1800: The water frightens me, a terror born from the unseen depths. Dropped from safe heights into pools and unknown locations, my dread took root the day I drowned. Emily said she couldn't make it, but she came despite it being her brother's death anniversary, the day he drowned. Unable to save him, she knew my reckless tendencies. I often pushed beyond my limits, ignoring the perils of life and death. Exhausted and fully equipped, I ventured into a frigid pool in Florida, a Navy SEAL training site. Fatigue overwhelmed me as we swam underwater for several yards in a resiliency challenge. I got stuck, my equipment locked in a knot, and Emily, unable to free me, lacked her blade. She offered me her last breath, pressing something against my mouth. I opened my eyes to see her lifeless gaze. Something surged within me, heating everything around me. With a dolphin-like push, I propelled us upward. Emily felt light, perhaps from adrenaline, and I performed mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. She regained consciousness and punched me, leaving a mark on my face. Later, she confided about her brother, a story she had never shared. In contrast from what she told her Coast Guard crew, it wasn't me who saved a life that day. It was Emily and her brother.
1212: I have people filling the gaps of my missing time, particularly in my career, where once there were paper trails and frequent breaches. Many know of me and have witnessed my capabilities, often identifying me as an unassuming man in unexpected groups. I've been asked how I remain calm in situations where others panic, how I maintain an even keel. They recount stories of me as a steady presence, a drumbeat in times of lost hope, pressing forward, though not always ending in fortune, as a leader watching from the back to ensure no one is left behind. My mind pushes forward, adjusting based on those around me, as strong as the team I belong to. Marina brought me back to a life of purpose, compelling me to become more, knowing I was a father. Even during dark days, forgetting my past, my family grounded me. As others continued their lives, I divided my time between my biological family and surrogates. For years, something felt missing whenever I was with you. I hesitated to open up, lacking a complete sequence of events, and it was too personal. Now, the story shifts, with Marina's non-attribution biography involving my entire life, though I fear the security risk. Despite everything, my associates remain friends. Relationships with me are complicated, as I prioritize others' safety over my own needs. Yet, I strive to honor my family name, sharing some burdens while keeping certain parts compartmentalized. I recall martial arts and Bible passages taught informally, and in a storm, I knelt beside someone, reciting verses by heart. These gaps surface during long runs, captured on a cloud or paper. Writing makes thoughts tangible, marked for action. This isn't a post about being single or alone but managing in an age where social interaction is vital. I will continue to breathe, live, and press on with family and others, for you.
0210: I noticed certain mental callouses forming on my autism, inhibiting involuntary movement. In the calmness between these urges, I recognized episodes and found rhythm, sensing fields unnoticed by others. Since joining a service that resuscitated me multiple times, a faint drumbeat became audible, guiding my analysis and precise movements. As a natural observer of nature, I made rapid calculations, merging a brash logical part with my empathetic side. This check and balance delayed my responses into thoughtful action, yet in urgent situations, I triaged timing points, making decisions flow logically, resembling a dance to outside observers. The beat I tracked through various cues, like ticking clocks and water drops, connected moments and objectives, grounding me in the presence of others. My attention span, akin to ADHD, jumped from point to point, tracing lines to climb like ropes to a summit, then descending to other paths. This mental flow, a marathon of interconnected lines and synapses, required intense focus, biologically unfriendly to friendly eyes, needing biomechanical regeneration. I've sent eye movements and electrode data for machine learning and AI, aiding a neuroscientist friend of Marina's with her thesis. Although many are told not to contact me directly, I prefer direct communication. Distracted by overwhelming data, I need substantial markers to refocus. Burnout signs include fogging windows or performing kata, martial arts movements. To some, it appears as stretching; to the observant, it reveals my data interpretation pattern. This isn’t a cause for concern; I'll find a way to coexist with this, especially as space draws nearer.
