You can experience pain and let it consume you, destroy you, and twist and warp you, or you can take your pain and channel it into art. I choose art.
I wrote this poem back in January 2024 when this event occured the first time. The event reoccurred, apparently, when I had my ringer off this weekend, so rather than let fear and anger consume me, I took the poem I needed to write about it again (the third time this occurred!) and spent too long precisely refining it and making visual art to accompany it.
It was relaxing and no, my crazy ex did not and cannot ever get bail from me. I like knowing where he is, it provides me a peace of mind I don’t have usually, and knowing he is off the streets.
