."...I have to do this now.

Now before I get to old.

Now.

Before years of self doubt coil around my heart like some evil primordial snake. It squeezes the last bit of self and breath I have left. I'm here in the dark. In my bed with the sound of someone next to me. Snoring. Why I'm here I don't know. He's nice enough. He doesn't beat me and if I'm sick or hungry or both he'll at least notice if I'm alive. But that life he recognizes, the one where I'm breathing in the biological sense? At this moment  it doesn't feel very much like being alive does. If I don't get up out of this bed and do something quick my body might be alive but my spirit ,maybe lost...."

From Life a Work in Progress by c anne ford

all rights reserved by the author.

"... The air here is so hot and muggy that you drink it.  Nothing is moving but the cars that go one by one  through the gate and out of the cemetery. It was the last funeral she'd go to. She'd promised  herself that. There's be no more death that she'd recognize...."

From Life a Work in Progress by c anne ford

"...

In 30 years there are

--- days

--- seconds.

On day 4000, she'd eaten a baloney sandwich and drunk 2 bottles of pop.
By day 4500, she'd drunk another 200 bottles of pop and a bottle or two of tequila.
By day 5000, she'd drunk enough to convince herself that jumping off Chimney Rock was a good life decision.

By day 6000, the folks in rehab told her that maybe- just maybe- she'd have the use of her legs but there'd always be something wrong with her left arm.

By day 6500?
She'd decided enough was enough.

All they found at the bridge was a note and a half empty root beer.

"Sorry for the littering." she'd written, "but it just seemed trivial. I think you'll understand."

...'