I was in a dangerous space, stuck in a contracting crevice. I was being crushed by the consequences of my past actions. I was drowning in the results of some highly destructive behaviors. But you came to me with your life jacket and tow-rope, and now we’re standing on the hill staring at the skyline of our city. Now we’re making plans for a more productive, fulfilling future. We’re making vows to save money, to eat healthy, and to sleep on a regular basis. You nod your head. I clap my hands. The deal is sealed in spiritual concrete and cosmically valid. We won’t under-sleep. We won’t over eat. We’ll buy things with cash and put our credit cards in canisters surrounded by fire and electric fences. There are not too many mornings left, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to give them to ungrateful credit card executives, or to anxious restauranteurs.
Now that I can see the world around me lose its shape I really do regret taking that powder into me. It was a wonderful journey that we all were to sett off for but I did not expect the stability of my world to disappear so unexpectedly. I just woke up without her the next day, and ever since it only takes me to space out and lose the focus of my eyesight to see the world flow and the object in front of me merge in the background. It is in a way petrifying but there is also certain magic to it. Magic of human mind. Something great and inexplicable. Now, I indulge in coffee. It keeps me awake and I do not end up spacing out and seeing the world flow around me in uncontrolled trance. I just do not want be scared. I wish I had not taken that white powder into me.
I am tired. It is just simply exhausting to pretend to be okay when I am anything buy okay. I am tired of holding my sorrows and pain so tight that they spill out at the worst moments. Allowing others to see what I prefer to remain hidden. I am tired of giving so much of me to others that do not understand the difficulty it entails to do so. I just wish I could tear apart the veil the lie I have created so meticulously and let you see what is the reality of my life. How the simplest of tasks are difficult and how I struggle to keep my carefully constructed world together. Some days I am tired of me.
Five months had gone by since I had last heard from him. The last conversation I remember having with him was when he asked about my new love life. I guess once he saw that I had finally moved on to find something beautiful, he figured that there was no point in him trying to stay connected in my life. For months I believe he kept me around, dangling me up and down by my feelings for him. I was always his friend to turn to and the one who would give him a pick-me-up on any given night. But when I discovered a new love, he realized that maybe he shouldn't have kept me around. I didn't have the same feelings for him that I once used to. I was happy again, and that was detrimental to him. He wanted me to be happy. He truly did. But he just never expected it to happen too soon. Five months had passed since he stopped loving me, and now six months have passed since I have stopped loving him. He shot me a text the other day, I guess just to see how my new love was going. My six month anniversary is coming up, exactly a year from the day he made me his. Crazy coincidence. A lot can happen in a year.
The fashion director gives the nod and we broach the catwalk. We step out under the lights. Life is a moral fashion show, and God is watching us under the hot, bright lights. And the crowds raise an eyebrow and make notes as we strike virtuous poses and swing around in virtuous motions. Things happen. We stumble. Curtain rods fall on our heads. But we keep walking. Step here, step there. Trying not to mimic what the other models are doing. Trying to do it how we want to do it. But we all have 2 legs and a desire for dark chocolate. We all vomit and starve ourselves before the show. We nod to one another, conscientious of what we are supposed to be conscientious of. We're well informed, misinformed, then re-informed of everything we were misinformed of. We don't know what's true. We puke. We change suits and walk back out, with practiced strides, immune to the lights. All we see are Pharisees. Where is the fashion director? Where is the judge of this show?