Cell-Mate

All of the best made plans completely unfurled. A massive disconnect in language and culture in the midst of possibly the worst news possible on the other side of the planet away from all of my friends and family a head above the rest. Primal. Survival. All under a shroud of secrecy and vagueness. Is this really me? Can I handle the truth? Confirmation. Twice. Thrice. The shred of possibility the size of a grain of sand is now luminous and volatile and I will have to climb this Mt. Everest and live to tell about it. I hope to capture some amazing photographs along the way. It's not cold though. I hope I don't catch a cold. What happens when I catch a cold? It could turn into pneumonia. I could die. I am going to die. I am going to die, eventually. The blatant humility and humanity in the finality of the miracle of life is death's blessing. Here is a list of thousands of other deaths...seeeee? Smoking kills, but that's okay, right? Plus, some people make money off of it. I also don't drive with a seat-belt, drink too much, eat too much, work too much, think too much. Is this really me? Seriously? Seriously. It is serious. I am a Sirius person. A month later and I can write now. I first learned to speak. Before that I got on a merry-go-round like all of the kiddies: I'm lost, confused, sad, defiant, wishful, angry, nauseous, myself again, sarcastic, drunk, healthy, scared, upset, confident, honest, realistic, surprised, horny, positive+