Childish Things. I find myself today thinking of childish things. I used to know everything. I cannot put a finger on when it was that I knew so much. My mind or the muse that sometimes whispers to me says it was when I was twenty-two. Maybe. It must have been around that time that I topped Pompous Mountain.
I know far less now. I know well that by the time I was twenty-four, everything that I believed I had known with such certainty had become suspect.
I remember coming apart. Everything looked fine on the outside, or close to it. But I was coming apart. At least a few people who knew me and loved me could see it and held onto me in whatever ways they could. I am grateful for them.
Continue reading “Day Three”