my mom used to talk to me after she died. she doesn't anymore. or, she hasn't in so long i can't remember the last time. i miss her. my brain uses the opportunity to whisper in my ear that her silence is judgement. i've got no reason to disbelieve that. i've been alive more years without her than i had with. i'm not yet as old as she was when she left. inside me, i carry what killed her. it lays in wait. dormant. biding time. i've left no uncertainty with my doctors that i don't want treatment. they imply i'm being stupid. stubborn. i could be free of this demon within 18months. no worries of flare-ups that could be fatal. if i eradicate it, i'll be getting rid of something she gave me. i miss her that much.
i went shopping for new glasses frames. i haven't gotten new glasses in a while. the woman helping me was cute. my friend said she was flirting with me. i reminded her that she was trying to sell me something. she wasn't flirting. she was selling. women don't flirt with me. i don't blame them. i wouldn't flirt with me either. unless i wanted something. i need a drink.