Chapter 102
Chapter One Hundred Two
DeadStrings: You there?
DeadStrings: I wouldn’t call it a surprise. I was hoping you’d connect.
DeadStrings: Hopeful is good.
StringTheory27: Have you ever gotten closure?
DeadStrings: I’m working on my closure, one apology at a time.
StringTheory27: That’s intense . . . why?
DeadStrings: I told you I had a problem, right?
I’m a recovering addict. Part of recovery means looking back.
Not to dwell—but to make things right, or at least acknowledge the damage.
I can’t erase the past, but I can stop hiding from it.
Make amends and hope to build new relationships with those I love.
StringTheory27: That sounds like it hurts. Like picking old scabs and hoping they finally heal clean.
DeadStrings: Exactly. Some people are open to it. Others hang up the moment I say my name. I get it. I probably would too.
StringTheory27: But you still try?
DeadStrings: Yeah. Not because I expect forgiveness. But because they deserve to know that I know what I did. That they weren’t crazy, or weak, or imagining it.
StringTheory27: That takes guts.
DeadStrings: It takes regret. And the belief that I can be better than I was.
StringTheory27: Do you ever wish you could just start over—no history, no past, just a blank page?
DeadStrings: All the time. But I’m starting to see that pages don’t stay blank for long. You bring your pen with you, even if you don’t mean to.
StringTheory27: So what do you write now?
DeadStrings: Less pain. More truth. And maybe some hope too.
StringTheory27: That sounds a little like closure to me.
DeadStrings: Or maybe it’s just the beginning of something I can live with.
StringTheory27: Can I ask something kind of selfish?
DeadStrings: Always.
StringTheory27: How do I help? With you. With all of this. I know I’m just words on a screen, but I don’t want to be helpless while you’re digging through your past and trying to survive the process.
DeadStrings: You’re not just words. You're here. You ask, you listen, you don’t run. That’s more than most people have done for me in a long time.
StringTheory27: But is it enough?
DeadStrings: It’s what I need right now. You don’t try to fix me. You don’t flinch when I get honest. You keep showing up—and that’s rare. And rare things matter when everything else feels like it’s falling through your hands.
StringTheory27: I just don’t want to say the wrong thing. Or push too hard. Or ask questions that reopen wounds you’re barely stitching shut.
DeadStrings: You’re not hurting me. If anything, you make it easier to keep going. You remind me there’s more than just apologies and grief in this process.
StringTheory27: What else is there?
DeadStrings: Music. Memory. Conversations that don’t ask for anything. The possibility of laughing when I thought I’d forgotten how. You gave me all that without asking for anything in return.
StringTheory27: Maybe that’s what friends do. Even ones who’ve never been in the same room.
DeadStrings: Especially those.
StringTheory27: So . . . if you stumble, I’m here. If you need a distraction, I’ll send Allegra’s most dramatic moments. If you want silence, I’ll just sit here with you in it.
DeadStrings: That’s exactly what I need. You the way you’ve been so far.
StringTheory27: Can I make you a playlist? Something for the days when you need a hand but don’t want to ask for one.
DeadStrings: I’d like that. A lot.
StringTheory27: Ready?
“Just Like Heaven” —The Cure
A swirl of emotion wrapped in dreamy guitar. It’s the happiness that comes with a touch of ache—like remembering someone you miss with a smile instead of a tear.
“You Make My Dreams” —Hall & Oates
Try to stay in a bad mood during this one. Impossible. It’s pure dopamine in musical form.
“I Melt with You” —Modern English
Optimistic but not na?ve. It’s the feeling of connection and chaos rolled into one synth-backed embrace.
“Africa” —Toto
Grand, weird, beloved. Like someone wrapping the globe in a blanket to say: stay weird, stay warm.
“Don’t Stop” —Fleetwood Mac
It’s persistent. A nudge toward tomorrow when today’s too full of questions.
StringTheory27: Play in any order. Skip when it stings. Repeat when it heals.
And when in doubt—remember Otis still thinks you’re the coolest person alive.