“Stay tough, we have a lot further to go.”

That’s probably true.

I hope it’s true.

The words coming out of my fingertips feel goofy and forced as if there were not a single true thought in my brain instead of a thousand (a hundred?). The plants need fresh pots, dishes need doing, things need putting away, and last but not least, words need writing. Sometimes something else takes precedent; not survival, but if you are someone like me, it is something like survival.

Not hunting with an old knife or living in a place with lots of dirt and tarp, but closer to walking through the desert and trying to figure out how you are going to file taxes. “Can this wait?” I don’t know, does anything, ever? That hesitation. It thinks it owns the place.

I can feel my expression changing to meet my piquing exhaustion. Sleep ain’t come no easy with a wide variety of sweet or horrific dream material. I get up as soon as I wake up despite the instinct to lay back down like the sick person I used to be.

Long live the Queen. I didn’t ask for this.

A song called “Sleep In” by Ukiyo begins to play, and I can’t help but laugh at myself. It’s all as funny as it is tragic. Outta sight, outta mind. Wam bam, thank you, Ma’am. Some other third thing. “Am I losing this? ” “No, you are doing fine. Keep going.” Suddenly not too keen on what comes next. Suddenly hesitant.

I dream of friends. Really old friends. They cry with me. I dream of closets with room enough to live in and twinkling lights to invite me. I go and I stay. A new room, and it’s safe. So, it’s about dreams, then? “Who cares?”
I spend a lot of time with my thoughts and feelings. “What is this, and what are we doing with it?” That is what I am trying to survive, and I suppose that is more like calculation than physical taxation, yet when I feel the weight in the lines of my face, I think otherwise. This will make an old woman out of me, if I’m lucky.

Is it half over?

Has it been worth it?

_{April 19th, 2024}

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