Now what?

Yes, I’ve asked that before; here I am, asking again. I wish I could say I wondered if the purpose of life had changed, likely it hasn’t.  Perhaps, the change has only been in my perception of the future.

Yesterday or maybe the day before, I bought a gallon of milk that expires in December. December of 2023. Two weeks ago, I sorted then laundered a basket of clothes that had been waiting for me since December of 2021.

Two years since I really occupied this same location of head space:

Here I am. Now what?

Then as now, I know that the things and the people I love the most would be gone. Family is such a big word to describe such a small group of people.  I miss my sons as I grieve the loss of my family- one sister still here, she’ll keep tabs on me until I’m gone.

Gone; I really didn’t think I would last this long. If someone would have asked me on 1/1, I would not have guessed I’d be here now.  Half the point of walking out into a desert in the middle of nowhere was the sullen hope that my body might not be found. That was my last hope- not that I would live, not that I would succeed, only that other’s might not know how badly I’d failed.

My closest friend I had told how I felt, how my mind felt- that I wasn’t me, that I wasn’t all of me, that I couldn’t think, that I couldn’t see the ends of my own sentences much less the end of my thoughts. I couldn’t think, couldn’t do math, couldn’t imagine the dimensional space that I occupied. The only person that ever believed I was a genius (before or after the Mensa test,) wasn’t worried that I no longer was. “Well, now you’re just as smart as everyone else, that’s good, right?”

How much did he, or anyone, know me (or should  the question here be “like me”) enough to notice I wasn’t the same anyone?

I miss the simplicity in which I thought this year. I suppose it was the pain that held me back, prevented me from being me this year. It’s easier to see in hindsight, of course. The last good deep thought I had was over six weeks ago now.

How do I think more now- yet now I’m back to shallow thought of a million things- Ukraine is on the TV to my left, they need more guns to keep fighting their fight, their presidential acting President is good for his role. Ahead of me a table of co-eds. I can hear them giggle and talk as the look around the room; their words are dimmed, yet much can be gleaned from the volume and the direction of their stares. Behind me, a lunch worker cleans her station as she waits for the next rush of students into the cafeteria.

I could sit here, still and statuey all day long. Well fed and minimal pain – why move? What could be better than this? Of course, now being out here in the world, I have to move along as it moves. Thirty five minutes until the Government class starts. I wonder if the teacher will teach today- of if she’ll see me and bite her lip again.

I could go home. Last day before the Thanksgiving break, my absence would not be noticed. My dog would appreciate seeing me more than my next teacher.

Have heard back from the first attorneys, now moving to start the Florida case. The proof is in the pudding, or in my case, the proof is in my pelvis: a broken drill bit. With the other issues that caused (missing the MRI’s that would have revealed my impending brain damage,) I’ll be paid. I suppose that is good. It’s nice.

So what then? Pay off my house, okay. Buy a new car? Nah, I like the one I have. Put all the bills back onto an auto-pay plan so I never have to see bills for the rest of my life, okay. Then what?

I could call someone and tell them… tell them what? It’s okay now, I’ve got money? Oddly- and worthy of much more thought- I’ve managed pretty well for going on two years will no income. Food, water, electricity and a bit of gasoline… I haven’t gone without anything I needed and I’ve found I don’t need nearly as much as I thought.

I guess I didn’t need a family to survive, I made it here without them.

There is no one here to tell: it’s okay now, I made it, it doesn’t hurt anymore.

My dog likes walking, up to three per day now.

What now?

Get a hobby, go to school, learn stuff, do something…

Do I just entertain myself now while I wait for my natural death?

Now, now do I write more? The last “deep thought” I had (and no the answer was not 43,) was simply that the world is round and that each and every person is on top of the world from their own perspective. I had asked a person, if they had the cure for COVID circa early 2020, would they give it away for the goodness of the world, or would they sell it?  They wanted to say they would give it away (how nice,) yet I continued to ask if they would trade it for only the one thing they always wanted (a trip to Paris.) They person could not answer the quandary.

Is there even an answer? Could anyone “give” away the answer, the cure, even if they had it. What would be their time or cost involved- let’s be silly: even if the answer was “rub your belly and pat your head at the same time”, how would the answer be disseminated? What is the cost to share an idea with the world?

Now, that thought was only about COVID.. yet on the same lines, now I think about any general bit of information. What if I had the answer for humanity? What if in my pain I found the resolution of Catholism and Americanism and Skydiverism… and all I had to do now was give it away. Could I?  Would I just write it here on my blog and wait for the world to see it?

Okay, there are some words for the day… maybe I’ll write more later.  Maybe I’ll wait a week or a year.

Who know’s anymore.


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