I was in an empty room with a very bright light coming straight down, cutting my cheekbones into lovely sad triangles. A book lay on a pedestal before me. In plain gold text gleaming on the brown cover, it read:
AN AUTONOMIC AUTONOMOUS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
BY: JESIKA JONES-ELLIS-BARENBERG-WEISENFELS
The book had many pages. I flipped through. All were blank save one. It was written in smooth swollen script, with quill in ink:
All my life they said to me, "You will not do well in this circumstance." I looked at them and said, "I will." Always, I failed. They said, "But you can do anything." And looking back, I see. They were always right.
I shut the book, turned old, and died.
