One
Matlock
walked in and sat with us in the dining room. This was a particularly tricky
episode. How were we going to solve it?
It
helps if you think of life as a procedural, like Matlock, predictable in all aspects, including—and here’s where the
two, life and the procedural, part—it’s unpredictability.
So
Matlock came in and began coaching us through this moment, helping us reach a
point where we could admit that we were, in fact and deed, angry. You were
ready to say so. You said, “Yes, I am angry.” I already knew this. I wanted to
agree, and tried to do so, by default, at a much less audible volume.
Matlock
totally called me out on this. He saw it coming. He saw me coming and I knew
like I know that there are:
too
many secrets,
too
much pressure,
too
many things left unsaid.
And
we’re bubbling, bubbling, bubbling until the entirely wrong things, the things
that are so far beside the point, are the very ones to set us off.
It’s
in my body—I know it.
My
whole body is tight, sore, has absorbed too much shock for its years.
My
insides are constantly clenched and I am always bracing, always bracing.
Wincing.
How
tired are we?
I
woke up just as we were about to learn the truth.
It
always happens that way.
I
woke up and all of the adrenaline, the excitement, the relief that someone
would just say it, say something, disappeared.
It
bubbled down.
Like
the burner under a pot of boiling water was turned off.
I
lay in the dark with my eyes still closed, but open from the dream, gone from
the dream.
A
lifetime wasted waking up.
I
think things have panned out in a way no one thought they would. And it is too
much, as it has always been, too much to hold anyone accountable for anything
other than themselves. Trying to do more than that is exactly what got us here.
The
thing about the years is that they keep passing by.
They
keep passing by and I keep waiting for something to happen, pretending not to:
Not
to wait.
This
is how you play it cool.
Hot
clay, hot red clay under their feet.
The
bottoms of their feet tinted now, tinted so that the color of rust reaches the
tips of their tightly coiled hairs.
Each
and every one sprouting from each and every head.
How
was I supposed to imagine when I was seven?
How
was I supposed to dream when I was seven?
How
am I supposed to dream now?
Two
I
couldn’t see you. I couldn’t see you.
I
screamed it so loud—silently—and you didn’t hear me.
How
could you not hear me? I was so loud. I was so silent.
Three
Bad
blood is as red as any. None of us are any different.
Get
angry. Get mad.
Get
mad. Get something.
Get
mad. Get angry.
Get
angry. Get something.
Bad
blood is just as red. It’s all the same thing.
When
you listen to me, are you hearing anything different?
Hearing
something you haven’t heard?
When
I was young I would dance to songs like this.
I’ve
been dancing to songs like this since I was seven.
You
didn’t know me when I was seven.
I
never stood a chance.
Four
If
you’re going to lose, lose big. Losing small is for suckers.
During
the act of losing and for the rest of time thereafter, you might feel a little
nauseous. Or you might not feel anything at all. It’s a toss-up.
Sometimes
losing can be a good thing. Prepare yourself for the possibility of this.
The
best time to first experience loss is when you’re very young. It makes for a
palpable sadness that will add weight to your soul. No one wants a light soul.
You need a little heft.
More
on losing young: when absence takes over the reality of a large percentage of
your years, you kind of get used to it and it ceases to be strange. What’s even
crazier (in a way that is completely and utterly mundane) is if it never feels
strange at all.
Don’t
ever confuse anger for sadness. They are two very different things.
You
can be sad and content.
You
can be sad and working towards happiness at the same time. This is the perfect
time to get angry.
Don’t
be too proud of the fact that you’ve moved past your loss, if or when that
happens. You are not the only one. You will never be the only one.
Some
of the things you have (positive worth) may be attributed to what you have lost
(negative worth). This can be unexpected, funny and weird.
You
didn’t think I knew this, did you?
You
didn’t think I’d know.
Suck
the marrow. Suck out the marrow so you can fly.
I’ve
lost keys, I’ve lost cash, I’ve lost jobs.
I’ve
lost control, I’ve lost my mind, I’ve lost love.
I’ve
lost everything you have and more.
I’ve
lost everything you have and less.
“I
lost the ark. I left the ark and I lost it. I flew from the ark and I lost it. I
lost you. I lost her first and then I lost the both of you.”
That
is how it happened.
I
bet that is exactly how it happened.
