Anticipation of a wake-up call had me in a light sleep. I felt a little sorry for the neighbours, for about a second, then I remembered the countless midnights with terrible music. I am prying my crap open with a crowbar at the moment, so they can just put up with early noise.
It never seemed important to me to be attractive or sexual. These lower primary urges were a waist of time. But for the last five years, I have spent my time trying to rebuild a human being. Living some bizarre grey half-life, always on the safe path. Always dying. Then, when finally the weight on my shoulders became undeniable, the world I had built out of paddle-pop sticks and Clag was annihilated by a light breeze. Diagnosis: ...
In two months I had left a ridiculous job, pushed forward into my business, given up the few things that I had taught myself to value my health, and then started again. And just when I when I was starting to feel any form of progress, I get hit by a car. While I was driving with my sister and friend, I watched the illusion of control disappear from my mind for good.
I do not have a breaking point. If I do, it is death. Nothing will ever make me roll over. I may not have control, but I can be the whole that God made. I will not forget that.
Between physio appointments I worked and played on creative and business tasks. But overall my last day of "holidays" lived up to its name.
"In the book which is my memory, on the first page of the chapter that is the day when I first met you, appear the words, 'here begins a new life'." La Vita Nuova.
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