Coming back was always hard to do.

I had long since realized not everyone would meet my true self. Part of living this solitary life in the absence of friends and lovers was to recognize grains of truth or signs when they would come. Scant.

Usually long after you had been beaten and beaten, but showed up anyway to walk through the fire once again.

"Own your life! Its yours, own it!" he would say to me.

I reminded myself frequently that crazy people were the closest things to seers I could expect in this world. Their whole life could be in-congruent with the idea of sage advice. But, these people were conduits for mystic truths.