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Don't drink the kool-aid.
It has been two months since my arrival in Babylon, and still I wake each morning expecting to find myself at home, in a hospital bed, or perhaps in one of so many anonymous hotel rooms, Mulder at my door with Egg McMuffins and farfetched theories. I always expect to find the sun on my face, and each morning I am disappointed.
Two months, and already I have carved out a life for myself, as pioneers are wont to do. I’ve spent more nights in my apartment here in two months than I would in a year at home. I’ve put down almost as many roots – I have never been one to form many close connections, always believing that she travels the fastest who travels alone.
I have no desire to celebrate the inauguration of the portal that has been so unkind to me. But that human urge to put down roots even in the most inhospitable environment, that will to survive – I will celebrate that.