You are your life.
The wizard told me that.
You are your life.
I repeated it to myself every five minutes or so. If I were my life then I was falling into pieces. If I were my life then … then there was no one responsible for me. The one responsible was leaving. He was leaving.
“I am my life” I would repeat to myself every five minutes or so. “I am my life” I would think as I looked for an apartment, handled bank accounts and fixing phone lines. “I am my life” I thought as I went over what money I had to see if I could live, on my own.
I am my life.
“I am my life” I repeated to myself every hour or so, then a few times a day, then once, as the strewn pieces of me rearranged themselves into a new patters — no, as I rearranged them into the new pattern. For I was the pieces, and I was the pattern as well.
I am my life, I thought, as my life opened and became just what I wanted it to be. Of course it did — it was me, after all. “I am my life” I thought as clients flocked to me and money flew and I quit my job and could work at home in my pajamas, just like I always dreamed I would.
“I am my life” I thought when my husband said he loves me and does not want to leave.
“I am my life” I thought as I realized, for the very first time, that it does feel really good to be alive.
