I am from the sky.
I am from an airplane I built with my own hands.
I am from the death of my airplane, crashing through the trees with me inside as she died.
I am from a tiny mistake I made in my beloved airplane’s cooling system, a mistake which I didn’t understand until years later.
I am from a lovely house in the seacoast area of New Hampshire, a home I loved with all my heart.
I am from a ten acre plot of land, which I shared with a thousand or a million ticks.
I am from a health care system which cares not about those who are invaded by a terrible disease.
I am from a system which does not work.
I am from the love of friends who helped me get access to legal cannabis in the hopes I’d get well.
I am from a place of terror, induced by the cannabis which did help me get better.
I am from a place where the THC from ten or twenty joints is distilled into a tiny drop of resin.
I am from a place of terror, from which I am desperate to escape.
I am from New York, and Massachusetts, and New Hampshire, and Vermont.
I am from a place of hope.
I am from a Turning Point.
I am from a place of growth and healing.