I received a letter today–that itself
a rare occurrence–that read:You should
have never existed. We can help.
I wrote back immediately that I
heartily concurred and was ready
to erase myself throughout time:
no birth in a small hospital in Alabama,
no present in the sweltering suffocation
of southern Georgia, and no future anywhere.
The reply came two agonizing months later,
and this time the letter said: We no longer
believe you’re a good fit for our program,
and you may continue to exist, however
pointless that may seem. Best of luck to you.
I toss the letter across the room, and I will
soon forget about it as the world will one
day forget about me, though I’d been hopeful
for a brief moment I could hasten the process.