Thaidal Zoner
Bio
I'm old in age but new to sharing stories publicly. Grief, healing, synchronicity, and second chances have shaped a lot of what I write. I'd be genuinely grateful for your honest feedback-let's keep the conversation going.
Stories (2)
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Meeting My Dead Best Friend Twice: . AI-Generated.
I was twenty when the world cracked in half. My mom died suddenly that spring, leaving me reeling and raw. Then, just months later, Jimmy told me over a nice casual lunch on Broadway in Vancouver— plates filled with burgers & fries, the sharp tang of ketchup mixing with the faint diner coffee bitterness—that the spots on his arms weren’t an injury. They were the first signs of something the doctors were just starting to name AIDS. He was scared, but still grinning like the slutty optimist he was, his voice low over the clatter of dishes. “California,” he said. “They need fresh faces. Mature ones.” He practiced saying James instead of Jimmy, rolling the name around like it might armor him against whatever came next. I laughed, called him a goober, and hugged him so hard the waitress looked away; my cheek pressed against his warm shoulder.
By Thaidal Zonera day ago in Psyche
The Brew's Bitter Gift: . Content Warning.
By my early fifties, grief and trauma had stacked so high I could barely hold myself up anymore — just numbness, barely existing and fake smiles along with small talk raised as armor when I had no choice but to be social. It felt like my life was already over and I was just waiting for time to pass.
By Thaidal Zonera day ago in Psyche
