Dear Unsealers,

When I was a little girl, my grandfather bounced me on his knee and sang “Three Little Fishes” as I giggled through the song. All he ever wanted was for me to feel joy in life. He died when I was 13. It was my first experience with overwhelming grief, and I was devastated. I coped by leaning into the idea that my grandfather was watching over me and cheering me on in all my pursuits.

He used to tell me that the rain was good luck. So, whenever it rained during big moments of my life, I believed it was my grandfather signaling to me, “Don’t worry, I am here.” It rained at my high school graduation. It rained when I scored big goals in soccer. It rained when I interviewed for my dream job as a sports anchor. It poured the day I was offered that job, which happened to be my late grandfather’s birthday. It seemed like it was always raining on the most important days of my life, which only cemented my belief that my grandfather was watching out for me.

However, on November 30, 2022, it was a clear night in Miami — not a cloud in the sky. I decided to attend a networking event for people in Miami who work in technology. There, I made eye contact with this tall, handsome man. He started talking to me, and after telling him about my company, The Unsealed, he told me that he had founded an online company when he was younger. He said his site received 20,000 organic hits daily (that’s a lot). And so, I started asking many questions — it was rapid-fire, one after the other. At some point, he stopped me and said, “Do you want to continue this conversation over tacos?” And so, we left and ate Mexican street corn and tacos on a picnic table outside a restaurant that doubles as a speakeasy.

It didn’t take me long to realize that this man was kind, intelligent, classy, funny, and thoughtful. From that day forward, we started spending a lot of time together: dinners, events, and even weekend trips. As I opened up to him about my past and my pain, he listened closely. He asked questions, and he never judged me. One time, we were watching a movie, and I had a flashback from my sexual assault. I put the pillow over my head and asked him to change the channel quickly. He turned off the TV, and as my eyes started to well up with tears, he said, “Come here, let me hold you.” When I shared my fears and insecurities about building a company, he said, “Lauren, think of the ten smartest people you’ve ever encountered, and I promise you at least nine of them couldn’t do what you’ve done.” To this day, he always follows through when he makes a promise to me, whether it be a trip to a foreign place or to my favorite restaurant. From the beginning, he has known when I am happy, anxious, frustrated, or hungry — just by the look on my face — and has responded accordingly. He is so in tune with who I am and how I feel that it seems as though my peace is his priority.

Even so, early in our relationship, I was afraid to trust the authenticity of his love. I had been disappointed so many times in love and relationships, and I was on edge, just waiting for the shoe to drop — just waiting for something to go wrong. I couldn’t live in the moment as I was too afraid it would soon end. One night, he was on his computer while I was resting on his couch, and I randomly asked him what his name meant in his culture. He was in the middle of working and responded, “I don’t know — something with water.” So I googled it. His name translates as “the God of rain.”

In disbelief, that was the moment I began to let myself love and be loved. That was the moment I started to trust my partner and the universe. It was the reassurance I needed to know I was safe. About a year later, he proposed to me on the boardwalk at Disney World. We are getting married in a few months, and I am so excited. Falling in love has enriched my life and made the present moment so special, so much so that it has made me believe that magic exists in all of our lives.
For years, the rain was a way for me to stay connected to the joy my grandfather brought me, but now, it’s what allowed me to embrace the joy right before me.

With immense hope and gratitude,

Dear Janice Burgess,
I hope this letter finds its way to you in heaven. I meant to release these words months ago, but events during the summer made me lose sight of them until today. So, please forgive my lateness.

Since you passed away in March, several talented people have also left this earth, such as Rico Wade, James Earl Jones, Maggie Smith, Dikembe Mutombo, and, recently, John Amos.

It saddened me that it wasn’t until the news of your passing that I learned that you were the one who created the cute cartoon show The Backyardigans.

I was entering my 20s and living with my oldest sister and niece in Maryland when I discovered your show. My niece and I enjoyed another kid’s show called The Wonder Pets. It took a little while for me to get into that show, but once I did, I wanted it to the point where I believed I enjoyed it as much as my niece did.

It was a blast watching the three main characters in The Wonder Pets have adventures and talk to other animals in their world.

Once I was eager to watch The Wonder Pets, I noticed your show, The Backyardigans, would come on before The Pets. It looked interesting, but I wondered if I would like it as much as The Wonder Pets. I’m so glad I was wrong about that.
Slowly but surely, my niece and I would start watching The Backyardigans as much as The Wonder Pets.
Listening to the theme song of The Backyardigans was always a great way to start the day when I was babysitting my niece. It was also fun to see what the main characters were up to in the episodes we watched together.

Watching my niece light up when your show and The Wonder Pets came on TV made me light up. I saw how happy you made her. She’s 16 now , which is mind-blowing to me. But I’ll never forget those times I had with her watching your show and The Wonder Pets early in the morning.

So thank you, Ms. Burgess, for creating a show that gave me memories with my niece and all the other work you’ve done. Just from looking at some of your photos online, you looked like a sweet person who gave other people joy.
 Rest in power.

