I am impetuous given to the pendulum. To the rise and fall of dire instincts. I live in the wreck of an immanent collision. Spontaneity poisons when imbibed too liberally. I am all or nothing. Either on or off. I’ve never tasted independence despite a penchant for rebellion. I’m selfish and impotent. I’ve never trusted myself knowing that at any moment I might hasten my journey and meet a preternatural end. To go from nothing to necessitous, it’s a process. I don’t want to think exclusively in terms of “if” If I was healthy I might have a house, a job, a cat, summer vacations. If I was healthy I might not spend all day casting withering glances at the moon.