Artificial Sunshine

Well, here I am, six months later.

It's been six months to the day. I'm still here and much the better for it. 

My six-month anniversary of life is heralded by iron skies and dubious weather. The clouds can't hold it in, so my hair's a wreck. I have a voice lesson today. I spent all last night getting drunk off my ass and trolling around Allentown looking for Starbucks and lost cigarettes. 

     Nobody knows what day it is, except me. But that's enough. 

     There is no sunshine today unless I make it. Whether or not a smile still holds power when it's forced remains to be seen. But I'm feeling ok today, and I wonder what the next six months will be like. The next six years. Will I buy a new car? Will I get married? Will I write the song that's going to make me famous? Or will I still be fucking around at Starbucks? Will I ever move out of my parents' house (please, please, please)? Will I go somewhere really neat on vacation? Will I hit that fucking jump on my snowboard and actually land it? Will I feel pretty? Will I take dance classes? Will anybody dance with ME? Will I start drawing again? Will I hit a high A without sounding like a drowning cat in a toaster being steamrolled by a hippopotamus?

     I have gained 20lbs since January...taking me from 98 to 118. I have a BMI of 15. My hair isn't blonde anymore...it's the sub-standard shit-brown I was born with. I have changed. 
     My kidneys are still fucked. My legs are still shot. I still like tshirts with pictures of food on them. I am the same. 

     No matter what happens, though, I'm still Ness. And I'm still alive. 

Hang on, 
Ness