And so it ends...

...worse than it started. I'd never have guessed.

I am Jack's

memory figment of what once was.

The Sweater

It doesn't fit. It's ugly and oddly uncomfortable. It feels more like a restraining jacket, really. The tag itches and scratches the back of my neck, and not for single moment in time I can forget I'm wearing it. Can't cut it off either, because I want to take it back to the store. I have stepped inside it countless times now, only to pretend to be looking around for nothing in particular.

The woman in the counter... she is daunting. She smiles and waves everytime she sees me come in and despite not knowing if that's just part of her job, every atom in me starts crashing against each other causing chemical reactions identical to those of when I first got an old sweater I had... but that one, it fit perfectly. Warm and cozy.

Houdini and a bunch of others pulled it off. I have no idea if I'll ever be able to.

But I do know I'll die trying.

Checklist #1

All the time in the world to be by myself. Check.
No talking unless I want to. Check.


So glad I can cross those off. So, so glad.

Careful what you wish for.

Auto-retrato

displicência
(latim displicentia, -ae, desgosto, descontentamento)

s. f.

1. Qualidade ou estado do que é displicente.

2. Desgosto, desprazer, dissabor.

3. Qualidade do que é insípido ou sensabor.

4. Negligência, desleixo, desinteresse.

Tentativo

Agregado desassossegado.
Diário temerário.
Constante inquientante.

Pearl

When a tree falls and there's no one around to hear it, it does not make a sound.