You know something? While I’m locked up, at this moment, my book is going to print. Maybe the very first copy will be at my doorstep in the mail when I get out of the ED hospital. Wow, that would be a welcome home gift like I’ve never had before. It ranks right up there with Puzzle’s little doggie-kisses.
Both are confirmations that really, I’m an okay person.
A lot of people work really hard trying to tell me I’m not okay. I’m mentally incompetent, right? Delusional, right? Can’t be trusted for an instant cuz of course, in their eyes, I’m dangerous.
No, no, not that kind of dangerous. I can write. You can do a lot with words that weapons can’t come close to doing.
One thing I haven’t lost, in terms of being treated as respectable, okay human being, is that people do acknowledge me as writer.
Yeah, the MFA after my name comes in handy here. College education does give you sort of a legal status that no one can take away.
I love, love, love that I am college educated. When I tell folks this, it gives me a certain creditability that I otherwise wouldn’t have. To MFA or not to MFA? If you can beg borrow or steal to get the money to pay for college, go MFA.
I guess if you are born, that’s a legal status too and they can’t take that away from you. Even if you die, it’s not like you never lived. You can be bat mitzvahed, and they can’t erase it. You can graduate high school and have a very nice looking diploma and that’s a legal status to be proud of. I can’t go back to the status of “never finished college” cuz now, I have.
Once you’re married, you can get unmarried in various ways, but it won’t erase that you were ever married. I don’t know about the particulars of this, never having been married.
I suppose, though, if you have never married, you can’t get divorced. One has to come first, then, of course, the other, if it ends up that way.
Once you are dead, there’s no going back. Although there are some people who believe in reincarnation. Some people who believe in reincarnation try to go back and “remember” past lives. I wonder how that works. I don’t happen to believe in it cuz it doesn’t seem logical to me, but on the other hand, I haven’t done much thinking about it.
One thing I wish was true, from the bottom or back or wherever of my mind, is that I could die and then sit back watch the world react. Seriously. I fantasize about this all the time.
I will never really know, I guess. I’ve never heard anyone post on the Internet that they died and then had a good chuckle watching the world from afar.
I think about listening in to my funeral to what is officially said and what is said in soft hush-hush whispers. Oh hell, I don’t even know if there will be a funeral. These things are costly, you know?
Will my very very busy brother with his hectic life, too busy to squeeze me in, ever, even show up for this funeral. I suppose he’ll have to leave early, rushing off to someplace, some meeting or maybe a kid has cub scouts or something. Well, I think the kids are beyond cub scout age but he’ll make it look like he’s a very respectable dad.
One thing I know I want known I guess is the truth. That I had this eating disorder. Cuz there might be a little coverup or something. Like my brothers kinda forget as fast as possible that I have an eating disorder, and assume that after a few day of treatment, that I’ve “gotten over it.” And maybe I’ve gone onto another imaginary mental disorder.
Of course, in their eyes, all this stuff over all these years about mental illness is bsomething I made up. Wicked exaggerations and lies. Probably an excuse not to work and make money and pay taxes like a normal law-abiding citizen. An excuse to get out of life, right? Of course I am a family leach, too. No wonder they don’t want anything to do with me.
Hate to say this, nasty as it sounds, it’s all true. Where is this loving family? As a commenter pointed out, if you don’t have one in this world of ED treatment, you’re out of luck.
But like I said, I can write. My pencil isn’t a blood relative, but I love it very much, you know? I hold it firmly in my hand. It is as warm as a gun.