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Posted: Sat Mar 29, 2008 8:53 pm
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He circles the rooms, forgetting about meals, sleep, and anything else tangible or grounding. I do not pretend to understand him, or the ways in which his body turns into wild electricity. When everything shines bright and nothing is out of reach. He sings to the world at midnight, doesn't remember sunlight approaching, and the coffee pot just can't seem to fill up fast enough.
Last night, all the letters I wrote to him were thrown into a fire. He said he was "tired of words, didn't want to hear or read any more of them," and instead was, "going to use body language as the only form of communication from here on out."
I have forgotten what it is to be stable, permanent. What it's like to not have everything you are consumed by a fire that can never be quenched. He wants it all. And his body keeps humming to the tune of universal agony.
He's packing his bags. Says he's tired of the city and needs to live in the forest. He wants to dig his hands into the soil and "feel the warmth of Gaia."
Wait no,
Tibet. Yes. He's going to Tibet to "free the people from the clutches of China."
Never mind.
He doesn't have time for Tibet, he "already arranged for dinner with Jesus. Yes. Really. He’s a good man isn't he? Awfully kind. Awfully..."
He's unpacking his bags. Doesn't have time to go anywhere, the pizza delivery should be here any moment now. “He's taking an awfully long time though isn't he? Isn't he?” He's standing by the window. He wants to get a better view of the situation. Making sure the delivery isn't going to the wrong house. “God, it has been a long time hasn't it? Is the coffee done? Where the ******** is he? This is the last time we order from there, you can be sure of that.”
There is nothing to be sure of with him. Today, in this moment, his words are true. But, the moment fades, (as moments always do,) and then there are new truths, new stories, new plans. Here I stand, waiting for this man to come down again. Sometimes it lasts for days and sometimes it's only for a few hours. Either way, we never stop chasing circles and spinning on stars.
He is here. He is alive. He is everything.
_________________________________________________ Author's Comments
Full title: For the Boy Who Could Never Fill Those Empty Spaces. (That Mania Can Be Blinding.)
We never forget those that let it all go down in flames. Or perhaps we allow it to. Perhaps we are the ones that say 'yes, I believe this is how it shall end.'
Or maybe it never ends. Maybe you'll choose to keep chasing circles with him, love his cycles, and keep a close eye on the moon.
That's your story. Perhaps this is mine.
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Posted: Sat Mar 29, 2008 9:10 pm
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Posted: Sat Mar 29, 2008 9:15 pm
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Posted: Sun Mar 30, 2008 9:24 am
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Posted: Sun Mar 30, 2008 7:13 pm
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Posted: Mon Mar 31, 2008 3:41 pm
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Posted: Mon Mar 31, 2008 5:20 pm
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Posted: Mon Mar 31, 2008 7:06 pm
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Posted: Mon Mar 31, 2008 7:17 pm
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Posted: Tue Apr 01, 2008 7:07 pm
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Posted: Tue Apr 01, 2008 8:02 pm
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Posted: Wed Apr 02, 2008 5:41 pm
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