I had this thought a little while ago. Maybe it was more of a remembrance than a thought. I'm not sure. My memory of what it was is fading quickly.
I'm surprised all the time lately. Usually not in a good way, but not always in a bad way, either. Just surprised.
I mean, for example, I wake up one morning and I'm forty-five years old. How the fuck does that happen?
Or, I wake up several hundred mornings, and I'm by myself. She's not with me. And you can define she however you want, it makes no real difference. I'm still waking up by myself.
It's shocking, that's what it is.
It's not supposed to be like this. I'm not supposed to be like this.
And now I've got rabies from this damn cat.
But I digress. Rabies will do that to you, I've heard. Makes you digress all over the place.
My life goes through cycles. Never about me, always about someone else. Fuck you, it varies. It really does. Of course I miss LaptopGirl, but then I miss HatGirl, and then I miss MixedSignalGirl with an intensity that still shocks me after all these years. Then for a while I'll miss KittenDamsel, and then I'll almost certainly give StupidGirl her due. It's always about missing someone. It's never about just being sad for no reason at all. Or, God forbid, being happy.
It's never about just being myself.
I'm not sure that I have a life of my own anymore.
When I was a little kid, my future seemed set in stone except for that small detail of her face. Now usually I feel that her face is certain, but everything else is murky and indistinct. Grasping at phantoms that don't really exist.
I liked having a future, even one that improbable. It was something, dammit. Now, nothing.
I don't like it.
I feel like I should start living for myself. But then I remember that there's no point in doing that. Because, who the fuck am I?