TEN YEARS FROM NOW by Matt Holmes

IT HAS BEEN A GOOD TEN YEARS 

'''Hello. Here I am again. This is Matt by the way. It is ten years later from when you first closed the chronicles of my life, and I am sure you have many questions for me. Yes, of course, I relapsed if that was your question. But MORE ABOUT THAT LATER. Now for the other ones. Well, I am a “manager” of Simon’s Home (get it?) which is a place for children with special needs to go draw. Remember, I love to draw. Well, my mother (my other partner) thought that teaching was coming back to her and I wanted to do something in memory of Simon. How did I get the money? I sold some book that became pretty popular and I was considered the British counterpart of Salinger. Yeah, yeah, yeah. But the money is alright I suppose. I have plenty of money, so I go out and buy Nicorette instead of smokes. Nanny Noo is dead and I miss her dearly. I am tearing up already. Dad is good, jolly again. Everyone is well. STOP READING OVER MY SHOULDER, ANNABELLE. Oh, right I got married too. But that is coming up in my sequel. The un-published Holden Caulfield: Part Two. And now to answer the question from before… Am I still, loony, half brained, crazy, mentally deranged? Yes. Well, sort of. I relapsed of course. But I have not in the last six years. I got my act together. One day, I went out to buy some cigarettes and found an abandoned doll on the street corner. It was all sad and on its lonesome, so I picked it up and had what all those doctors and psychoanalysts call a medical breakthrough. An epiphany, you regulars call. I realized that Simon was gone. And Simon will never come back since the shock of the fall. But the thing is… the thing is Simon will always be with me. I came to terms with my schizophrenia. Yes, I hear voices. Or one voice for that matter. Don’t get all emotional or disapproving of me now, I am not crazy. (Good God, I went to enough therapists to be cleared for the “workforce.”) I hear one voice, and it’s Simon’s. And now for some reason, in some existential way, I can hear him… And I know he probably can’t hear me, but that is okay. It is okay. I am not falling anymore. Sure, I am still all wild but I am not fallen. I have picked myself up from the fall. I am flying. Oh, and yes, I am using a typewriter right now.'''