Boring!

Boring is where legends go to die.

I miss my old life, before illness left me socially isolated and, to be honest, completely fucking boring. I miss hearing people scream my name when I walk in to wherever. I miss going out and having my drink waiting for me before I get to the bar. I miss not actually having to pay for my own drinks. I miss people I don't know knowing just who I am and calling to me by name as I walk down the street. I miss doing all the wild things that courage, youth and health make possible. I miss hearing, "Wow! I can't believe you did that!" I miss being able to walk in alone but not being alone by the time I sit down. I miss having crazy people come banging on my door to drag me off to do something wild or silly or just plain mundane. I miss having all the potential in the world and all the time in the world to fulfill it. I miss being able to pick which gorgeous woman would be warming my lap for the evening. I miss being the center of attention, even the times that that meant people were trying to get me to blush. I miss making out with random hot chicks and dancing surrounded by beauty. I miss being able to Lord it over the guys, who really wanted to know the secret of how I got away with everything and they got away with nothing. I miss hearing "But she's Melinda!" as if that explained everything. I miss my birthday being worthy of the bartender shutting off the jukebox so a crowded bar could pay tribute to the wonderful event of my birth. I miss having a little cartoon of me in the pages of the local lesbian magazine. I miss interviewing rock stars and having my name on the masthead. I miss being so smooth that I could say it all, do it all and hear them tell the stories afterwards. I miss not popping pills and carrying around a wrist monitor and worrying about staying warm enough but not too warm. I miss... LIFE!