Friday, December 13, 2019*
How did the number 13 become my lucky number? And because I’ll be 33 years old this week, I pray Jesus takes my wheel. Three days prior to my 30th birthday, I crashed my BMW driving in the ice and snow.
The following morning, my father passed. Jesus took his wheel. Maybe I tried too hard steering mines.
In 2016, there were 13 months—don’t believe me? Well, neither a reader nor myself can prove this. Don’t show me the Pope’s calendar; numbers are why we’re here.
I give up in well-being because it’s often not my decision. Jesus takes my wheel.
There’s a bright and beautiful moon to my right. No one resides up there but I meditated looking straight at heaven’s night lamp.
Who or what drove you here? Me? I have four uncles and nine aunts. My grandma’ was the first beast I met. She birthed 13 of them. One passed shortly after birth. Jesus had her wheel all along.
Did you do this to the moon, Grandma’? It’s still shining on me! Jesus must have your wheel.
In high school, kids told me I was random. It’s what’s writing this. Jesus must have my wheel…
And about Taylor Swift… I wrote my first suicidal letters on her 20th birthday. A lot has happened in ten years, including becoming happy.
I don’t take it lightly, but when you come so far you learn to laugh at the ways you once thought. I wrote, “I hate my life…,” then noted, “Happy Birthday T-Swift!”
I’m fully aware how different I am. I think so much that I wrote my thoughts in a book and self-published it on Amazon.
After turning 13, I wanted to wear no. 13 in the NBA. That was 20 years ago from today.
Half of 20 is 10, and half of 10 is 5, which is how many days away the 13th is from the 18th—my birthday!
Not only am I writing random for the sake of someone’s birthday, but because of 13.
I ran 13 miles because it was in me. And so are these words which aim for readers to donate to my GoFundMe 🙂