Not living—yet.
Not dead—yet.
Doing very well, thank you—people like to hear that.
I get up. I work. I create things. What am I complaining about?
It’s a good life, anyone would say.
I don’t lie around and weep.
I don’t muck in the mud and debris.
I don’t ask anyone for help.
I take care of myself.
I take care of things.
I take care not to pay too much attention to the fact
that I am lost,
wandering aimlessly.
Not dead—yet.
Not living—yet.
