Oh, I can almost go on as if nothing is happening. I can keep going on and on and on, and ignore that I'd be on a different patch of soil right now, if I'd made a few less choices.
But the patch of soil I stand on is my own. I stand here by myself, on my own. To get here, I've walked on my own. I've made my choices on my own. Everything that got me here, everything that is here, is my own.
And some days I can't decide whether that is a good thing, or a sad thing.
"I am miserable. It doesn't become me, but I find I am too miserable to care."
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