There Was No One To

Alone In My Room, Wrapped In A Blanket, I Whimpered And Talked Aloud To Myself, Recalling The Lost Glory Of My Youth When I Considered Myself, And Was Considered By Others, A Bright And Capable Person. It Seemed That Was All Gone Now.

Once Upon A Time There Was A Boy Who Loved A Girl, And Her Laughter Was A Question He Wanted To Spend His Whole Life Answering.

The Clarity Was Startling And Samson Wondered Whether He Was Imagining These Moments. Not That They Hadn't Happened At All, But That They Had Been Embellished By Details From Elsewhere, Fragments That Survived The Obliteration Of Other Memories, Vagrant Data That Gravitated And Stuck To What Was Left To Remember. But In The End He Rejected This Idea. The Memories Were Too Perfect: Take One Detail Away And They Collapsed Into Disorder.

Now That Mine Is Almost Over, I Can Say That The One Thing That Struck Me Most About Life Is The Capacity For Change. One Day You're A Person And The Next Day They Tell You You're A Dog. At First It's Hard To Bear, But After A While You Learn Not To Look At It As A Loss. There's Even A Moment When It Becomes Exhilarating To Realize Just How Little Needs To Stay The Same For You To Continue The Effort They Call, For Lack Of A Better Word, Being Human.

The More Freedom I Allow Myself As A Writer To Wander, Become Lost And Go Into Uncertain Territory - And I Am Always Trying To Go To The More Awkward Place, The More Difficult Place - The More Frightening It Is, Because I Have No Plan.