ericboy's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- \"She called out a warning / Don't ever let life pass you by\" - Incubus And a silence like mercury filled the spaces in between. I felt my head wash clear, clearer, erase itself from the annals of cognitive thought. I then thought of nothing; could only feel. I would try to wrap my mind around my feelings, a rudimentary and ineffective blanket, and they would incubate in themselves to become something more. In this vacuum of my new reality, only my heart would speak. It used clear and enunciated words strung together in contexts that were foreign and esoteric. It was like listening to the most pretentious poet in the world share an experience so vague and topical that it could only have occured in a dream, the edges given a false crispness to ease digestibility. The Frog Queen will never return to you in shades of brown or purple. Your interest in the finer things will leave only your tolerance and patience growing finer and finer until it is no stronger than a strand of your far-too-short hair; then it will break. You will spill to the floor like fecal pearls and roll into crevices of tear-soaked sleep and hate yourself for your weakness. I've never tried to play a part in social situations; always insisted on being myself. But there I was: quoting lines that my heart didn't believe, didn't understand, and clamouring for attention and understanding. It was nauseating. You'll return to your castle and look to see if your prayers had been answered and find a cease in your wonder. You will receive a definitive response and it will be "no". Not the answer you were looking for, but an answer, nonetheless. Your waiting and writhing and painting of sunsets with a languid tongue will culminate in a crushing solidification of nothing. I felt pulled. Squashed. Too many bodies around me, none of them with any gravity of their own. By the time that I realized that I had started to slip from her without a proper parting, she was too far from me. It would have been awkward at that point to correct the mistake. It would have made a scene. And I seldom try to make a scene in social situations, preferring to be myself at all times. So why, then, did I not follow my instincts and do what I really wanted to do, which was make a scene? These questions are for the thinking, and you can no longer consider yourself among them. I am you, now, forever, my friend. My host and vessel, I am you. The two roads diverged in a storefront and you have chosen poorly. Go now to your empty castle and tap out empty words onto waiting canvas and imbibe the remains of those pleasantries that others have given up the taste for. Feed on their scraps and wait for your sun to rise. God Blessed Be, may it come with thoughts that you can later recall having "dawned upon" you. If you didn't keep me alive then I would never choose to keep you. You disgust me. It sickens me and energizes me that I tear into the fray daily. Each time I fall I get back up, dust myself off, and jump right back in. I never learn from my mistakes, never correct my course, always succumb numbly to the role that I've been fed. I call it "rolling with the punches" when I'm really just "going with the flow", scared to make my own decisions and find myself responsible for my own failures. Failures aplenty; perhaps that's why I continue. It's entertaining in its own sick and jovial way. She's not thinking about you right now, I assure you. Her thoughts will turn to you before she lays her head down to sleep. They will be unpleasant at first and then dwindle into apathy. She will think of the disappointment that you were, how you failed to do the right thing at the right time and opted instead to do nothing all the time. She will be upset, mostly at herself for having believed in you in the first place. She will transfer this to you, a shining and glittering failure. Then, to lessen the sting, she will convince herself that you mean nothing to her, and with that, you will. Her hurt will fade as her emotion for you recedes, coming to fruition in a singular nod of her head, a close of her eyes, and a clear, monosyllabic note of resignation in her mind: "No". And, with that, you will cease to be a thought to her. This will free you to put your foot in your mouth as often as you like and dismiss her with cursory nods or nothing at all. It will never come to harm her. The Frog Queen will never return to you. Suck down your soda and wait for your head to fill up again so that tomorrow you can drain it. Let your head hit the pillow and convince yourself that tomorrow will come so that you can screw it all up again in precisely the same way. 9:44 p.m. - 2004-08-17 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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