Having only met me after I have died
Maybe you can see me, the real me from this story, having only met me after I have died. I was real once, had a pulse, felt love, breath, and the raised goose bumps of a special moment. I lived. This me you may have come to know, this thing I became after…well you know, or maybe you don’t, dying takes a lot out of you.
I live in Toledo Oregon. Beautiful little town, quaint, rustic, and I definitely would have left ten years ago if not for my wife.
Am I supposed to do that? This whole dying thing has got me all fucked up. Am I supposed to talk about things like they are in the here and now? I know you won’t read this until after I am dead. Is this one of those places where there is an unspoken rule that says no referring to things in the present tense you dead fuck you’ll make them uncomfortable? Here is the other question, who the fuck are you to hold that over me, I’m dead you dick, don’t you think I deserve a free pass from the guilt train?........................................
I just wanted to through a teaser out there...I may post this as a cereal, or not, I'm not sure yet.
Chris McQueeney 12/2/11 1:23AM