On the surface life is good.

I wake up every morning with a smile on my face and sleep in my eyes. I brush my teeth and comb my hair. I pick my clothes for the day and prepare my bag.

On the surface all is well.

I walk from class to class, sucking in the new information, feeling my brain swell. I try to mold my mouth to fit the mouthpiece and make the reed vibrate just the right amount. I sign. I force my brain to think in Japanese. I work. I go from meeting to meeting, talk about the system and our vision and the multitude of requirements. I sit at my computer and reply to email. I code perl. I write queries. I read through the specifications of the messaging-based programs the department recommends.

On the surface successes outweigh the failures.

I come home and watch the TiVo. I call a friend or two. I read a book or two. I stare at my computer and read about other people's lives, thoughts and interests. I hug Jake. I talk to my bird. I write.

On the surface I smile.

I go to bed. So does Jake.

On the surface life goes on.

I hear the consistent exhale and inhale of his breathing.

I cry.

Previously?Socially Unacceptable.