The stories we shouldn't tell...

As the people who adore you stop adoring you; as they die and wither into a void of darkness, devout of mind or matter; as they move on, and write stories which hold no mention of you; as you shed them, leave them behind as they left you; as you shed your beauty; your youth; as the world slowly starts forgetting all you once were; as you recognise your transience; as you begin to lose your characteristics one by one; as you learn there is no-one watching you, and there never was. When such a time arrives you shall think only about driving - not coming from any place; not arriving any place. Just driving, counting off time. Now you are here, now you are there, now you are gone. This is everyone's story, the specifics hardly matter. You are all Karr and I am all you. All my meagre sadness is yours; all my loneliness; my brown, thick hair; my red raw hands. They are yours to help you feel connected, something to make you feel all right, something to make you feel loved, something to make you feel whole.