The Passing of a Lifelong Companion.

Hiding somewhere deep inside my brain is a group of autonomous neurons whose role is  evidently to provide me with a real-time commentary on my activities, invariably unfavourable and unfailingly harsh. 

I am unable to recall a single occasion in my life when anything I have done or said has not been followed by an in-depth, in-house critical analysis of my performance.

This uninvited guest was not only always first on the scene of my many failures, his helpful advice always beginning with "you should have" or "what the fuck did you say/ do that for?" or "she's totally out of your class, you weedy little shit", but also turned up after my few successes, managing even then to point out ways that things could have been done better. 

It seems that his concept of the minimal acceptable level of accomplishment for me was perfection, which, of course, can never be achieved. 

Even my most egregiously successful endeavours have been disfigured by these scrupulously detailed reviews of their shortcomings, but over the years I have learnt to live with them.

Fortunately, I eventually discovered that he was rendered mute by alcohol. 
Left to the blessed silence of his absence, I could get to dance with the prettiest girl in the room (which explains the otherwise inexplicable presence of my beautiful wife and our beautiful daughters).


Lately he has sounded tired, inclined to let minor departures from perfection pass without comment. 
Then, without fanfare or threat, nothing.
Didn't even say goodbye.

Maybe he realized that it's a lost cause and simply gave up.
Maybe he figured that his work here is done.
Maybe, like me, he is just too old to give a shit anymore.


Anyway, as I said, my lifelong companion is gone.



And the silence is beautiful.