Building on Sand

A sketchy future is nothing to me.  Most days I try not to look ahead.  It is not some grand gesture of philosophic superiority but rather a stone cold fear of reality.  I do not have much.  I have a computer, I have an old car with hundreds of thousands of miles on it, I have two kids.  I live in someone else’s home.  For the moment I have work.  I am in a bit of a mad scramble to find more work, permanent work, before this job winds down.  I know I can do almost anything.  Someone might take a chance.  I cannot think that way though because that gives me hope where there really is none.  The broken bits of me are crumbling unable to be repaired.  They say time heals… all time does is erode. 

I will think good thoughts.  I will do good things.  But I have not been given a foundation of stone, I have been given millions upon billions of micro pebbles which shift in wind and pull you down to trap you in water. 

I so desperately want to break the curse laid upon me, if not for me then for my children. 


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