NEEDLING

A friend writes me a letter telling me she’s gotten married. I sit here not able to sleep, thinking about my pathetic little life working barely making ends meet not able to do anything else when all I want to do is get in my car and drive. Drive a long ways and stop somewhere where I’ve not ever stopped before. Who says I cannot? It’s been one year since I’ve been back in Texas from Paris, and what have I done... not much. I’ve paid rent, paid my taxes, paid the insurance companies, paid the electric bills and the gas bills, I’ve bought gasoline for my car, paid to change the oil, paid the interest on the car to the car dealer, I’ve been the dutiful son and have done all that was expected of me as a good citizen. I’ve worked hard, I’ve bought the books to learn to do my work even better, I’ve perceived no raise, no help, nothing. I’ve in one year done nothing but work and feed the machine, and yet today, I’m more than one thousand dollars in debt – which I wasn’t one year ago when I arrived – I have no savings, the chance of me owning property is little to none, and I see no light at the end of the tunnel. What’s better: not finding employment in France, being broke, but owing nothing, having some sort of security, aid if I need to go to the hospital... or being able to find work but making always just a little bit less than what’s needed to be ahead, having absolutely no job security, no medical aid, no security, but having the freedom to say I’ve had enough and I want to do something else, go somewhere else? I don’t know. Right now, I don’t know.