On Welcoming Committees

I want to tear my life apart, dissolve it in alcohol and tell everything I ever considered precious to go to goddamn hell. I've been a decent person. I've gone out of my way to avoid hurting anyone and what the fuck has it ever got me. All the decisions I've made over the last ten years were the ones I thought I could be proud of and the sum of it all is that I'm going to be left holding my cock in my hand. I wish I could start this life again. I wish I could take another road.

I'm not in the least bit suicidal and you know why ... the thing that really gives me room for thought ? Who's going to welcome me on the other side. I'm sure I'll get the generic greeters with a plastic smile on their face and a weak sweaty handshake. Because all the women that were most meaningful to me in my life decided not to stick around and what does that leave me with ... no one but the goddamn welcoming committee and a fucking fruit basket. To hell with them. Sigh.

"But other than that Ms. Lincoln, how was the play ?"