a gift

everything can be okay when there’s enough sound and moving parts between where I am and the constant hum of the knowledge that none of it lasts or matters. in the company of strangers or others I love the claws lose their grip on the thinking that leaves me helpless on the bench. we laugh and often it’s enough to drown out the prayers of the parasite in my skull. I can forget who and how I am for a while and this is a gift.

I dread boarding the plane to retreat into the shell of myself waiting in a house that isn’t home. a hollow routine of tasks and grocery lists hanging from plastic coat hangers ready to snap. tomorrow when I wake I will sober to the space and time I occupy and tend to the screen on my desk. I am faithful to the contract that keeps me fed and safe at night. when I count the days til something else it is behind closed doors and never loud enough to wake the neighbours.

there will always be time on the horizon for hiding or running away from myself. there will always be facts and figures about people and places I am not to make me wish I wasn’t here. even good days are spoiled by diseased thinking about the shape and space I take in a frame that shouldn’t mean anything to anyone. beyond my mind and the poison it harbours there is always the news and the knowledge I cannot change anything. they make bombs near my house and there is no way of knowing how many they’ve dropped since I last stopped to think.

at the birthday party I meet someone from the bus I used to take to the city after school. I remember their smile without ever having spoken. I’m glad they don’t remember mine.