“I’ll see you in the morning.’ said Marge the night before last and that was when the full impact of what this move means, hit me like. Because I realized, there won’t be any more mornings – yesterday was the last one – where she was able to do that. I’ve left much more than a large selection of cunningly shaped walls, ceilings – some of which leak – and a chandelier. Those are just things, and the thing about these things is that they’ll be replaced by other things, Maybe not as big, but hopefully not as leaky either.
People – despite Elon Musks crazed fantasies – can’t. Marge has been part of my life for over twenty years. We’ve been housemates in three houses, so she knew me before my accident. I can’t stress enough how important this detail is; when so many ‘friends’ have disappeared; those who remain attain an even greater significance, given its just her and Nosferatu. She has stuck by me when she could so easily have walked away, thinking, ‘I don’t need this, I’ve got problems of my own to deal with, I don’t need to help you deal with some of yours.’ Instead of which, and in so many ways, she’s attempted to help me help myself, and if the results haven’t been as successful as she might have hoped, the blame for that is mine.
People who meet me now get the version of me that has had niceness foisted upon me, a version that’s more of an extreme immersive improvisation. Not the original and best version, the one who used sarcasm to such a vicious effect that more then fourty people who worked with him signed a petition complaining that he was rude and offensive, the one who – and I’m quoting Marge here – ‘was like Eddie Izzard on speed’ when he wanted to be and the one who when he said he didn’t care what people thought about him, really meant it. The version of me that didn’t – because he couldn’t – wake up from the coma
So her saying that was something I’d never consciously taken on board before, I mean I’d briefly thought about it, but amidst the welter of other things to get done, it didn’t register. However, all the things that needed doing have been done, and there remain no other distractions with which to occupy my mind.
So since not even the planes have started flying o’clock, my mind has been considering her words, all its many implications, and wlth all of its many unknowns. And these were what were bothering me most at shitting crikey o’clock the other morning; because they’re unknown, the mind can create an infinite variety of them, some, none or all of which might come to pass.
And for a variety of good reasons, there hasn’t been enough time to discuss all of this, and with me having left yesterday, it was unfortunately the case that all the things that have been unsaid will remain unsaid. Today is the start of a new part of my life, one without her in it; or rather her not being as in it as much I’m used to her being in it.