strange old day of disappointments as trips are canceled plans changed and various energetic challenges from within, conflict zones and grey areas presenting themselves as i meander around like a fatally wounded soldier looking for a shot of morphine.
everything is going wrong, maybe that's right. these days it's hard to know what's going down. i'm slipping and sliding into something i don't want to be, i gotta dispel that energy or work it into something useful. 
breathe captain breathe
it's okay everyone says, it's okay.
but you and i know it will never really be okay again. how could it.
so i shred the demon, do the inner work i'm nagged by love to do and it's time to face the fucking thing that's kept me emotionally stuck at age 0 to 11, my childhood. my inner child.
he's a fucking pain in the ass, and it's driving me nuts but he needs to know the truth, he's okay, he just needed some loving-kindness and to know he was special. 
captain mission's inner child is special. here's his new story.

born into londons poorest slum whitechapel hospital now london hospital he was almost put in a plastic box but his mother defied the medical establishment and took him in her arms and held him and said, he's my child i love him and i will care for him at home.
the doctors were displeased but let her have her own way as she was strong-willed and a formidable personality.
in the one-bedroom room where the mission family lived the young captain was nursed back to health by his mother and aunt. they took him out to the park every day and fed him his rusks which he seemed top like, but best of all they told him he was special. this always made him feel happy because even then at such a young age he knew he was special.

and thus he grew up into a fine captain, with the ability to love all and receive love from the people who loved him. but most of all he loved himself and the woman who dragged him kicking and screaming, into light 57 years later. 
bless you petrena fuda.