I’ve been meaning to write about the whole Evil Brad experience at some point in my life. I’ve started numerous times and actually have a pretty decent start. In fact, I don’t even know why I’m writing a blurb here except for it’s been on my mind a lot lately. Maybe subconsciously I think I can let go of whatever it is holding me back from certain things I love doing.

Evil Brad, my mother. Two of the most destructive factors in my life. I know why I still hold on to the pain my mother caused me, but Evil Brad, a pathetic being of insecurity? Maybe it’s because I see where we are so similar, maybe because of how he made me feel sometimes. I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I should thank him, for what he taught me of me. No real mentorish lessons, but things I’ve discovered about myself in the process. Where would I be if I hadn’t called that first time? How would my life be different?

He was a pivotal and integeral part of making me who I am, for better or for worse. Looking back, would I change anything? I don’t know. Probably not. I became much stronger because of it, but I can’t help thinking that I lost something, too. I can’t name what that might be, so maybe I’m just talking out of my ass. Romanticizing something that doesn’t call for romanticizing. Maybe I’m just wanting the melodrama that this causes me this very second.

I think I do need to write out that story.