Of course I could fake it. Fruit cake fake it. Make my thoughts here seem like my life is full of amazing irony and stunning allergories.

Lie. Lie to me. Lie to you.

And someone would probably still read it. I would probably still write it, although I'd go absolutely insane with trying to remember exactly who I was or am.

Because, truthfully, no one really truly cares that I bought a for a new, hunter green linen suit on sale but still paid too much, and what the fuck color is hunter green anyway? And I saw a woman who graduated last year from my alma mater in the bookstore (where, again, I spent too much) and I squinted at each shadow of her belly because it was just round enough to be pregnant. Menstruating, my fertile radar was humming.

But don't tell me whether or not I should quit.

One thing I should note is that I understand the Higher Purpose of why my parents have opposing view points about J. Their subtle coldness toward him and our relationship is to help me break away more easily from them.

Ultimately, it's all my decision.