And after all the parties and the reunions and those funerals and everything, I remembered that we had buried a time capsule. We were already old friends when we had the plan; fill a sealed box with our secrets and bury it. I think the idea was to dig it up when all our secrets had become aged and meaningless and didn't hurt and couldn't break anything.

Life is a seedy, dirty, nasty thing, but it has to be covered.

(My life is pretty much covered with accidents, disasters, mistakes; all small, all inconsequential.)

I buried my secrets.

My life was, you know, great and interesting and everything.
And awful and unbelievable and terrible.
And exciting.
And boring.

Over.