Life Itself

That heady mix of what I would like to do versus what I should do. That rhetorical question of yes or no. How do you go backwards when your foot is stuck on the accelerator? You turn my world into a ball of questions. You take ordinary everyday and make it look incomplete. You start at the end and smile as I try to catch on. You casually slip into my world and don't even look for permission. Simple. Yes. Magical. Yes. And that's where the record gets stuck.

You remember that phone call? The simple question, the complicated answer? You remember that email? The honest confession, the complete denial? You remember that fight? The insane aggression, the innocent surprise? You remember that threat? The blatant force, the meager push-back.You remember that list? The itemized oppression, the stupid assent? You remember the pieces? The gruesome look, the fearful eyes? You remember that blackmail? The suicidal tendency, the gullible night? You remember the desertion? The empty street, the lonely find? You remember the music? The polar confusion, the naive cessation? You remember the silence? The deafening vacuum, the tragic sigh? You remember those tears? The careless laughter, the unassuming plight? You remember the blaming? The careless pin-pointing, the quiet lies? You remember the escape? The casual manipulation, the honest fright? You remember the speed? The near stop, the begging twice? I hope you remember. For, I forget. 

'Everyone has at least one secret that will break your heart.' Each time I meet someone new, it is almost a quest to dig deep enough to see that which makes them who they are. Whenever I have spent the time, I have never been surprised by shallowness or disappointed by predictability. It is because we settle at the surface, because we don't begin to probe, that we aren't awed by just how beautiful ordinary people are. 

Perchance, I caught your eye. It was a fleeting moment, A simple Hi. You were mostly speaking About nothing at all I was mostly listening to nothing at all. There was no game, no players, no bets, no rules, nothing set. All lines fairly blurry. All boundaries slowly melt. Friends? Strangers? No conditions, no reason to fret. What about awkwardness? I asked. What about it? You said.  

Wait, stop, consider. Question, wonder. How could life lead you so gracefully to perfection? I have never known things to 'just' work themselves out. There has to be a catch right? There has to be story, a trilogy, an epilogue? Or does there? What about the real possibility of near completion. A chance of almost fitting all the pieces, of finally seeing my masterpiece, crafted and painted in every single hue - out for the world to watch. I have always believed in grey, in confusion, in what could-have-been, what should-have-been. But this is here and now. This deserves action. This deserves to be acknowledged, experienced, fully comprehended and accepted. This deserves more than a mere cynicism. Because if this isn't it, then what is?

We were so close to perfect, so near completion, so well pieced together. Until we we were just not. Sometimes it takes you many months - many cycles, before you figure out that what you see is only a shadow, only a mirage, only an illusion. Reality is 'un-perfect'. It doesn't care for emotion, for sensitivity, or even for compassion. Reality is brutal, honest, straightforward. Reality says it like it is -black & white. Grey shades only exist in the blank spaces between denial and acceptance. The moment you crossover, its fairly simple. Either its good, or its bad. Either its right, or its wrong. The only questions then are those that live in the hope of white, of good, of righteousness. Everything else stares you blankly in the face.  Intellectually, I know this better then most other people. I can slice the problem, dissect it into all its views, state it clearly and present the most rational prognosis. But does that really count? When the question confronts you

Nothing goes as planned. You were an accident. A chance, a mistake. If I could, I would redo I would erase the mischance, I would rewind to our day. Everything will change. Nothing will stay the same. You & I will move on. Maybe I will hold your hand. Maybe I will kiss you goodbye. Maybe you will stay.