Several weeks ago I was standing in a hotel room and happened to look in the mirror. I had forgotten an important part of my childhood. When I was a boy, I dreamt of a zipper down my back. I knew of a man inside me under my skin. I wished I could let him out. I wanted to remove my coat of skin so I could wash him. His body had been covered in dirt and grease. His eyes sunk deep in his head and his eyebrows furrowed. His skin was blemished and his hands cracked and broken. He was working so hard. I could see him behind my own eyes. I wanted to sit him down and serve him anything he needed. I would give him water and a razor to shave, and scissors to cut his hair. He would feel a little less brutal to me if only he wasn’t covered in all this dirt and shame. I thought I could make it better.
I had forgotten.
But he is here now. I can feel him surfacing. That space between my blood and skin is massive, big enough for a complete angry giant, faster than all of us. My fear has grown because I have not served him. My only hope is that he has grown with me and suffered. Maybe now he will have some compassion. Maybe now his hammer will not fall on me and break my legs. Why why why did I ignore? I had the chance to reason and get out of a debt I was incapable of paying. Time is a funny thing. Everyone knows its too slow when your young and too fast when your old. My only excuse is that my imagination was so strong that I was able to block it out.
So all has not been forgotten. I must go now. My time to fix and calm has come and gone 3 times too many. What choice do I have? I have tried now for weeks to rationalize my situation to the behemoth. Standing and fighting is no good. But running only makes it worse. Stand and face your punishment my friend. You have had…a good run.
it was written on the 20th and silently screamed last night...