We are constantly saying things we do not mean: I’m fine, we’re all fine, I hate you, I miss you, I love you. We say them to fill up space, we say them because we are afraid of the repercussions of piercing the veil, of looking behind the curtain. It’s the lies that hold this world together, that bind us into a false sense of security. Because we know there is no wizard, we’ve become too old to believe in magic, we’ve become snugly accustomed to not being ourselves.
Monthly Archives: October 2008
anything at all
every confession contains within itself denial: we were all pretending. in the night, nothing helps, every utterance digs you deeper, you are more lost than ever. she looks at you, searching for who you once were. you tell her, this is nothing new, this is who i’ve always been. she whispers, maybe you can ask your mother to stop working, she can help out with the kids…
i never should have told you anything. i never should’ve said anything at all.
against inspiration
If you make it a matter of inspiration, nothing ever gets done, you’ll get no where.
It needs to be a force of will, you to be disciplined, you meed to do.
And sometimes, after a line or two of utter garbage something will come: something wondrous, monstrous, something that will you inspire you.
But most of the time it will be nonsense, it will be incoherent and unsalvageable.
However, ever present, the gnawing still, “one chance each time.”
denial
she says to me,
last year we were like all our other friends, we were happy.
and i cannot stand it, i cannot stand the smell of me, i cannot stand the fact that i breathe, that i can hold the steering wheel and not spin out of control, all the self-hate isn’t enough to end it all.
is it cold?
-here, he said, wiped the dribble of her chin. ok, let’s try again.
-dad?
-yes?
-where are we?
-we are here.
-is it cold here?
-it can be. but not always. mostly, mostly it’s-
-sad. it’s cold and sad here daddy.
-no it isn’t. don’t say that. you shouldn’t be saying that.
-but look. she points out the window, rain sweeps the street, a neighbor runs from their car to their driveway. no one parks in their driveway.
-that’s just rain.
-but it’s cold.
-yes, he hugs her, yes i guess it can be.
needing past
The trick is to run past the rabbit hole, to keep moving, to keep alive. You are not alive when you are alone: you are only breathing. The presence of others, of talking, touching, holding, being needed, this is living. It’s a certain kind of box, a certain kind of definition. And although it eats at you, their needs, their words, their beckoning, it gives you shape, it keeps you moving, keeps you breathing past that rabbit hole, keeps you from falling in.