The Disturbed, Dead Boy

Daily Meditation 751–3/19/2024

Not long ago, there was a young man who was a bit macabre. Growing up, he had lost both parents — his father was found face up with a plum-purple face, having choked on his vomit. Alcohol addiction had finally taken his abusive, molesting soul from the Boy’s scarred life. Not long after, unsure how to handle (or not handle) the stress of the funeral, her now un-co-dependency, and feeding the four children, the Boy’s mother opted for the noose. The Boy found her hanging in the closet, equally plum-purple, neck stretched like a turkey, a shoddily knotted, paisley cravat (dad’s — from a wedding 20 years ago) tightly around her jawline.

And so, the Boy was left at 16 with his trio of younger siblings and their creepy uncle.

The Boy was disturbed.
In time, this disturbed Boy grew into a disturbed Man.

He had tried, but failed, to find substantive employment, having been let go by half a dozen varying HR departments for his…Odd behavior. Namely that this Man believed that he was, in fact, very much a dead person.

Naturally, coworkers (who were not frightened away), the scant bits of family (who stood to gain nothing from him), and his one friend (a ne'er-do-well rapscallion) all tried to teach him how it was not possible he was dead.