because this is the life that is…until it isn’t

The day you die isn't going to be something crazy or really life shattering for anyone aside from a splattering of friends, maybe some family invested in your existence. It's going to be the last day you took a shit, took a shower, fucked your husband or wife and took that last drive to work. It's probably not going to be anything particularly monumental, and very few of us will get any remembrance past the first few months or days after our passing. Whatever shadows we leave in terms of the people who grieve us get past things, as people do.

I suppose in many ways this knowledge fuels a certain anonymity in my existence. I rarely share much about myself or my life, aside from a few witticisms, no selfies and really just a terrible disdain for the world. I am trying to siphon that energy off and be happy with the outcomes of things, but is is getting harder when the world isn't playing along exactly fair.

We get fucked over. And by we I mean Don, which in turn means We. I feel every punch to his ego, every flooring of his hope. I feel he wants to ...