March 31st 2019
Got out of bed at 6, to break the cycle, to roll away the boulder. Sparrow sending me links on WhatsApp and Twitter, reaching out because she is good and noble. She's down herself and still thinking of me. I can't respond because my real self is still in the cave. What walks abroad is a cheerful doppelganger, a smiling mask that I hope will become my face. That's not what she deserves and neither does she deserve the real self in its vampiric shadow. This is my work. Sometimes, the work is all you have as a bulwark against extinction.
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