I don’t wanna grow up …

Toys ‘R’ Us said it best. “I don’t wanna grow up.”

Getting old is harder than sterling silver dipped in liquid nitrogen.  I often find myself staring into the deep gray abyss of the twilight and wondering if this is it. If life exists to simply amass a small fortune, raise a family and perish – leaving behind a legacy if you’re lucky, but more often than not, generally fading away like a solar system that’s lost it’s sun.

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Vignette II

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“I am so over meth,” she exclaimed, without a hint of irony.

Her teeth, occasionally radiant but mostly dulled and frayed from years of foreign deposits inhaled, shone semi-bright in the glimmer of the two-p.m. sun. It was brisk, but not chilly. She was warm, but still cruel.

Neither of us had desk-jobs, so we were free to meander and dip in-and-out of epiphany as we saw fit during working hours. She draped herself in a grey cardigan with cigarette burn-marks tied haphazardly around her neck.

“How could someone work so hard to accomplish so little?” Continue reading