hope and love and trying to kill myself.
Last night the voices came out of the corners of my old world, surprising me, delighting me. Hello, Susan. Hello, Nunner. Always good to hear from you guys. Always nice to realize how life continues, even when you're staring at your bellybutton and talking to ghosts. It reminded me of what I first realized when I was 5 years old, taking a tub on a Sunday night and thinking about how I would be 40 years old in the year 2001, then 50 in 2011, and by the time 2051 rolled around I would be dead and the world would go on and I would be dust. I cried that night, scared at my first realization of the frail, finite nature of life. And then I sucked it up and decided I'd better hump ass and get shit done before the dusty times arrived.
Since then I have been determined, driven. I have been satisfied and enriched, won more than a hundred awards for journalism, been featured in one book and become a character in another. I was even happy once.
Now I am This — a shadow in some minds, a reflection of all I used to be. Tonight I will go to a bar and mingle. Perhaps I'll put on a monkey suit and amuse the clique.