I’m courted by death, but death isn’t the answer

It has been a long week.  Yet time has still managed to slip through my fingers, unhindered, unnoticed, and utterly unstoppable.  If I paid attention to every minute, watching my life drizzle away as I flipped burgers, would I be happier because I knew where my time was, or miserable because I knew where I was?

Imagination cannot alter reality, and no matter how often I imagine myself as someone else, somewhere else, I always come back to myself.  I am, as I often forget, real.  Not a character in a book that I’m reading whose fate is decided at the end of 450 pages.  I can’t flip to the last page to check and see if I "Live happily ever after."

It’s tough remembering.  I was packing today, and I kept coming across things I had forgotten I had.  Stuffed animals, clothes, toys, trinkets…all dating back to when I had a HOME.  Truly, I haven’t had a home since before Christmas.  I’ve had a house that I knew would have to be vacated in the near future.  I knew I would have to leave.  I stopped putting up new decorations, re-arranging the furniture, even cleaning, really.  What did I care?  It wasn’t my home.  Now I just feel oddly estranged.  Looking at my room, with its bare walls is unbearable at the moment.  The VCR and DVD player have been packed. 

It’s a tough feeling to describe, when your security is taken out from under you.  What do I put when it says, "Permanent mailing address" on stuff?  I don’t know what my phone number will be.  I don’t know where I’ll be.

I, of course, am furious.