It was like being thrust out of an airplane when one of the side doors opens up. It was easy to look the part. It was part of my aesthetic – part of my inheritance that got me by. What most had to earn, I found one day in my lap. It’s funny how you treasure something less when you didn’t have to pay for it at all. It seems replaceable. Once the airplane doors were off, I found myself on the couch next to my mom. It’s funny how the word gets around in a small town. Or at least I blamed it on that. Maybe it was because a few people really cared. But I could only see that from where I stand now. What I thought was passing was now immortalized. What I thought was done in the dark, finally found it’s way out into the light. It was only a matter of time. I knew things never stay hidden. It’s funny the things your mom knows even when you think she doesn’t.