I Wanna Be Joan Cusack

2003-10-13 - 9:44 p.m.

'my house is a cricket graveyard'

Lately whenever I look around at this life I'm building, I can't help but marvel at how easy it is for me to pass right in and out of it like some stranger. I'm barely more than a phantom in my life. I'm the condensation dripping from the wet glass of a life just waiting to shatter into shards. I feel like vapor. And like I'm lacking substance.

Most days I feel like my life has taken on the ability to keep right on going without me in it, because when I came back here from a five-day jaunt into Denver I found that my bed still seemed slept in. There were dishes still to be done all piled high in the sink. And there were no messages to be played or letters to be read.

It was like my life just kept on. I, somehow, kept on going without me. And I see now as clearly as I see these words forming in this blank space that should I ever decide to go again, nothing would change in my absence. Everything stays the same after I'm gone.

�

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