Aspiring Novelist

February 10, 2026

Does This Clown Taste a Little Funny To You?

Last night was a weird one for me. I spent most of my evening laying in bed “doom scrolling” details in the Epstein files. It got to a point that I started to physically feel fearful and repulsed, as if I had just watched some grotesque gore flick with a terrifying villain. Did that discourage me from continuing further? Oh no. I am a glutton for punishment and chaos.

At some point in my information consumption I had my interest piqued enough on the topic of Kuru that I started researching it.

Kuru is a disease that is caused by damaged proteins that have accumulated in the brain. It causes neurological issues such as: tremors, speech issues, dementia, muscle loss, and balance issues. All of these things I have witnessed in my mother, father, and husband until their untimely demise. Could this be the answer to why in the last 5 years I lost them all with very similar issues?

My mind spiraled out of control. In the abstract I can understand that this is just my brain trying to rationalize the abrupt disrupt and loss of my family. I get that. But… what if it’s my answer?

Well, the only problem with them having kuru is that it requires the consumption of human flesh, primarily the brain, that is tainted with… kuru. According to one of my MANY google searches, the last reported case was in 2004. This is a very rare and uncommon disease. In the history of the illness, it was primarily witnessed in a tribe that had a ritual of consuming their dead family members after their passing.

To my knowledge… My parents and husband were not cannibals. However, people do have their secrets. I didn’t know my husband was cheating on me, as I was actively cheating on him, until I caught him.

What this thought does do is lend credence to this fear that I have had over these last 5 years: that somehow/someway we were exposed to something that caused all of this.

When I would voice this to my husband, before he passed, he would immediately fire back, “Then why aren’t you showing signs?”

This is where I confess to the world that I am a chicken nugget and french fries man. I am the pickiest eater and won’t really venture out of my culinary comfort zone unless I am peer pressured into doing so. (Side note: I had a friend who had a serious peanut allergy tell me to try stuff at a buffet with a remark “it’s not going to kill you.” Shortly afterward we had to rush to the store to get Benadryl because the bitch didn’t bring her eppy pen.)

What if my family was given, without their knowledge or consent, human flesh to eat?

I have this really random memory of our trip to Lake Tahoe, where the wait staff watched us eat our meal, in an entirely empty restaurant. The reason it stuck out in my memory is because of how bizarre it was that they watched us… and how we were the only ones in the restaurant at dinner time.

All of these fears and assumptions are made worse by the very fact that we have only received half of the millions of files the DOJ possesses. And these are the files they were willing to submit. What’s in the other fucking half?

Now, do I really think that is the answer? No.

Is it just me trying to find meaning in their sudden deaths? Yes.

However… We cannot rule out this as a cause.

The only real certifiable answer I do have, that this is not the case, is that when my husband and I went to the Mayo Clinic for a second opinion to his ALS diagnosis, they tested him for everything while we were there. I imagine… that might have also included tests that would reveal signs of kuru. Like I said, it’s caused by deformed proteins. It’s not bacterial or viral.

(As I am writing this, I just had a random memory of a doctor asking him if he ate human flesh at one of his appointments where we all just laughed it off.)

In the big scheme of things, why does this even matter? They’ve already been taken from me. There is nothing that can be changed and having an “answer” does nothing but further fuel my confusion. Where would this have happened?! Why?

I need to just accept that life sometimes shops at Costco and we were just working through our bulk box of death.

January 27, 2026

Silence is Complicity

Every day I reach new levels of rage within me I never thought were possible. Watching the countless angles of Alex Pretti and Renee Goode’s murders, are what I refer to as my “9/11 moment.” If you’re confused by that statement, I am referring to the wave of enlistments that followed that day. So many of my own friends joined to fight against “terrorism” after watching people suffer unnecessary and undeserved violence at the hands of extremists. If there was an opposition to the modern day gestapo I would join in a heartbeat. I will not allow innocent Americans to be murdered because some asshole white supremacists think that brown people don’t belong in “their country.”

Then our “government” gets on television and outright LIES to us about who was murdered. I cannot abide liars and grifters and every single person in this government is precisely that. They are there to fulfill their own selfish desires. Especially the wannabe dictator. He is causing all of this chaos because he refuses to let the truth of his heinous crimes come to light from the proof within the Epstein Files.

If you’re one of the ignorant few who think he is innocent, then why the fuck would an innocent man not release the information to prove that very claim? Instead he has refused a COURT ORDER to release them. He is outright ignoring the very government he swore to protect. To uphold. And then the MAGAt pieces of shit get out there and demand law and order, I guess that only applies to people who don’t look and sound just like them.

Then on top of all of that, I have family members supporting this fucking pedophile. I don’t understand how I could come from a christian family that can abide this. This is against everything I was ever fucking taught. But racism and elitism runs deep.

For so long I ignored how they treated my own father who they felt was “beneath them.” He came from poverty. From a horrific childhood that could have been avoided if he had been adopted by a family who would have loved him. However my selfish, self-centered “grandmother” wouldn’t give up one of her meal tickets.

And that doesn’t speak to the brokenness of our system, but rather the broken person. And to outright call for the end of government aid because of “one bad person” is equivalent to me calling for the destruction of all Republicans because of the man who regularly shits himself on live television.

