mmmmdcclx

I’ve created

for myself a fiction to slip into every
once in a while.  And I don’t have to 

tell you how that can be a bit problem

atic.  But I’m an optimist, and rather than 

focus on the negative, I’d like to, for a 

moment, celebrate my fictional space.

Except, how many jobs might I have in
quired about in the time it took to slip
back into my routine here?  Shouldn’t I

go deposit this check?  Plan my wedding?
Take that trip outside of the city, something

I’ve been wanting to do for years, yet haven’t

done in too long, embarrassingly, like driving 

up or down Highway One, should it still be in
place by the time I get to it? There are

neighborhoods in my beautiful city that
I haven’t walked in longer than it has been

since I have driven outside of it. Understand

ably.  But all of the reasons that I might come 

up with that have prevented me from doing
so don’t outweigh the benefits of just getting

up, getting myself out the door, and doing it....
These thoughts aren’t going as planned.  May
be I need a new therapist.  Or maybe I just need

to retreat further into myself and this fictional
world into which I can collapse so neatly.  I’m
just kidding, of course?  Just trying to be funny,

I’m good for that, right?  A little bit of humor never
hurt anyone.  Except.  Name a bully who doesn’t
consider themself a comedian.  Surely you can.