Legendary Love Letters…
“Do you realize how useless it is to collect all this information?”
She has returned to poke another finger into my mind.
“Our past only remains but for the mere curiosity of heart to look back upon with regret.
There is no solid importance in this so called ‘history of mankind’.
For the most part, it is a pile of mistakes casually dumped over the noble efforts of a select few.
So, why bother traveling backwards to attempt reconciliation at all? It is purely senseless.”
Sometimes…
It is annoying to listen to her speak.
Most of the time, she reminds me of my own tendency to get caught up-
Warped evaluations of self importance…
Endless loops of rhetorical solution…
Roads leading to an exact location of nowhere.
Her visits point out why I am considered ‘broken’ in society.
I can’t help but wonder which books house her psych 101 maps.
She will never be able to ‘fix’ me…
I continue nuzzling under her wings of pressure- ‘Get well soon’ was definitely her graduating class motto.
Eh…
Some of the things she says are worth reflection.
SO, I guess all in all…these little sessions are at times…a good thing.
My attention fades through a window reflecting its glorious sunlight.
My Shrink is here to shrink me.
Reaching past myself…
I find her. She is staring back into me. Cutting.Cutting.Force.
Her voice is not subtle when she spits out conviction.
The window…in my mind, becomes a mirror once again.
I turn back around to meet her face…
To behold her loud presence.
Our eyes meet in a duel.
She repeats for the millionth time…
“You are wasting precious moments of your life, for these moments which have already lived out their time- Glorifying people you will never know. Drawing attention to issues best forgotten. It is no different than any random tabloid pointing out the obvious- Our beloved target is ‘fucking shit up in pure idiotic fashion’. Your story is mangled, and completely dependent on negativity. Show me a positive visual in all of this, and I will reveal your lie. Dipping into yesterday feeds which reward again? Labeling what you ’suppress’ as an ‘artistic endeavor’ does not make it art, newsworthy, or true. And, if you are merely using your craft to hide from truth? Why bother, if you are not doing it to get rich? This is honoring your desire to provoke? For fucks sake! You could be outside, living a life, or making a fortune! Instead you remain locked up in here…doing this ‘art for nothing’ as the hours melt away.”
She continues challenging my reasons behind this so called ‘madness’.
Naturally, as blades to earth, she continues plowing.
Inside I am laughing. She was born to do this shit. I think she might even be the only person who does not believe I am crazy. Hence, why it is she who should be locked in this asylum- Not I.
“You are on vacation in this place. And I deserve gratitude for affording the mental charade. Show me what you are working on. Let’s look into why you are lying to me this week.”
Okay…
She is on fire today.
Watching a strong fire has always centered my clarity, and calmed my nerves.
My newest piece begins our conflictus du jour.
I say it is about something other than my original intention.
Ultimately, it can be about anything I want.
Today’s summation for this piece goes as follows:
“A very true reason exists behind every lie.”
She corrects me by proclaiming that my subject matter is obviously about ’something else’.
This is absolutely nothing new. In fact, it always starts off this way. And in this instance, she is actually right.
I am already sick of looking at this fucking piece anyway. I am ready to chuck it to the dogs for fodder. I tell her she is right about all of it. My eyes divert towards the door.
“What is so provocative about dwelling, my dear?”
Outside a man walks past.
He is holding a bouquet of balloons- headed to the party next door.
Gay pride in our sunny city.There will be parades and parties all weekend.
I can hear the music swelling as guests arrive.
The sun is going down. Another day, another dollar.
I thought it was morning…
She wants me to answer. But, I won’t this time.
And if I did decide to reply?
Observation is freedom, Carol.
This is why I do it, you pissant loud mouth!
Do you ever shut up?
She is always speaking as if there were another entity present.
And, truth be told, I tend to enjoy her versions of this ‘thing’ she has created in my image.
It is understood that she considers me a bigger threat than what is real. The reality- is that I remain her lethal patient by indebted choice…and she is the one who gets paid for it. This irony makes it funny enough for me to pursue confessions of my fiction. I rather prefer paying her to take my shit…
Gross.
That dominant voice of hers intrudes on the party once again.
She spoils the one redeeming moment I shared in her defense.
What she says flies straight past my ear, and mixes company with those happy voices next door.
If she is speaking, I no longer understand…because I am now staring at her shoes, and working my way upward.
She has immaculate taste. Redeeming judgements return intact.
The party is now in full swing…
I want to walk over there into that house full of bubbling people.
And I want to enter the room…wearing her outfit…
So, I bravely ask if I can borrow it for the evening.
She looks at her watch with disgust emanating from the core of her very being.
Promises we will pick up later, where we left off.
As it were…
Sanity is again relieved from the looming presence of monsters.
Paused till another time. All of it to return soon enough…
She is gone now.
The door remains open.
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