Sunday, January 8, 2006

Part 4232

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.


So I was alone again, my future self having departed for shores not yet carved of time.

Well, by alone I mean...

My friend sat quietly as I raged against myself. One, two, bang, kick...the frost between us not the Frost above, something a little more, permeable perhaps? But the sun shone down as is its want and gradually we thawed to the idea of each other. And I thawed, to the psychoanalysis of myself that was being presented.


Yes, I have forever held onto the blackness inside. Yes, I have kept it safe, a badge, a mark, an identity. An excuse.

Yes, when unleashed, it is destructive, not only to me, but also to you.

Where does it come from?

It comes from me, my Past Self appears suddenly, standing in front of me, eyes ablaze with grief and passion, ambition and confusion.

Ah. I know you. We're not that different you and I.

No, we are not. And yet often, you ignore me, hope that I have disappeared, blown aside by the winds of the present, drowned and choking in the sands of the past. But see how easily I reappear? You have not forgotten me, I am as close to you as I have always been, and I will NOT let go.

I don't like you as much as I like my future self. You make me feel, darker...afraid...angry.

You may not like me Mathew, but sooner or later, you're going to have to talk to me.You're going to have to look me in the eye, understand me. Console me.

I'd really you just rather fucked off you know? Better for us both. I'll close my eyes and count to ten and when I open them, YOU WILL BE GONE. K? K.

But it didn't happen. My broken self was still standing there beneath the sun as I opened my eyes. I knew he would be, but a guy can hope right?

I cried.

What do you want from me? I don't want to look back, I don't want to clean this up. I want it to be gone. I just don't want to think about you. Please...

It's time. It's time. You either face me now, or we go through it all again and maybe you'll make it out, but maybe you won't. Maybe on the outside no-one will know, and you will drink and party and cause trouble and dance and flirt and Wow! Look at him go! But you will have broken and smashed some things inside and some things out, and that will all stay with me, your past self, and you will run even further from me, but I will grow stronger, darker, scarier. Is that what you want?

As he spoke the sun fell silver black and I realised that I stil stood in the park hours later, draped by night. My friend had left and my heart followed my head and sank slowly forward.

Now...Let's talk.

Ok. Ok. Ok.


  1. I sometimes feel like that. Torn between the past, present and future. It's a constant battle for me, trying to live IN the day rather than waiting for tomorrow or reliving yesterday.

    Reading that gave me some reassurance that I wasn't mad to think like that. Thanks.

  2. I guess that at some stage you have to face the past. You can't pour fresh milk into sour & expect the result to be palatable. Owning the past, releasing it, and moving on into the future with the proverbially fresh glass is the only sane, if difficult, path.