Contemporaneous: Chapters 77 – 79
77. I drive home, shaken, wondering how this has splashed back onto Autumn. There’s a cost to coming back. It’s happened repeatedly. Luca might say thought defines reality, and maybe I can extrapolate how my thinking has determined how each cycle has unfolded, but there was no line of thinking about this, about having Autumn forgetting me. This is punishment. It has to be. For taking my own life. This is purgatory. Surely. I try to squelch that thinking, because it’s fatalistic, and fatalism has got me in this mess. Each time I’ve tried to sort it out, I’ve found a new mess. Now I’d give everything up to fix…
Contemporaneous: Chapters 73 – 74
73. I don’t sleep well, but it’s not because of typical sleep troubles, but because I’m excited to get the week underway. When did I last feel like this? I can’t remember – not specifically. I was once like this, but that excitement and anticipation congealed into the mire that’s made everything so arduous. No more, though. I begin to catalogue what I need to do. Autumn. She’s the first stop. I want, I need to tell her my news. And not because I’m boasting, but because there’s a purity to her happiness – she’ll genuinely feel good for me, and there’s something about, some validation that I’ve never experienced…