I suppose that the implications of this are slowly creeping their way into my head. This would explain my urge to run, hard and fast and far away. This would also explain my urge to sing and dance and shout with joy.
The thing is, I don't think I'm really allowed to be happy about this news. It's not a happy turn of events, for anyone except me, maybe. And, let's face it, I don't matter even a tiny bit. Especially as far as this is concerned.
The other thing is, I don't think I'm supposed to be sad about this either. I mean, a normal person would be selflessly and empathetically sad, but I never claimed to be normal. Especially as far as this is concerned. So if I'm sad then that sadness is a lie at some level. And I don't want to lie. Not about this. It's too important.
Like most people who've had their faith shaken, I often find myself looking for a miracle, to restore that faith. Unlike most people, however, I get my miracles. And I'm overjoyed, for a week or so. And I smile, for a month or two. But then, it fades. And then, I look for the next miracle. Because it's never enough.
The next miracle is coming. I know it's coming.
Maybe it will come tonight.
I hope so.
When it finally happens, I'll probably just do what I always do. Wait and see, bide my time, until it's too late. That's at least familiar to me, mundane even.
I would be a terrible poker player. I'd never raise, and I'd never fold my hand. I'd do nothing but call and call and call and call. And then eventually I'd go bust, and I'd be shocked and outraged at the horrible luck I'd encountered.
I'm not particularly afraid anymore. I'm not sure what the word to describe my state might be. It would be a word that meant I'm eternally grateful for what I have, even though I continue to want more. It would be a word that meant I'm not looking a gift horse in the mouth, because I fear it might bite me. It would be a word that meant I will take my medicine, even though it tastes like shit, because I know it will make me all better.
Such a word exists, I'm sure. But I can't think of it right now.
You ever wait for something for so long that the waiting becomes a part of who you are?
Well, I have.
And then, when the wait was finally over, you didn't quite feel like yourself anymore?
Well, I have.
It just struck me.
I've been using the word wait instead of the word wish.
That's pretty fucking relevant, right there.
Stupid though, because I know the difference between the two, and still I chose the former.
I wonder when I shifted from wishing to waiting. Probably in May. May was a great month.
I wonder how long I can hold my breath.