Bleakness
Would I change a thing? I guess not, when it comes down to it. Well, not at the juncture that was presented to me.
It was really strange. Here I was, spacing out in histology, when all of a sudden, I think of my aunt’s old house in Milpitas. I know exactly when it was, too, the summer of 1998, perhaps the bleakest time of my life so far. All I could do was count the things I had lost: I had no future, and I had no one who loved.
Two people have compared me to Sydney Carton, the doomed hero of Dickens’s A Tale of Two Cities. I don’t know if this has been a warped inspiration to drink [heavily].
But I’d rather be Louis-Ferdinand Céline [without the rabid anti-Semitism, at least]. But this beside the point.