Down it crashes, without warning, destroying the life I knew.

Fire and fear, confusion and calamity

Blocking off the roads I was about to take

Reshaping the very land, the horizon, the look of the sky

Whole ecosystems gone haywire as populations are crushed or spared by the god of dice.

Everything is different.

And the talkers, the gawkers, they say,

“At least you’re still alive.”

“What did you do to make the asteroid hit you?”

“At least you didn’t get hit by the asteroid fifty years ago, it was much harder then.”

“You’re lucky you got hit by the asteroid now—technology makes it so much more liveable!”

“Nowadays you can live a long time with the asteroid—it doesn’t always kill you right away. That’s good!”

“Oh, I know herbs that get rid of an asteroid.”

“Do this yoga pose every day to make the asteroid disappear.”

“Can’t diet make the asteroid go away?”

“I know someone who’s lived with an asteroid since they were a kid, they hardly notice it.”*

(*supposedly)

“Did you know this celebrity was hit by an asteroid?”

“At least it wasn’t a volcano erupting, I hear that’s much worse.”

“When will the asteroid be normal?”

“Are you getting used to the asteroid?”

“Is the asteroid feeling a little better now?”

“The asteroid will make you stronger, won’t it?”

“I know someone who terraformed the asteroid.”

“Did you know you can mine useful materials from the asteroid?”

“I saw a really meaningful tattoo of an asteroid.”

“I know people who make art out of their asteroid.”

And I scream,

Please!

It’s still an asteroid.

It is here to stay.

Every day.

It’s not going away.

And though I may learn to climb every craggy side

like an Olympian mountain goat,

Though I may perform comedies from its stage-like height

(more to ease my social pain than yours),

Make no mistake. It is an asteroid.

Permanent.

Undeniable.

And yes, climbing over and around it will make me stronger.

But being strong is not fun;

It’s exhausting.

What I need is not someone to clap me on the back

or marvel at my frantic free solo.

I need someone to climb this asteroid with me;

I need someone to drive in the anchors

Tie the ropes

To belay

To let me be weary and weak

To let me cry as I boulder for the thousandth time.

Will that be you?

If not, please leave me and my asteroid in peace.

The asteroid may have blocked the roads,

But maybe I’ll dig a new path to my destination.

Or maybe I’ll see a new road that leads me elsewhere.

The asteroid may be hard to climb,

But there are views to see from the top.

I will see a new sky;

I will cradle each new creature that evolves from this, smell each flower.

The asteroid fell;

It changed everything.

But I am the god of my own dice;

I will carve them anew and keep rolling.