Everyone in This Room Will Someday Be Dead

I guess this is why Catholics teach that suicide is a sin. They were running out of priests.

Before I even knew the word ‘gay,’ I knew I was gay.

I’ve got it all figured out. We’re a parasite. Other animals on this planet coexist with nature. We don’t; we’re like scabies. Tiny mites covering the outer layer of earth, burrowing into it, infecting it. We are like tapeworm

I felt like I was never in the moment I was in. I was always looking back, or
worried about the future

Everyone in this room has managed to grow old despite how easy it is to die.

She beams. “Of course I remember the things you say.”

I feel strangely derailed by this gesture. The image of Eleanor committing something I said offhand to her memory, spending her money, and gifting me this makes me feel, for some reason, heartbroken.

I find it so bizarre that I occupy space, and that I am seen by other people. I feel like I am falling through space and Eleanor just threw me a rose. It’s such a sweet, pointless gesture. It would be less devastating
to fall through space alone, without someone else falling next to me. Whenever someone does something nice for me, I feel intensely aware of how strange and sad it is to know someone.

Eli’s answer is: “Grandma.”

I feel oddly calmed by Eleanor’s presence. The heat from her body is warming up the bed. Her breathing and snoring is lulling me to sleep.