my life as a car

it’s been a really hard past couple of weeks. the kind of weeks where i wonder what i could be doing wrong. why is fate and fortune turning against me? there must be some detail i am missing. some wrong turn. something i am not doing that i should be doing.

this sounds like a bad joke but it’s true. i was talking to my therapist about my recent diagnosis of cirrhosis of the liver and explaining that this is basically damage that might be controlled, but cannot be undone. she said that this was the equivalent of driving an old car. things wear down and they can only be replaced to a certain extent.

And then on my way home from her office, my car actually did break down. so now i really have to focus upon creating a life for myself that allows me to live longer than my car.

i’m trying not to be too freaked out about this, but i’m carrying this heavy lethargic sadness around. my passions are muted, my thoughts are easily lost, my typing is getting more atrocious.






About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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