If you know someone who does not, AT THE VERY FUCKING LEAST, speak out against the execution, the MURDERS of Alex Pretti and Renee Goode they are complicit in the destruction of our democracy. We are watching our leaders allow these masked nazi’s into our communities to terrorize them. To destroy them. That is not America. At least not the one I was SOLD my entire life that was a melting pot, a place where we welcome all no matter their past. If that never even existed, I will be damned if I do not make it a reality. I want the America I was “sold.” We DESERVE that country.

December 23, 2025

Christmas “cheer”

Christmas is just a day away and I have less than zero spirit in me. I couldn’t even be bothered to decorate. I did do some but it all looks like shit, when you really examine the placement or motif. In the end it was Tony who did most, if not all, of the work. He was pulling double duty trying to bring “wonder for the season” while we both have none.

The more distance I leave between the death of my husband and the present, the more my heart aches for him and the life we once had. Every day I grow increasingly sad by his absence. I never realized how much of him was me. Or how our life together wasn’t perfect but it was ours. Now I just feel like a foreigner in a strange land.

Navigating all of the Christmas events without him or the new ones with a slight twist, just make my heart ache more than the moment before.

The other day I went to the boyfriends company holiday party and during it they played a song that once I left to drive home, I downloaded and had it on repeat the whole way. Every mile driven was soaked in tears. I could not stop myself from crying. It was ugly and visceral. The kind that if I were to ever see someone doing in real life or film I would immediately think they were faking it. It was that dramatic.

As the embarrassment of my actions shrouded over me, I looked around the car and asked myself “if you’re faking, who is this for?” No one was watching. No one even knew I was crying. It was just me. Well, me and the mental manifestation I have of my husband sitting in the passenger seat.

I would look insane if someone were to look at me through car windows. I turn and speak to him as if he’s there. Sometimes I hear a response in my head and other times I can see him making a face at me. All of it not real. In my head.

Grief is wild.

So much of my life exists only in my head. I sit and ponder everything, backward and forward in time. Then I hit the junctions where my thoughts skew into random topics of which I will dedicate entirely too much time ruminating. It’s a habit that has become too prevalent, that hours will pass by and I will find myself back in my family room as if no time has passed. It’s the nearest experience I will ever get to going to Narnia.

These mental adventures are, if not more, perilous than the imagined ones. Some times I wonder if this is how people go “insane.” They start traveling the narrow passages of their thoughts and wind up trapped in their own head.

Anyway… Merry Christmas. It is a trite sentiment but it never feels more tangible than when you’ve lost the ones you love: treasure the moments you have with them. They will one day be gone.

November 11, 2025

Who Am I?

It has come to my attention that I don’t know who I am anymore. Currently I feel like an amalgamation of all these different personalities, compounded into a chubby insecure body. One where every cell is filled with dread and paranoia. I don’t know who to trust or where to turn.

For the first time in my life I feel utterly vulnerable.

I imagine that is what caused my panic of “having a heart attack,” or what I told the E.R. was “heart issues.” I couldn’t bring myself to be THAT melodramatic and claim something “worse.” “No one ever walks calmly into the hospital having a heart attack.” A claim that maintained it’s sentiment. As it turned out, I am healthy-healthy. The doctor in the E.R. told me it was acid reflux and left it at that, giving me a new list of “don’t haves” before releasing me back into the human wild.

Today I return to my aimless wandering. Filled to the brim with insecurity. My thoughts all about how I have wronged everyone and that no one cares about me, even though that is untrue.

I keep looking back on this weekend and I worry I offended Papa Bill by not buying his and his partners ice creams. I had had intention to do so, but then the clerk ignored me and instead helped the hetero family that cut in line.

Okay. Cool. I wasn’t waiting longer than them. That’s fine.

In a knee jerk reaction I refused to give the store any of my business and left in a huff. Leaving my Papa Bill’s partner to pay for their own. It didn’t occur to me, until the drive home, that I was rude in not paying. They had paid for our breakfast.

As a result I am overcome with dread and I am once again spiraling.

On top of that I don’t know where I stand with Tony. He literally ignored my birthday and I don’t know if that’s one of his “sending a signal” things or if there is something else at play. Try as I might to muster up the courage to ask, I cannot. My biggest fear is having it confirmed. That would send me further into a tailspin. Tony is the one last link I have to my husband.

Another thought realized from this Palm Springs “weekend,” is that I really, really, REALLY miss my husband. His absence has left a giant hole in my life that I am unable to ignore any longer. He was the one who was sociable. The man could strike up a conversation with anyone about anything. He was the one to pull me out of my insecurity and make me personable.

It’s the silence that makes it so much more obvious. The visit and the entire ride to and from revealed that. Try as I might to help cover the gap, I could not get out of my own thoughts to fill it with something. Making his absence even worse where all I wanted to do was crumble into microscopic particles.

He was what brought out the best in me. Without him I sulk in silence, trapped in my head by my negative thoughts. And try as I might to escape them and return to normal I cannot.

It just feels like I am spiraling out of control. I want to isolate myself to find some kind of peace, but there is no way to do that. “Taking a break” from ‘life’ is not an option. Which means I am left with, “how do I find stability while free falling in a spin?”

Someone who knew who they are could, but who even am I? What am I to anyone? I’m not a son. I’m not a husband. I’m not an employee. I’m not even sane.