“Why do I have this glorious feeling that today is going to be an awesome day? Check out the pessimist trying to be an optimist for a change, eh?!” This is what Monica’s Facebook post said at 6:45 in the morning, around the time her little boy wakes up and starts her day for her. Her husband sleeps a little longer, having to work for a living to support her and the young boy.
I’ve thought about this kind of life and felt both sick to my stomach and elated by the opportunity it could present. I base this off the position I’m in right now, in the present. See, I’m not doing so well for a thirty-five year old man. I’m barely supporting myself off of my savings account, month to month, hour to hour. I’m not a victim, just a lost vessel.
I’ve chosen a life that, for the time being, must be a toss-up. Something that grows closer to uncertainty every day. Maybe this is the beginning stage of homelessness. Maybe I’ll end up in-patient, my brother caring for my cat and my parents, long divorced, wondering what needs to be done about me.
“Happy birthday,” they post on my friend’s wall on Facebook. Happy birthday, old friend. We don’t see each other anymore, living in different cities and so far away from each other emotionally that all we have are the past years we’ve spent. Elementary school, middle school, high school. All of this in the same town I moved away from after thirty-five years, way too late to make a difference.
The folks there are doing fine, it seems – from their Facebook posts and tiny bits of news I hear from time to time. I gather that babies are being born (my brother has one on the way) and that peace is still trying to work its way into the consciousness of everyone I see online and occasionally, in my dreams.
Good day to you Monica. Feel glorious. Try to make it last all day and find the resolve not to tell anyone. Keep it for yourself.