Visited

—Sometimes, late at night, visited by dread and shame…

—I lie in bed and think of somebody else’s life.

—I imagine the love that they’re getting… and the relief that comes from being really known. The private plasures they share.

—The friends they have, and the pressures they don’t. Their sense of importance… The satisfaction of their work. I imagine how fullfilled they are… How rich their life is.

—And in these moments, I feel empty and wanting.