Hard day.

It like cave cats thought. Who am I? Really, who am I? This science fiction, looking myself in mirror, it odd. I have body. Therefore I am. I exist. I exist by gosh. I exist. Does any one or any thing on earth know I exist? In this moment, at this exact moment, do they think of me? Do other earthlings think of me? Could earthlings, say an old friend from my tortured youth perhaps, be driving down a highway at this very instant, after a brief day dream of the planned roast potato dinner be asking themselves: I wonder what Sallie Brown is doing at this exact second, this exact second on planet earth? Are her coordinates still that small little hamlet with the overgrown New England trees like rainforest? Is she breathing? Is she living on day after day, getting by with little? Or a lot? Too much, even? Is she sipping cool water from a freshly cleaned bowl? Or is she sleeping, on that makeshift bed claimed on an old church pew, with the 5 o'clock sun peeking through her transparent ears? Veins and all?

I see I exist. I see that I exist. But I worried today for the first time in my entire life about me and not him. Do you see those wrinkles? It bad. It horrible? My jowls are many. The sagging is so bad it hurts. I can feel the bulk of the fat in my heart. It break heart. That it. Life over. There it go, the extravagance, the wedding proposals --- into the town dump and ignited -- its ashes evaporated by eternity's hungry appetite. Bette Davis right went she said "Old age is no place for sissies." I take this advice with stride. I not let my 40's be a decade of hell. Older actresses are still getting work, so I have to try and relax. Try.