The Game

I’ve conceded to eating slop, trying to do normal things. “Make the bed!” the walls scream so you can sleep in it alone again. I laugh to myself. Talk to the cats like they understand a single word. I tell them, we’ll be okay, won’t we? Will we? Will we? Thirty-three years on this earth. I was once a child. My mother could protect me (the best she could). I remember her in hospital, recovering from an operation cancer cut from her lung. It was my birthday. I was given a PC game. My stepdad took me home. I tried to install it. The computer couldn’t run it. I was young. I sat alone and cried. The game never started. The screen was blank.