sioux Falls. Deeply, tremendously happy. I’m thinking…

The gales of November are icy and sharp. Digging their cold, dead fingertips into my flesh, bone, and soul. Leaving waves of frozen emotional debris in their path, these gales strike me down again year after year. Blowing October leaves off of trees, snow on my neck, and darkness into…

I remember the first time we met, Joe. Brunch at Wiley’s on a Sunday afternoon. Spencer and I both agreed to going out for one drink, saying, “I don’t really feel like being out all day” to each other thinking that we would hold each other accountable, knowing we probably…

I’m standing right next to you. I know you see me. You can hear me. We’ve spoken hundreds of times. But never about anything real or meaningful. I don’t feel like you’ve ever given me the chance to get to know you, and honestly, I know you don’t want to…

I want to tell my story. I need to tell my story. I feel the words being forced out of me like the retching of hangover after a night of heavy drinking. With months of silence under my belt and the inability shape thought into word, I’m telling my story. …

What hurts the most is that I didn’t know Alex. I never got the pleasure of knowing the good in his life. I didn’t know the hurt he carried either. I didn’t know anything about him, really. The only memories I have of him are those of that fateful day. …

One year later and I don’t even recognize myself. That person, that version of me feels so far away. I’m just a shell of the man that I was back then. And yet, I am so so so much more than that too. In fact, some days, I feel like…

No matter how much education, training, or preparation you receive, you can never fully be ready to handle responding to a suicide. You can never fully prepare to administer first aid. You can never be ready to see a lifeless body, on the ground, with a bullet hole in it’s…