The PMX Subspace Communication Station
Something's coming
Do you remember how it felt to be there? To hold it in your arms - to make it sing? Can you recall the moment when you set it down, not knowing when--if ever--you'd be there again?
When you move fully into the adult portion of your life you forget sometimes to turn your neck and point your mug back. Maybe it isn't memory - maybe it's mercy. You don't want to see how far you've strayed from who you were because you know you've gone down a path not of your choosing, but of some fabricated necessity.
Money. Time. Mortgages. No kids or kids. Cats and dogs. Cars. Careers.
Fuck it, I say. I'm going to die someday. I keep forgetting that. Maybe it's not memory - maybe it's mercy. Because I can't take the intensity. Not these days. I've fucking had enough.
Do you know what happens to your brain when you go through five years of grief? It says, "Hey, fuck you!" and turns off. Then you go purely by habit and instinct. That will get your mortgage paid and it will keep you out of the hospital. Sometimes that's really all you can ask for.
But I'm asking for more than that now.
On September 30th, 2007 I'll give you something too. A gift from Prosolar Mechanics. Because we're not dead yet.
posted by Amy Jacob
9/14/2007 11:56:00 AM Got something to say about it?Go on then.
