who am I kidding? This is not the way. This method of living my days does not work, this route I hoped would lead into the light does not lead anywhere. I had a desire, I think, once to compose a sweet and moving life. But I never adopted any of the disciplines or accepted any of the conventions required for such a work. Instead I became a virtuoso of complaint; and though that is an inverse accomplishment, I have done it exceedingly well.
In this space I have explored many times why I live this way, but it doesn't matter at all. It has never mattered, really. We do not first require to know the cause when a jet crashes; the very first thing we do is try to save the souls aboard. The immediate remedy for any trauma requires addressing first the present need and pain. Similarly, a life gone awry does not require enmeshment in the past to redirect, though that is the distraction I have until now preferred. I have collected insight enough to float the Titanic. I lack only the decision to act, to finally turn around and stop this game, a game of hide and seek with my feelings, a game I play which hurts me just enough so I am sure I am alive, but a game which allows me to dodge the full impact of living and never become 'it'.
I am in love with fear, with the back of my apartment door, with all things inanimate and all moments predictable. When I was in my teens, I didn't live this way. But I recognized my self in others who did, and was chilled to see who I might become. As in the case of homophobes, they recognize in others the thing they deny in themselves and, through various crimes and cruelties against gays, try to expunge their gayness. So I, in my adolescence, did recognize myself in lonely, scared, contracted people living isolated lives. Back then I was pretending to prepare for a busy and fulfilling future, and I pointed my finger (subtely, only in my thoughts) at those who resembled me, claiming their life-fear was alien to me; I looked down my nose at those painfully alone, whom I understood all too well; I told myself they and I were not the same.
here is my home. Here, this space in your thoughts for these few moments. I live upon my monitor's screen; I know there must be others like me here. With you—though I appear to be alone—I can weep, embraced by you as I am right now. It is the only hug I cannot corrupt, the only touch I am able to allow until I learn to trust another face to face—and trust myself, in person. As it is now, I am all defenses and games in person, and have been for almost forty years. Forty years. I have desperately needed a thing such as this journal, this online journal—and I have needed you. This place is more than an entertainment for people like me, it's an interactive meeting place where I know most of the rules. It's a place where I feel I actually exist.
I know I have offended on occasion, been clumsy with the boundaries of others, and once or twice just been a jerk. I'm sorry. Fear, which was not content dominating my local environment, sought also to invade this sacred space, but in so doing, fear gave me an opportunity to reinforce this truth: Fear is a great big wimp, and all I have to do is tell it to get lost and it runs... it runs. Fear runs away and leaves beside me all the hopes I ever dreamt with nothing to block them from my grasp. It leaves before me—still, even at this late date, and despite all the things which threaten to abbreviate my life—more life than I could ever hope to live. Fear leaves, and I realize it was not fear I sent away. I sent away nothing. I simply stopped hiding, and here I am, alone with all the possibilities in the world...
Hi world, my name is joe. Who are you?
|
|
|
|
updated |