You'll feel different in the morning.

A couple of times my dad has told me this story about Hunter S. Thompson - about someone running into him after dark on a beach somewhere exotic. That he had a monkey on his shoulder - and that the monkey was drunker than he was. That is the line I always remember "the monkey was drunker than he was!". That and my dads take on it which was that - "he hadn't expected to see anyone on the beach" - and "that that was just who he was." A man inclined to consider a monkey as good a company as any and who lived without concern for who was watching. 

And so I am home now, among the wild greens and painfully alone, a lonely. And I will paint my lips and take the time to add spices to the things that I eat. I will speak aloud to my dog and light candles at night. I will think of you, yes - but won't live less a life without your audience. An audience of none, an audience of one, a heaven where we encounter our heroes and may become like them. A heaven where we live up to the expectations of those that we love, effortlessly. And when the yellow light sweeps across my desk to signify the night I will not feel afraid, not of another day slipping away or of the tall dark shadows that loom while I sleep.