I've had a bit of a week.

It started off with my Dad's birthday, which went very well and was (he told me) the best he'd had in a long time. But then when he arrived back home the first thing he did was make this angry, hurt call back up to me out of the blue which made me angry and hurt and also made me wonder about him going senile (scared).

Then I get an emergency package with about 1lbs worth of documents to sign in order to secure my new job and which also required me to get a passport photo, get finger-printed, swear an oath in front of a notary and basically resubmit every bit of information that was in both my application and resume, twice. This all due by the next day, obviously.

Then my roommate all of a sudden keels over ghastly sick, and we have to wonder if it's because the water went bad or if it's catching or some other reason.

Then my aunt died.


I'm not scared about tomorrow, but maybe I should be?

The World Has No Need for Another Twenty-Something Cynic

I not too long ago explicitly realized this.

Stop, I've heard this one

So, you're plugging along and suddenly you are struck with the thought that if you had stayed he might not be dead.

Which, while it might be true, is not something I can do anything with.

(Someone who was at one time my best friend shot himself a little over a year ago, we were similar people but we'd been out of contact for a long time so it didn't shake me up as much as it might've.)


Also possible: I might be dead instead or as well.

Or we could have become a duo of inseparable gun-wielding psychopaths that went on a rampage across a cowering nation and were secretly in love.



I want to call him a prick (again) for killing himself but it felt forced then and it will feel forced now.