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Dear Kieth

***Author’s note: I’ve always been taken with the concept lots of Christians carry that when we die and are resurrected that we are “made perfect”. This idea is extended to both body and mind. I’m not buying. This assumes God will make a basic change to the emotional/mental DNA of a person, that he will remove who we are and replace it with something not native to our souls. I believe change comes from within. God won’t reach down and lobotomize us to get what he wants, he wants us to become that ourselves. Remember that old saying, “You can’t wrestle a pig and not get dirty”? In motorcycling we pick our own pigs. And sometimes we end up smelling like one.

Dear Keith,

I really do mean Dear. You are very, very dear to me but I don’t know how to fix what has happened to you. We used to have a good thing. I was happy, you were happy. We laughed. We smiled. Things were good. I love what we had.

But things have changed. You changed. You used to be kind and you trusted people. You’ve become defensive and mean and you expect the absolute worst out of people. The other day at dinner all you could do was grump about what the waiter was doing and worry about the next mistake he was going to make. You used to be so positive and forgiving. Now, as soon as the phone rings it’s “wonder what he wants, probably needs x or y” or “is that Brit? What does she want this time?”

I don’t know why you’ve changed. I’ve tried to figure out if it’s me and I don’t think it is. It started after you got that motorcycle. First it was all the “idiots” in cars. Every car was going to do something stupid and then you got paranoid and acted like people were out to get us. On the bike or in the car you started pointing out all the stupid and bad things people were doing. Or not. I can never see the things you do. Then it became all the stupid or bad that could happen. It’s like your soul got soaked in paranoia. You changed. From the inside out.

Where is the Keith who laughed? The Keith who was silly and sang silly made up songs and stuck French fries up his nose and talked like Chumley the Walrus? You were fun. You saw daylight not death, hope not hassles–you used to see goodness.

I miss you.

I love you.

Where have you gone and how do I get you back?

If it’s something I’ve done I can change. I’ve tried to be there for you but I don’t know what you want. You’re unhappy and bitter and mean. You didn’t used to be mean. Did I make you mean? I can change. I just can’t go the direction you’re going. It’s too dark and full of anger. Not everyone is out to get you. I want to help you. I talked to your Mother and she feels the same way too. It’s like you need an intervention for an addiction to fear and anger and doom and gloom.

We can’t go on like this, it’s too dark for me. I LOVE YOU. Let me help, the world isn’t that bad. You need to see the goodness in people. It breaks my heart to see you sink into some kind of defensive depression like this. Let me help. I need to help. I must help because I can’t keep going down this road with you. Where are you? I want you back.

All my love,
Miranda

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About Brent Crash Allen

I Forgot

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