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My father was a loving and accepting man. I watched him grow and evolve over the years—his beliefs shifting as he learned, as he listened, as life opened his eyes in new ways. He never clung to an idea simply because it was familiar. Instead, he allowed himself to question, to reconsider, to change. When
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If you’ve ever found yourself drawn into the orbit of a narcissist, you know the dizzying contradiction they embody: one minute, they’re warm, attentive, and seemingly all in; the next, they’re cold, cruel, and impossibly detached. It’s as if you’re dealing with two distinct people—a light and a dark—when in reality, it’s the same person,
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Who would be the Antichrist? The idea has fueled centuries of speculation—from theological debates to conspiracy theories to vicious political accusations. Rooted in Christian eschatology, the Antichrist is often imagined as a charismatic deceiver, a figure who rises to power, opposes Christ, and ushers in an era of unspeakable chaos. Yet in a world that
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Losing your eyesight as you age is terrifying. I don’t talk about it much, but every year, my vision gets worse. And with that comes a quiet panic—one that sneaks up on me in unexpected moments. Like when I struggle to read something I know I could see just fine a few months ago, or
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I saw this quote by Charles Bukowski, and it hit me like a brick to the skull: “I see men assassinated around me every day. I walk through rooms of the dead, streets of the dead, cities of the dead; men without eyes, men without voices; men with manufactured feelings and standard reactions; men with
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I woke in the night, taking a moment to adjust my eyes to the darkness of the room. A faint light filtered through the windows, casting fleeting shadows whenever a car passed on the street below. Hearing movement, I sat up in bed and glanced around, but there was nothing to see. I lay back down,
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In an ideal world, I would be able to hold my husband’s hand in public without a second thought. Not just in the safe pockets of the world—the city streets where we blend in, the Pride festivals where we are celebrated, the family gatherings where we are known—but anywhere. Any street, any town, any room.
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Have you ever heard that we lose 21 grams at the moment of our death? Some say it’s the weight of the soul—a notion that feels both mysterious and deeply profound when it comes to remembering someone as irreplaceable as my dad. Lately, I’ve been immersed in memories of him—cherishing the warmth of his laughter,
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God, This morning, I wake up once again with a heavy heart, wondering how the world is ever going to come out of the darkness that seems to have taken control, slowly choking it. I know you see it, too—the hatred, the violence, the way people tear each other apart over things that should bring
Steven LaChance Blog 