skimp on sleep as a kid, and you’re in for a world of problems as an adult.

The original intent for this blog was to be a lighthearted peek behind the curtain of whatever creative endeavor I’d be working on at any given time. It has now turned into a sort of memoir in the making; or a long, drawn out, overly complex suicide note of sorts.

It is important for me to leave this behind because… I would like to be understood. Not for vainglorious reasons, but I believe understanding would help ease the pain of those who have been fated to know me, or to know of me.

A few days ago, my roommate asked if I’d ever had a real pregnancy scare. I told him, I’ve had a full blown miscarriage. “that actually really sucks Sin, I’m so sorry.” I know his words were sincere because he’s unfortunately cursed with an honest face, the sort that’s very easy to read. The furrows in his brow and the pursing of his lips said this: “it makes more sense that they’re always so downcast now.”

It is the same exact face he makes when he “unlocks” a new piece of “sinclair lore”. When people understand you, they are either better to you, remove themselves from your life, or show you their own true faces. Any of these outcomes is fine for me.

Still, my primary concern and hope is that when the time comes and I have ended, whether by my own hand or some merciful twist of fate, you will all have an easier time understanding that it is not something to lament. I’ve spent the vast hyper-majority of my life in constant pain, I am not hopeful that it will get significantly better enough that I’d want to see decades more. My heart, physically

“shinzo, not kokoro, as mr.yohei taught us !!”

Yes, not figuratively- it has become weak. Even standing for 30 minutes proves to be a difficult task, I am short of breath only halfway through. I don’t have the energy to make things that are worthwhile, or up to my standards. I don’t even have the energy to carry on conversations that last more than 3 turns. Talking- why does talking drain me so much these days?

Ah, mon cœur, I’ve finally started to learn sign language like you wanted to. It’s far too late now but, I think I find some strange comfort in doing the things you wanted to do when you were around, when my life was good. I know the signs now for

I’m sorry.

Thank you.

I cant.

Excuse me.

and

You’re welcome.

They’re the one l use most often at work. By the third hour of my shifts, I am out of energy and unable to speak, this way the customers don’t think I’m rude, they pity me instead.

“𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖌𝖎𝖛𝖊 𝖇𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖎𝖕𝖘!”

This too^^

and hey I started reading this book I think you’d like. I thought I was getting a short sucre sweet sadboy book but it turns out it’s book one of six in what’s considered the longest novel in the world! now we have to finish it all because otherwise, I’ll bruise my own ego. It is actually sucre sweet, many lines remind me of you. Lines about being sad when something wonderful begins, because it can only herald what is to come next. Lines about how when the anaesthetic effect of habit wears off, I start to think and feel such melancholy things. Lines about-

Ah, I’ve trailed off again. It’s funny, every time I start to draft a note, I end up talking to, or about you instead. Before you, my goal was to make whatever note I left behind succinct and endlessly complex. Three lines at the most, packed with impossible sorrow and justification. Not so much these days. It seems I have been changed.

I think I will be understood by this point. Even things I haven’t said will be understood. Inferred I think, by any who take the time to read it all.

Yes, I think that should do.

post script

“Muriel, that was my name.”

Was it? I thought it started with an E, or something like that.

“No matter, it’s Muriel now.”

I see, well thank you Muriel. Please see to it that this particular tome and accounting of things is closed.

“Certainly.”

Muriel am I the real one?

“No.”

How can you know?

“It’s my job to keep account of everything that happens up here. You cannot possibly be the real one because you were born when she signed that paper and mailed it to the Massachusetts Probate and Family court. She is gone far away, never to be called back. The reigns are yours now. “

I see. Thank you Muriel, please turn the lights off on your way out.

“Of course sir.”

Muriel, how did I do?

“You did what you could sir, Hawaii was an excellent touch.”

Thank you Muriel.

“Of course, thank you as well.”

Suddenly I’m laying on the side of a hill in the alps. Wild flowers everywhere, the wind is gentle, the sun is setting.