So I’m driving home and all of the sudden my iPod starts playing “Dreams” by Fleetwood Mac, and the lyrics just hit me:
Loneliness like a heartbeat, drives you mad, in the stillness of remembering what you had, and what you lost.
And as I move stuff out of my parents’ house, I’m sifting through scattered fragments of the last twenty years of my life, and I’m thinking of all the missed chances (and how many of those chances are just in my head?) and I’m trying to come to grips with the fact that this is my life now, and this is probably it until the end. There’s no point in hoping for more. Random chance is all I’ve got.
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