Sincerely,
Gerald

running in slow motion
By: Jim Kellogg
(The Queer Poet)
9-30-24

running in slow motion
at an exceptionally reduced pace
toward
away from
not content in the middle
looking back
with mixed emotions
hostility
satisfaction
looking forward
with mystery
a riddle
a question mark
creating a kaleidoscope
black and white
dazzling hues
unsteady
stable
mirrors and shards of broken glass
reflecting
challenging
creating madness
birthing sageness

running in slow motion
at an exceptionally reduced pace
closed doors
barriers and secrets
open doors
exploration and opportunities

To start at the top from the beginning
My plan was to drop myself from this living
Moving over to the left you’ll see
The pot I grew and smoked at need
Moving down will sum up the whole page
Cuz this life sux so I found rage
Up to the left is 3 empty bottles of Jack
And with one left to go you know trouble will attack
And if you drink all of this bourbon
A migraine I think is what you’ll be burning
Up in the corner with the Marlboro cigarettes
Is a tipped bottle of vodka I’ll never forget
Cuz every morning on the way to school
With coffee and vodka I’d try to be cool
Manson up there to sing about the drugs
With heroin to share my two-timed love
And a Zippo I always collected
To cook on a spoon what I injected
AC/DC is music to my ears
And Budweiser is the king of beers
And if these beers are in your fridge
Then there is a killer in the kitchen in which you live
The cigarette butt shows the most
Of how the cigarettes I smoke are gross
With Rolling Rock beer and kinky games to play
And a bottle of crown Royal I’m King of the day
The long line of beautiful Fame
Are women goddesses who make me want to change
The colorful square of cartoons down there
Is it made up fantasy so life ain’t so bear
The clown is me the poem is mine
Jail is my box and life is my time
And the poem says: “Clown in a box”
(This clown broke down cornered in his room
Inside he found no escape from his Doom
He loves his clown inside the box
Let’s shoved back down under pressure and a lock
Cuz he alone is much the same
In his empty home he goes insane
But what’s not the same as the Jack in the box
Is that he feels pain from life’s hard knocks
And we all know when life has him down
Because he won’t show the true face of a real clown
It’s no big deal because life is a joke
But his pain is real and his heart is broke
Now over time his tears are dry
Through all the years he’s had to cry
So no longer can this clown show any pain
From the box he has found only himself to blame.)
The Harley-Davidson will be my next bike
It’s been a dream my entire life
The beautiful cheeks you see from the back
Represents the only good crack
As I saw the beautiful ass
My jaw dropped down and unwinded fast
America is the land of the free
But sex drugs and rock and roll is what it is to me
When you enter the center I’m a monster inside
A suffering rebel poet freak with no place to hide
The Christmas holiday is my worst
And Pantera will always be first
The watch on the side is there to remind
It’s time to change and not rewind
And with an Irish blessing added to the list
Art doesn’t get any more modern than this.

I wrote this at Correctional Treatment Facility in the year 2000, Toledo Ohio

Drawing on top done by: Julia Speedy
http://www.julialovestomakeart.com

I left the door open so that i could walk out
And i stood on the other side of the doorway, encouraging myself to follow
She didn’t move
I didn’t budge

So empty and unsetting
I shouted “come on girl, lets go”
But she followed up with a blank stare

I wondered if i was okay
Was she?
Were we?

I attempted some hand gestures hoping she would move
But she didn’t
And i squinted in confusion

Then i thought about what i needed
From me

So i walked through the open door
Gently grabbing her hand
And walking toward the exit

She followed
She smiled
I smiled
We were okay

Out the door we made it
Leaving all emptiness behind
And we hugged filling the space that once felt unsettling

Invisible. A wish that with each passing day the desire to become tethered with it grows. It was always my answer when I was asked, “What superpower would I choose given the chance?”

It was always invisibility. It’s a period where you are free from the confinements of reality, and everything that comes with it. Free from judgement from other people, free from inconvenience but also securing a safe space to truly be yourself.

Lately the story behind that spark, my desire, it derives from
unwanted attention, unwanted burdens, piling up, and weighing me down like unyielding cargo.

It’s the attention through the eyes of a lustful man, stopping to stare at me while I work, making small talk when it’s clear I don’t want to be friends. His gaze, his voice were like spiders crawling into my skin, sending painless shockwaves of panic through my veins, like a mini earthquake racketing in my body.

It rippled my nerves with anxiety, taking my thoughts to a dark place, swearing to myself that I’ll never be caught in a dark alley with him, wishing I can disappear so his eyes and slimy smile can stop looking at mine.

There’s also life issues, and personal struggles, burdens like struggling to contain your emotions, because you feel too deeply, and now you’re putting yourself out there too much, or you take things the hard way, or you get told you’re too sensitive. You just feel TOO MUCH! It’s overwhelming, so much you start to feel drained in your heart, your soul, your spirit, and self worth.

The burden of it all, juggling life’s chaos, searching for balance, and all that jazz. I struggle everyday, trying to do enough so that I am a fully functional stable, healthy, human being.
A woman.

Yes, snap out of it, Paige.You are more than this and who you are is better than this. You’re better than this.

Listen, I’ll be honest while I’m still going, I’d be lying if I said it didn’t take a toll on me.

And then I remember, one night, I painted a seamless life, an escapable vision, and a fruitless chase for it. A mirage that I will never obtain but always yearn for.

To be alive but invisible would be a kaleidoscope of possibilities, shifting and unfolding, basking in a beautiful, colorful life, relishing in a chance to live in peace, free from mental torment, and wallowing in the quiet stillness of a misty sanctuary, where the soul roam unseen.

It is a dream that I would die for.