Daily Drama

Sometimes I find myself sitting in the living room, anchored to a chair, unable to move. I place my hands over my face as the tears runs down my cheeks. I let the pain wash over me, but it has no cleansing effect. I remain dirty with emotion.

I can feel my body breaking down. The chemical elements that compose me are returning to the earth. Yet a single shaft of sunlight leaking through my fingers quickly re-assembles the world. The day takes shape before me and I stir.

I get up. I listen to music. I check my email. I go through the motions; thinking to find meaning in them. I'm being silly, I know. I'm killing myself slowly, but I don't care. I don't care about anything. Well, maybe one thing. Yes, definitely one thing.

This is a daily drama; a scenario that reenacts itself over and over again at respectable intervals. I'm tired of writing letters. I'm tired of phoning friends. I'm tired of pleading my case to the world. The jury is in and I've been given a life sentence which I must live out.

I return to my chair and stare out the window. . .