Tuesday, April 10, 2007

Conversations in my head and out of it work pretty much the same, most times. I pause, not for effect, but because I know that if you could finish my sentence you would, and when you don't it causes everything to come crashing down for a moment. Makes my ears ring. It works the same way when you do, too, but the ringing is sweeter, not quite so rusty.

Life should be a series of "wait, don't go" moments, but it mostly isn't.

I've got holes in largely inarticulable spots, frankly empty places, everything nibbled by moths in other layers than these ones here. Like how we knew the atom was the smallest thing ever until we broke it open and all of these other smaller bits spilled out. Inside my chest it feels a little like hyperventilating, lately, like not filling out my skin because I keep leaking out through those holes, like the 'drink me' label on the bottle that would make me bigger is written in Linear A and I've never even been to Crete. Which isn't a bad thing, necessarily, because what is is just fine, even when I'm distracted by and fascinated with what is not. And just like Brandon said, there is too such a thing as a long cut, and a reason for it. I could get to where you're going eventually. If I wanted to.

It's just that I'm pretty sure that everything is either funny or sad and, assuming I can't have it both ways, would rather stop to consider the sad and live and live and live the funny, knowing full well that often enough there's no difference between the two anyway and that's what makes the whole operation so entirely beautiful. And life and I are in love like Bonnie and Clyde, and we'll probably go down in a hail of metaphorical bullets, but not without taking you with us first. If we want to.

No comments: