The Next Life

Tomorrow, the black morning,
I close the door
In the face of the dead years.
I will go on the road,
Bum my way
Over land and sea,
From the Old to the New World.

-Boris Vian, Le Déserteur

I was thinking about this story last night, just before I drifted off to sleep. I first read it years and years ago, but like all good stories, it remains fresh and alive in my mind, even today.

I won't tell you the details because they aren't important, and I won't give you the backstory because it would take more time than it's worth. But there were these two characters talking, and they hadn't spoken in a long time, and they were probably never going to speak again. Like most conversations, one person did the lion's share of the talking, the other mostly listened. After some time, when everything that needed to be said was said, the first one began to walk away. And as he did he stopped and turned and simply stated "Sometimes it's best to move on."

And for my life, I swear to you, I secretly always believed that he was really talking to me.

Nothing's ever easy, is it? Or quick, or painless. Still, if you want something bad enough, you have to try. I've wanted this my whole life.

Sometimes it's best to move on.