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Saturday, February 21, 2009

Robert Frost & François Rabelais




We've all got some sort of wanderlust in us. It's the cause for all that teenage angst, twenty-something drinking bouts, and thirty-something scramble for careers or relationships. We're all walking some sort of path towards our own specific end, and while we know not how or when we'll reach it, we trudge the road ever onward.

I've been walking mine since before my first memory. It all started at two years old when my mother discovered a small lump in her chest. That little aggregation of flesh - such a small thing really, to determine the starting course of my life. But ever since then, when I was taken prematurely from my mother's breast, I was predisposed to loneliness, and the fear of being alone.

Maybe it's my own fault for thinking that nobody cared about my problems. Or thinking that even if they did, they couldn't help because they could never understand what it was like for me. People are okay, but they're still people and they can still hurt you quite by accident. It's not their fault really, because they just don't know any better.

I remember that happened to me a lot, being hurt and getting over it like it was nothing.



As a small child I would sleep in our greenhouse that was converted to a playroom. I'd curl into a small ball and with one-eye look straight up through all those panes of glass. The world was too big for me to worry about holes in my heart or head. When you look up at the infinite night, moon, stars, and blue-black sky, the world almost seems to press down on you with an immense weight. There are more important things than me, and I reaaaally want to see them. I've got to know, to be there when it all happens. What that is I'm not sure - everything, I guess.

Maybe it could've started from then, my constant fascination with the sky, with things bigger than myself and everyone else. (I've since come to suspect that there are no real beginnings, just a bunch of first times.) Either way, it was A beginning. I directed all my self-imposed solitude to figuring out that universal question that only the impossible can cause in a person.



Why is this how to has to be? What's the reason for all of it, me, you, mother, father, brother, pets, friends, and even legos. (I've always loved legos.) And if there is some point to it, then how come it all gets so terribly wrong sometimes? There has got to be a better way than this. Right? ... Right?

Lots of people hate questions, hate having to answer a steady stream of curiosity, as if they're afraid of thinking about what they don't know! And, I guess, maybe they are. People are strange like that. But I'm not afraid to be stupid. I mean, it's not like I care what someone else thinks since I'm mostly by myself anyways. I know that if I don't ask the question, I'll never know if there's even an answer. And what if there is? Then the person who asks may seem like a fool for a little while... but the person who doesn't will be a fool forever.

I HAD to know where all the "what-ifs" ended. That's something my mind cannot accept: being unable to find the ultimate reason for things. I've always assumed that if you just look hard enough, you'll find the start of everything. I guess it never occurred to me that maybe things had simply ALWAYS been. But hey, I was a kid, so cut me a break.

There's no way I could convincingly explain how I thought like this before I was even ten years old. All I can say is that I did.



So it was that I went about life with solitude in my heart, and curiosity in my head. Eventually I learned to ignore my pain and give over to the love of adventure, discovery, exploring the depths of my mind and my world like a submariner.

And I kept those hulls tightly sealed, no one was allowed in... at least, not at first. It took a long time to open the hatch from time to time when I came back to the surface. Life was hard enough without having to try making friends when I'd only have to leave them again. They couldn't follow me where I was going - we moved in and out of neighborhoods A LOT.

There's this dream I have though. No, not really a dream, more like a wish, except I could never make it fully because I didn't think it would really happen. I imagine myself standing on a hill overlooking this beautifully picturesque view. The sky is clear and moon full, and for as far as I can see there is this rolling blanket of lights, like slow-moving waves from the ocean. And they're twinkling. It's almost as if all the stars fell from the sky at the same time and covered the ground. The idea is overwhelming.

Then she's there beside me, the woman I love, arms wrapped around my waist, and I pull her in close to me. She feels like an extension of myself, warm and comfortable, like old clean clothes. We watch from the hilltop, smiling at this amazing thing.



Maybe that sounds stupid/sappy/romantic/cheesy/whatever, but it's what I've always wanted since I finally learned that girls actually DON'T have cooties. I've always wanted to do that with someone ever since I realized how beautiful it was to kiss, to hold and be held. I've always wanted to find the one person I can finally share my life with - or for as long as we can, at least - without worrying that she won't understand or not like it.

Until then, I'll keep searching for my Immortal Beloved, and follow the path my soul has set.

"I go to meet a Great Perhaps."

4 footnotes:

JDR said...

Damn this is deep and really poetic, and I mean this in a really non homosexual way. I say this because I have a lot of those same thoughts and feelings.

Zek J Evets said...

haha, it's okay man. thanks.

Andruba said...

absolutely, sincerely beautiful

Zek J Evets said...

oh, stop. you're making me blush.