Acceptance

I am dead. My heart beats but alas there is no rhythm, no purpose.

The world expects rational responses for abstract nouns. 

Proving myself mentally stable is no longer necessary, no longer important - or worthwhile.  I have spent the past fifteen years surviving, keeping up my sane appearance - maintaining my balance.  I remained upright. 

Has it helped? Does it help anyone?

My mask has slipped - I let it fall.

I find myself in a slipping-down life of my own construction.

Oh, dear Anne Tyler.