Old Demons & Cupcakes

I’m entertaining old demons today. They’ve come to visit and I can’t manage to send them away. When they visit they always stir up old shit based on some new hurt.

A rejection
A slight
A fear
A rough word
A meanness
A harsh touch

And here they come to ask the old questions and ring old bells.

I’m not seeking sympathy or advice or wisdom or platitudes. What I need are traveling companions. Those who will put on their waders and go trudging into the mud with me. The kinds of waders worn by pastors when they baptize. But this will invariably be a different kind of baptism.

If you are willing, come on along.

If you are not, shut up.

Don’t add to the rising swell of the voices of the demons. Because if you won’t travel with me, you don’t get a vote…or a audience with me…or a momentary glance. Right now I’m plodding through quicksand on the first leg of the journey. You’ll understand that I’ve got no time for your voice from the shore…no matter how helpful you think you are.

Shut Up, Please, and Thank You.

If you are traveling with me…here’s my hand in case it gets dark. I’ve a flask full of whiskey, some water and bread, and I hear there are cupcakes at the end of the journey. And not just ANY cupcakes. These are full of gluten and butter and all the stuff we all swore off years ago. And they are DELICIOUS.

I hear demons never get any….hmmm…maybe that’s why they are demons.

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