Let me just state, for the record, that I do not believe in god. I respect anything that respects me and I leave it at that. I am profoundly spiritual in a non-god-believing-in way, and I acknowledge things like energy, consequence, eventuality, what have you.

198-whatever. My father beats the shit out of my mother. We have to go somewhere and hide for a few days. It was always the hotel on Stockton street. This happened often.

Today. I drop off the toys I collected from the toy drive last night. I take them to the Gateway Center. On Stockton street. The facility used to be a hotel. I did not connect that this was the same place that my mother would flee to when I was kid. More than a coincidence, for certain. I don’t know how to wrap my head around it at all.


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