Sequelae

not quite nothing

Don’t worry; I know perfectly well how it works. I know that there are no signs, no portents, no rewards, no ticker tape parade. I haven’t made it as far as hubris for over a decade. There is that other world and then there is the one I live in, where the only reliable outcomes emerge from plodding and plotting, both at great length.

This is nothing. I have awakened for days on end wishing I were someone else, anyone else, literally anyone, and still had to go through each day as me because time is the only way to make that go away. I have asked my spouse to hide the gun keys and flush barbiturates and stow any length of hose that might conceivably reach from tailpipe to side window. This is nothing.

I have encountered shuddering horrors that wanted nothing more than to see me disappear, and have possessed the means to make that happen. This? This is par for the course. Business as usual. Nothing to see here. This is nothing. I got tricked a little, is all. I could tell you never again but that would only be standard operating procedure, too.