like no one knows
May 10th, 2003 bytoday is my last day in this apartment. i’m moving out.
i’m not sure quite where i’m headed out next. i’ve got places lined up, but nothing definite. i’ve got people in the know but no one alerted. i’ve got a general idea, an outline of an essay, with each paragraph containing barely a thesis statement.
and later in the afternoon, i have to go see her folks. say hello, chitchat animatedly and smile big. everything is alright afterall, right? oh yeah, totally. we all love each other, us grand people, with love and sincerity flowing out from our chests, beating alive with every breath, and we deeply breath in this air so gifted.
it’s empty air. it’s a smoke without a fire. it’s a burning wood but no ashes. it’s an open house with a “closed today” sign.
i’m not sure what it is. i’m half confused as to the ending to this story. i wrote this story, i worked damn hard at making sure it was to be one of my best works ever. as it is with each and every single story, new characters get introduced, with their own ways, and their own sayings. and the plot, literally, thickens, a fat little elephant in the corner, pretty soon too fat to move and change and wash and clean itself up. the plot thickens, the plot deepens and the plot has a life of its own. you, me the author that is, realize that you were never in charge, you never held the pen because the pen held you.
you were just a character in someone elses story and you just ran out of lines.