I sit here staring at the ceiling as emptiness falls out of me, only to be replaced with more emptiness; a trick only emptiness knows how to pull.
Someone asked me recently, “is everything going to be alright in this world?”
A question that, when asked out of context, begins to itch.
So, I asked three people.
The first was my brother, I’ll call him The Realist because, that’s what he is.
“No,” he said.
Then, I asked my friend, The Comedian, she said, “didn’t god tell you?”
I laughed, she didn’t.
So third, I asked God, The Apathiest.
He lives in the attic.