I’m not sure I even remember who I used to be.
At some point, everything just sort of fell by the wayside, friends, hobbies, interests. I used to have a girlfriend. Do I still have a girlfriend?
I really ought to look into that.
I’ve never been more checked-out at work in my life, it’s a wonder I’ve still got a job.
But moreover, I’ve watched myself, the part of me that I consider Me, chipped away, piece by piece, judged and found unnecessary to the task at hand, until all I have left, all that I am, is hands on a keyboard, eyes on a screen, and the worlds I’ve created inside my own mind.
Worlds of words, in which I am the undisputed master.
Because I’m done. I’m finished my draft.
Thirty-one days, fifty thousand words.
A victory well earned.
And now: To try and pick up the pieces of my shattered social life and psyche, and see if I can put them back together again…