The day is getting on. I have to go. I have my wallet, though there’s nothing much in my account. No driver’s license, and who knows where my birth certificate is? Keeping my legs steady as I walk down the stairs is more urgent than thinking about that, though. Downstairs I have another look around but there’s nothing it makes sense to take. If I have nothing, no one will believe I’m a real person. Never mind, I have to go.

Outside I stand back a little, plant my feet, and look out to the horizon. The wind laughs in my face. The surprising thing is the beauty of the view, the way the sun cuts through the tears that won’t stop coming, the sun like a flamethrower, like an incinerator. The beyond—there’s just so much of it I can’t believe I’m still breathing. I look down and see the rip in the earth, the gash with some wires and roots and pipes jutting out toward the sea, arms that have lost what they were holding.

More noise rises to meet my ears. If it’s another slip, I could just stay put. My first and last big decision as an adult. And then no more. I only have a second, so I think fast.

You know something’s a stupid question when the answer pops up just about the same second the question forms. Like: What’s the difference between a promise and a lie? Just an age difference, that’s all.

And when the question and answer form at the same time, you’re just panicking is all, making mental lists of things you already know. It’s not the same as thinking.

Like:

They’re never coming back—

it’s not the same as going down with the ship—

sure people would care, but not many and not much—

oh God, oh God.

Maybe people believe in God because it gives them something to picture. I even go in for it, kind of. Why wouldn’t God be some old-ass Santa lookalike, a fat white fuck on his stupid cloud island? It means that if there was a God, he’d have actual balls you could really kick him in and a face to slap and scream in. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do! Do you hear me, motherfucker? You’ve got a lot of fucking explaining to do!”

People believe in God because you can try your best and do everything you’re supposed to and nothing happens. God’s the sense that real life doesn’t make. People believe in God because life is malicious.

“You’re doing this to me on purpose!”

Alone in front of the sea and the rocks with my house falling down, I scream my throat to pulp.