After Sixty-one Years Together, She

With A Secret Like That, At Some Point The Secret Itself Becomes Irrelevant. The Fact That You Kept It Does Not.

It's Just A Crazy Damned Life, That's All.

I'm Truly Grateful For My Microwave, Which Allows Me To Easily Clarify Butter, Steam Vegetables, And - When I Am Really Lazy - Feed My Three Kids In Less Than Five Minutes.

I Have To Convince Myself That This Is Not A Pointless Life, Even The Body Is Telling Me So.

I Cling To My Anger With Every Ounce Of Humanity Left In My Ruined Body, But It's No Use. It Slips Away, Like A Wave From Shore. I Am Pondering This Sad Fact When I Realize The Blackness Of Sleep Is Circling My Head. It's Been There Awhile, Biding It's Time And Growing Closer With Each Revolution. I Give Up On Rage, Which At This Point Has Become A Formality, And Make A Mental Note To Get Angry Again In The Morning. Then I Let Myself Drift, Because There's Really No Fighting It.