Tuesday, May 6, 2008

Patience.

The abyss is so close.

I need some money so I decide to sell my laptop. When I say sell I mean pawn, but these days I never know what's going to happen, so I resign myself to the fact that I'm selling it.

Before I leave the house I dress myself in a fine, clean shirt and some clean pants with my black leather shoes. I figure this will give the Pawnbroker the impression that I am not in dire straits, merely relieving myself of an extra laptop, of which I have no use for since upgrading to a newer model. This is the first symptom of my insanity, my depression. That I must act this way, that I must lie to someone I have never met, just so I do not fall into the abyss.

If I can put one hundred dollars into my pocket, I think, I will not fall into the abyss tonight.

The Pawnbroker's name is Levi, which I am impressed with. Levi inspects the laptop and me and says, I'll give you fifty and I wave my hand in a nonchalant fashion as though the actual figure meant nothing to me, as though I would happily pay him to take this computer off my hands. I sign the paper, take the money and walk out.

It's raining.

I buy some cigarettes, they help the moment last. They help the minutes stay put, so I don't tumble, so I can just be just breathe - in and out, the burning heat, the now, the now.

It's raining but I have no place to go anymore.

I think of places that I could be,
and places that are that would have me,
and places where he or she could make me laugh
or help me flee the panic, the panic, do you ever get the panic?
When every day is crushing upon you,
when nothing you have wished or imagined or
loved or dreamed has ever come true?
I've got the panic, the panic, the panic, the panic, the panic,

Hey there,
says the voice, not a mate, or an acquaintance, but somewhere in between. I have my Pawnbroker act not far from the surface so it's fine.

Hey, I say,
er...what a beautiful day!

I don't like the rain, they say,
and I know then why we never made friends.
So, how's that job? That trip overseas? Ever write that book?
Ever do ANYTHING you said you would?
And they're smiling at me, looking behind me at the Pawnbroker and they don't even let me reply, just laugh as they walk off, and
I try to say, you don't know how much I try
how much it hurts inside
you don't feel the black
that I can't trace
when all I want to see is a face,
any face,
or maybe a hand,
reaching through the darkness but all I see
is fear,
and tears,
and the oh dear
oh dears as across the street
I see them meet with another I knew
and they're talking about me, they're talking about you...

The rain stops just as I make it to my car.

The rear window is missing so the back seat is covered in ice and water from the storm and there are some books I borrowed from the library which are ruined. I try to start the engine and it is dead and the rain starts again - this time heavier this time it blinds me and burns me the rain tearing through the glass the glass in my eyes the water and glass and rain in my eyes, but it's not rain.

I'm crying.
By the side of the road in a broken down car in a wet seat in a dead beat life.

But shit,

It's not such a bad Hell, as far as Hells go.

And when I think that, the rain starts again and I sit inside and watch the water dance on the bonnet, and I listen to the rhythm of the storm as it flashes and flagellates my little rusty car. And outside in the street people run for cover as the storm hits for real and I'm smiling at them as they slip and slide and splash and cry and shriek and dash and damn it all

this is my Hell

so out I go, into the street, letting the rain wash the self pity from my face, letting the thunder give my feet a reason to dance, and letting the lightning give me reason to scream with glee.

You're fucking mad, I hear someone scream. He's lost his mind.

But all I can think is:

It's not such a bad Hell, as far as Hells go.

3 comments:

  1. Just don't tell him I told you or he'll kill me.

    ReplyDelete