Friday, August 21, 2009

Don't be afraid to care.

Everything's white. The light, the uniforms, the gloves, the walls. Even the labels on the wall are white. White with faded black letters, fading into white. I can hear someone crying in the bed next to mine. I let myself listen for a moment, and then I close my eyes and everything is how it always was.

Black.

I used to think you were so smart, she's saying. I used to think you actually had something to say. The way you wrote, so child like, I used to believe in it. That bullshit you spin about naiviety being true beauty. Jesus, she laughs and smokes and her eyes are so much harder now than when we first met, you sure had me fooled.

And those songs! Ha! You honestly thought I believed you, all that softness and light, eternal Hope, you and me or her or whoever the Hell you wanted to sing about, whoever the Hell you were really thinking about, jesus, and I wanted to be you. I actually wanted your words, your chords, your songs, your art, I wanted your everything, your empty thing, your pathetic and broke little world. There was a time, when I actually wanted that.

Her cigarette tumbles sad and helpless to the ground and is crushed beneath her boots. And I can feel the Shadow Man call her from the darkness.

Well, she says, with gravel and grate, that's all I've got to say to you. I just wanted you to know. You're nothing. NOTHING.
And she turns and fades
into
Black.

I open my eyes and I'm back in the White. Two of my friends sit at the end of the bed.
Hallo! They smile and touch my feet, and I smile back and the masochistic phantasm recedes somewhere...I don't know...just somewhere.

We brought you the paper, my friends say, and....GUITAR MAGAZINE! Wooo! Keith Urban feature! Craptastic! Woo!

And I can't help but laugh, though the laughter sets the machines to beeping, and a Nurse sticks her head in and smiles and I smile back and my friends smile too, and sure, this ain't such a great Saturday morning, and the medication is making me grumpy, but I've got time to just lie still, and I've got time to exorcise the weirdness that comes when I close my eyes, the past I keep running from, or telling myself I HAVE to run from, when really, I have long since healed.
The laughter of my friends breaks my train of thought and paints the white walls colour and I skip through time to the Eternal City, where You and I will meet, soon enough, and all this will be forgotten.

Until then -

best to always use a Preventer.

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