I used to look up at the sky and imagine the stars all aligned and twinkling.  I used to look at a lot of things and imagine them twinkling in a beautiful light that revealed their true and inner beauty.  Sometimes I can see it, but lately, I haven't.  Everything was gone to me; it had disappeared and faded into bittersweet, soft, and nightmarish nothings.  That light was gone, and then there was me.

Four years in the grave, yet still alive and barely breathing.  I don't remember it sounding so coarse and labored.  I felt as though I was being beaten up whenever I would breathe.  It hurt to breathe.  It hurt to everything.

Today is May 25, 2009.  At least that's what my calendar tells me.  I think today's the twenty-fifth.  I may be wrong, but I trust the calendar.  What day of the week is it?  I can't remember, and my eyes fall on the baby doll my 11 year old daughter left in my bed, right beside me.  We were playing; something I miss dearly.  "Here, Daddy."  she said one night, tucking in the baby doll next to me, after she had tucked me in.  "Maybe you can rock her and care for her.  I know you're tired, so I want you to know I love you very very much."

I love you too... very very much.

 I had not slept.  Or maybe I had slept, but I don't feel rested.  Why isn't this stuff working for me?  I've used it for years and it's worked!  But why not now, when I need it most?  I go on stage in July, and need all the rehearsing and such I can get.  Stand up, get over your sleepiness, and get going!  You need to get going!  NOW!  You don't have much time!

So I attempt to get up out of bed, feeling the want to desperately fall back down.  I am cold.  I am very cold.  I am still laying here.  I want to hug my children.  I want to hold my children.

 But I can't find the strength.  Where did it go?  Did it go somewhere I can't fathom?  I suppose it did; otherwise I would have that strength back.  I long for that strength, but I wasn't seeming to get it.

 I want to cry.  I've cried a lot.  I cry everyday.  I cry because I wake up.  I cry because I fall asleep (or at least attempt doing so).  I cry because my children tell me "good morning", "goodnight", "I love you".  I cry because I have been shunned wrongfully by the world.  But what kind of world am I in right now?  That's all that mattered to me.  Right now.  I try to forget the past, but when you try to see the sun shine outside and people still accuse you of being a hideous and eccentric pervert, it's hard not to.

Maybe I shouldn't have done this.  Maybe I shouldn't have, but I wanted to show my children what I'm all about.  But how else would I pay my debt if I didn't do this?  I had to do this.  I had to make both ends meet.   But how would I do it?  What if I couldn't do it?  What if I just made a big fool of myself?

My world, since that day almost four years ago, spiraled downward, into an eternally dark abyss that only my family and my children shone light into.  Sometimes I would plaster a smile on my face, slapping myself silly with the lies that I was coming out of that trauma stronger than I ever was.  But that wasn't the case.  Not at all.

Sometimes I dream of an angel who nurtures my soul, the way I nurture my children.  She holds me close to her, as if I am her baby, and she makes me feel complete, the way I feel complete when I am with my children.  It's like the way my mother held me when I was very little, singing You Are My Sunshine while I would fall asleep with my head on her shoulder, and she would cuddle me, tuck me in, and kiss my forehead.  Sometimes, this angel sings beautiful lullabies during the day, when I need to be awake.  I can't fall asleep, but this beautiful angel makes it so hard not to feel sleepy.

The sun is too bright.

The day is too dark.

The moon dances with the stars.

I am your joy.

Your best of joy.

I am the moonlight.

You are the spring.

Our love's a sacred thing.

I am forever... I am?  I like to think so, but sometimes that's hard to think.

But that sounds like a nice tune.   Thank you, God, for this beautiful song.  Thank you for letting me cherish this beautiful song forming through me.

"What's your favorite letter?"  I asked my youngest son, when he was six years old.  He replied, "G for God, and D for Daddy."

"I love you sooooooo much Daddy!" my firstborn, my son, wrote to me when he was younger.

"I'm so happy I got a goodnight hug." my daughter had written in a note.  "I love you very much, and goodnight."

I must remember that I am loved, even when the world is crucifying me behind my own back.  My children are my everything.  They are the ones keeping me alive.  It's not the rehearsals, it's not the fame, the "fortune", or anything else of that matter.  My three little angels are my entire world.

But now, I must go get ready for a rehearsal.  I don't know why I am still under my covers, but I am so cold.  I picked up the phone, called him, and said "Rehearsal canceled.  I simply can't today."

I quickly put the phone down, and heard the laughter of my little angels.

I am cold.

But can not get warm.

I am sleepy.

But I can not sleep.

My little angels were around me.  I felt them.  And I hugged them and held them close, crying silently, unable to control my tears.  I cry because I love them so.

I love them so...