I’m 45 years old and what have I done? Everything and nothing.
Died. More times than I care to count. They always manage to bring me back to life.
But have I done what I truly want?
Have I reaped the benefits of a wealthy childhood? Have I earned my parents coveted pride?
I don’t need to reach into the silence to hear an overwhelming “no!”.
And here I am, sliding away on stolen booze in a ships cargo hold.
I plan to be good and drunk by time they find me. Maybe this time they won’t save me.