I’m on a freight train headed downhill without brakes. The train is picking up additional freight, speed, and momentum. I’m not alone. I see faces of other passengers, I hear their screams, and I feel their fear. The engineer bailed out at the last stop. Spectators line both sides of the tracks. I see their faces. I hear their criticism and I feel their disapproval.
I let my body store more than it spends. I’m ashamed. I’m sorry. I’m sick. I’m tired. I’ve given in and given up. I’m going the wrong direction. I’ve fallen, and I can’t get up! This situation is hopeless. No one can help. I’m fat.
The end is near. I wrote it. It’s a sad ending. I’m sad, because I like happy endings more than sad ones. Either way, this is going to be messy.
I’m at another crossing. I want to rewrite the ending. You’re welcome to join me, either as a spectator or a passenger.