So here we are again, June 11.

Its been 19 years since my last motorcycle ride. Its been that long since I stood on my own two feet normally, since I pissed and shat like I had for 31 years before that (not counting the time it took to be house broken), and a whole bunch of other stuff that I probably don't need to get into.

Wow. No matter how much I try to discount this, it still basically defines my life now. It certainly has been enough time to process the hurt, and sucessfully ignore the consequences. That is probably what is meant by learning to cope, but I'm never quite sure. I have had a bunch of fun since my injury, but it has always kind of had an asterik by the event in my mental history.

Forward into the past!

Peace