I have the drive to stay awake tonight, but I won’t. I’m restless. Woke up early on my day off to take the new kitten to the vet, make sure all is well with him. I let Wilson get a good whiff of him. He wasn’t having it. I’ll give him a while to get used to the idea.

Back to work tomorrow. School begins hardcore for a full month. I get to be irritated and ignore everyone I know for 30 days. Many will thank me for that (I’m being facetious).

I think a girl at work has a crush on me. She told me my inability to speak is endearing. I think she just loves being the only one having a conversation.

Melissa is dying. I remember she and my mom were friends back in high school, and they both had kids around the same time. Some of my earliest memories were of being at her house, her cooking some Cajun food, me playing with Sport and his little brother and sister. I remember a Steve Urkel doll we hid in the closet because it was obnoxious. I remember staying up until 5 in the morning because no one told us we couldn’t. I remember one Christmas my dad refused to get us Halloween costumes, so Melissa made us ghosts out of sheets and sent us on our way. I also remember my mom telling me she was certain that my father had fucked around with her, and they both were hiding it. I was never certain what to think of her.

Now I hear she has liver cirrhosis. She wasn’t an alcoholic, per se. But she was diabetic, had hepatitis, and didn’t take good care of herself. For a while, she was addicted to painkillers so she put her liver through hell. My aunt told me the doctors said she won’t live until the end of this year. She’s 46.

It’s depressing for anyone to die so young, I don’t care who they are. Sometimes I have my days where I don’t give a fuck about a lot of things, but I don’t want to think that all of those bad days will ultimately add up to me dying before the age of 50. Her kids don’t care about her. Her family is all gone. She’s determined to just die at this point.

I hear she’s selling her house to move up north to live out her days. That’s how bad it is already. I couldn’t bring myself to see her, no matter how much I liked her when I was younger. Does that make me an asshole?

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