Today is a good day. It’s been a while since the last time I got to sit down and write. Free time is a rare commodity nowadays, and when I do find it I’m usually working on the Goodfight or trying to catch up on another luxury I can never seem to find enough of: sleep. I wish I didn’t have to. When you’re trying to hustle a better future I’m finding the whole process is quite overrated. I guess when different body functions stop working the way they’re supposed to I’m gradually changing my opinion. Slightly. To be honest lately I get scared sometimes. I’m just under a quarter century mark and shit’s already starting to get weird. You never think about things like that growing up—especially when you grow up with white kids trapped in suburbia. We were always doing something that could potentially create a hospital visit. You throw yourself at the world like you’re invincible, and when you do get hurt it’s just a temporary setback. Cuts close up. Bones are reset and grow back together. The nausea goes away. The headache never lasts. But what would it be like if you got sick one day and you didn’t get better? My brother’s feeding ducks by the pond. I was wondering why there were all these crumbs in my backseat today. It looked like the Cookie Monster freaked out on the cushion and nobody told me. Turns out he was snacking on a chocolate chip number my mom slipped him before the two of us headed out to the park. He ate one half and I found the other jammed in compartment next to his booster seat. I wouldn’t have discovered it unless he forced me to retrieve his leftovers from the car so he could feed the ducks. Funny how things change. Five months ago the only thing he wanted to feed those ducks were rocks and sticks. Fed straight to the side of the head or preferably any other bodypart that could be dealt heavy damage. Now he’s showering those guys manna from heaven like Mother freakin’ Theresa.  What’s funnier is less than five months ago I was unemployed, sitting on this very bench wondering if things would ever change.  They did.  And now I catch myself daydreaming at work about pulling woodchips out of this tiny villain’s hair and the way he pretends to be tired so I’ll carry him all the way home from school.  That’s when my eyes start getting wet and suddenly I’m feeling like a damn fool.  You’re just a damn fool. I always know exactly what I want right before I change my mind.

Today is a good day. It’s been a while since the last time I got to sit down and write. Free time is a rare commodity nowadays, and when I do find it I’m usually working on the Goodfight or trying to catch up on another luxury I can never seem to find enough of: sleep. I wish I didn’t have to. When you’re trying to hustle a better future I’m finding the whole process is quite overrated. I guess when different body functions stop working the way they’re supposed to I’m gradually changing my opinion. Slightly.

To be honest lately I get scared sometimes. I’m just under a quarter century mark and shit’s already starting to get weird. You never think about things like that growing up—especially when you grow up with white kids trapped in suburbia. We were always doing something that could potentially create a hospital visit. You throw yourself at the world like you’re invincible, and when you do get hurt it’s just a temporary setback. Cuts close up. Bones are reset and grow back together. The nausea goes away. The headache never lasts.

But what would it be like if you got sick one day and you didn’t get better?

My brother’s feeding ducks by the pond. I was wondering why there were all these crumbs in my backseat today. It looked like the Cookie Monster freaked out on the cushion and nobody told me. Turns out he was snacking on a chocolate chip number my mom slipped him before the two of us headed out to the park. He ate one half and I found the other jammed in compartment next to his booster seat. I wouldn’t have discovered it unless he forced me to retrieve his leftovers from the car so he could feed the ducks.

Funny how things change. Five months ago the only thing he wanted to feed those ducks were rocks and sticks. Fed straight to the side of the head or preferably any other bodypart that could be dealt heavy damage. Now he’s showering those guys manna from heaven like Mother freakin’ Theresa.  What’s funnier is less than five months ago I was unemployed, sitting on this very bench wondering if things would ever change.  They did.  And now I catch myself daydreaming at work about pulling woodchips out of this tiny villain’s hair and the way he pretends to be tired so I’ll carry him all the way home from school.  That’s when my eyes start getting wet and suddenly I’m feeling like a damn fool.  You’re just a damn fool.

I always know exactly what I want right before I change my mind.