I get out of treatment late, and the sun has already gone down, the days growing shorter. The gloom before the street lights turn on after dusk above the slate sidewalks of Brooklyn, leaves me feeling nostalgic for my friends, the ones I had back in high school and college, and all the dreams we had before the inevitable slide into middle age and mediocrity, with nothing more to show for our time than a mountain of debt and a sense of creeping dissatisfaction that leaves us aching and empty....
Wait: I just got done with treatment for the day, and I'm tired and hungry, and my leg is sore like it's got a stomach ache.
I take a deep breath, keep walking, and stop searching my perfectly decent life for reasons to be bummed out.
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