Cheesesteaks and Soft Pretzels

He asks why I'm not blogging. Why not? Jesus, have you looked at my life lately? I'm deathly afraid to document it for fear that I'm actually going to have to face the facts at hand: we've sold our house and have no place to live; the homeowners' insurance paid nothing; my father is remarrying; he bought the girlfriend a house; I'm changing jobs; and I have no freakin' stability in my life. I'm terrified that one day I'm going to wake up and be drooling on myself in the corner of the bedroom after a well-deserved nervous breakdown. And during it all, I pretend that everything's fine, that I don't feel completely and utterly alone in the world, and that I'm perfectly capable of dealing with life as we know it. I still can't cry, and until I do I don't think I'll ever really be able to get over any of this.

And that's why I'm not blogging.