I am so happy to be finished with you.
For too long now, you have been a constant preoccupation. You kept me from doing things, interfered with work. There were days I would get out of bed and then not get dressed, all day long.
Because of you.
You would keep me up at night.
Worse, sometimes you would wake me from a sound sleep.
That's how you always were.
But now I am finished with you.
You can go now, and I will go my own way too.
I woke up this morning and realized something.
This is what I realized:
I used to be a boxer.
One summer, around the time when I was 21 or 22 years old, I took off, with all my clothes stuffed in a backpack and a one-way ticket to Italy. After spending a month alone, camping in Yugoslavia, one morning I woke up and something finally dawned on me.
What I realized was this: I did not have two black eyes and did not groan when I stood up in the morning. There was not dried blood in my nose.
It was a real epiphany.
That is how I felt this morning.
It is October 17 and I am not writing.
Goodbye, stupid 105,000-word-long goddamned novel.
I am finished with you.
