July 5th, Year 22

I know that I wait in vain for an external sign to motivate an internal transformation. Nonetheless, the desire to locate the alchemical stone haunts me deeply, and perversely. The trick is, to walk on as if nothing has happened. Then, you do it all again tomorrow, as if it was the first time. You search, because not many things find you on their own.

I exist in the pit of my stomach. It is all felt in waves. I feel aunt Arminda’s death. Finally, she rests. Already I am forgetting the sound of her voice, but not the way she cared for me. That cannot be removed from my memory. Not the company picnics. Not the Santa Rosa Catholic Church’s annual fair. Not Sunday barbeques. Not swimming away hot Summer days.

Life changes when you most require that it remain the same.

And what of my dearest Muninn. He is only ingesting 450 calories a day. He is a purple skeleton, a slow suicide.

I hate them all. Leaving me so quietly, as if I would not notice in time.

July 5th, Year 22

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s