Day 1

TOYS - DAY

"Give it some time."

That's what the counselor said. "Give it some time."

I've given it 58 years. How much more time does she think I have in me it will take?

Writing isn't any good. I can't capture my feelings--or my lack of them--in words, anymore. I don't have anyone to write to, anyway.

Counselors, publishers, doctors--they all say "Give it some time…"

A decade, a century--a millennium!--has turned beneath us. Time has come and time has gone and I might as well still be scrawling graffiti in the darkness on the walls of the public sewers.

I chase the whole thing around in my head, in circles and circles. Round and round. The thoughts buzz with the sameness of a dull tool, some cerebral hole-saw cutting out a cross-section of my sanity. I can't think for all the noise of my thoughts.

I hope I can keep track on paper, then. Each day I'll record the reasons I should live, and the reasons I should die. I don't know how long it will take, or how long I'll be able to stand it.

I guess I'll just give it some time.

*** *** ***

I thought of a poem last night, for the first time in ages. It was beautiful and succinct. It didn't rhyme and it didn't need to. But it drifted off to sleep with me and left before I woke up, like a lover stealing away in the night.

Reasons to Live Today Reasons to Die Today
I still have something to say It's been said before
I am a lone domino
I don't even cry anymore.