Weakerthan what?

I slept badly last night, my body dive-bombed by insects and my mind addled by drugs. I have been smoking more than usual, saving up for next year when it will be a dead habit. Thankfully, I must say, since I won't binge-eat while stoned. My morning was trans-Atlantic phone calls and preparation, as I sliced my thumb open cutting onions, and wandered up to the bus stop applying pressure. External pressure was a change, the sensation of losing sensation as I forcibly ended the flow of oxygen. Left and Leaving is my latest morning soundtrack.

And it is another Monday at the orifice, coffee, tea, email. Taking time, missing things, my body begging for sleep. Shhh, shhhh body, I'll take you home soon. My weekend culminated in too many thoughts, my memories of this city finally overwhelming me. The strange familiarity of these streets. I drove home on Saturday, past the school,and slowed to glance inside. As if somehow the darkness could prove to me that I was really gone. I told Numoy that I sometimes wondered if the last four years of my life were all a dream, a figment of my over-active imagination. The only time that I know they were real is when I grasp for old emotion. It is so far gone. And as memories of those halls, the smell, the teal laminate floor tiles. Early mornings finishing my math homework and taking off early afternoons. Old friends I will never see again, others I keep meaning to find. How old am I? And suddenly I felt so old, so far away, and wondered, "if I feel this way now, how will I feel at forty? Fifty?" Time is a strange thing. I pulled into the garage and turned off the engine, and listened to the song on the radio wear itself thin. An old tune, reminiscent of another life.