I am writing to you from the back of an ambulance going down highway 80. My work is done. Now I can only sit here and be a witness. I am with a young (stress that part) man who feels that this life is not worth living. He is asleep, and he looks like an angel.

He didn’t look like that an hour ago. An hour ago he was all the rage and pain in this world.

Now, I am not gonna sit here and tell you his story, because I am honestly not here to write about him. I am here to tell you about me and my war.

I am sure that all of you have heard about this war. War on police and poor folks. War on Black lives and a war on Brown lives. War on you and war on me. War all the fucking time. I don’t remember when I wasn’t at war.

I bat clean-up here. Once the chaos is done, that’s when I come in. I get all the damage and none of the story. Good guys and bad guys don’t carry weight, it’s only the damage that interests me. Unlike most involved in this war, I have no enemy. I have no cause or agenda. I just fix shit, and I hold back the tide.

My war is on unnecessary pain and the fragility of the human body. It’s on loneliness and the loss of hope. My war is never gonna end.

Ride with me today, and then tell me which lives matter.