Funny story today. The picture above has nothing to do with it, but I figure someone out there is interested in what we do at work all day. When the trailer is empty, it makes the perfect place for a mobile futon.
At any rate, here’s the short fat girl version of the real story, the one with a few oinks and plenty of bacon sizzling on the side.
Each time I cut this out of my heart, I find that somehow my whole heart has been cut out of me. Which is funny because I could have sworn I was cutting just this one thing out.
After I cut it out, I writhe against the absense, and my mind loses all of its sound perception. And then, when I replace it again, I find that my whole heart, likewise, has been replaced.
It doesn’t matter whether I condemn it as evil (because doesn’t it feel like it?) or reward it as right (because doesn’t it seem like it?) What? Ignore it? Here, you try. Not feel the pull as well as the pain of it grinding against the guard rails of my mind? Only if you cut it out, but as we have discussed, that option doesn’t work.
Exemption from the laws of physics is nothing new to a fantasy fiction writer, but for goodness’ sake, what on earth, how the devil, what the deuce, and several other cliché phrases.
Sometimes, all you can say is, “well, shit.”
Don’t call me evil; Don’t call this “evil” necessarily, although for all I know it could be the devil or God; just call it a “thing” and move on.
Oh, I meant, you should move on. No, you don’t have to. But I’m kind of stuck to this thing and can’t get about, and I don’t want to hold you back, is all. No, I’m good, I think. I’m sure the hot dog salesman and water boy will come by shortly. I will survive.
Am I stuck to this thing for better or for worse, you ask? (I know you didn’t; I just wanted to be cool, yo.) No clue yet. It doesn’t feel too froggy all the time, but sometimes it’s okay. There are times I think that maybe I can let go, but then I realize that I never could to begin with.
Perhaps answers will come with time. Perhaps it is satanic and I need to be freed from it. Perhaps I need drugs and a really good psychiatrist. Or maybe its just a “thing,” not evil or good, but existing and without remorse for me or anyone else in the world, no matter the shape or form it takes, and not necessarily intentionally evil or harmful.
Just know that I won’t do allow it to harm anyone, if it is bad. I’ll keep this demon sealed away so as to protect my friends. Just have faith in me and don’t call me unclean. I already know I am unclean and incapable of being made so by any human hands. It is not as if I have not sought with all of my heart to be cleansed, nor as if I have not asked for forgiveness and purification and remission of sin. This is me and I cannot change it.
I have no other words to offer anyone concerned for their lives except that if you want to be near me, don’t forget about the wild black panther sealed inside, and the thing clenched (seemingly) irrevocably in its jaws, which may be good or evil or neither, that I cannot remove through any force of nature at my disposal.
Just accept me for who I am. That is all I ask, although even I am having a hard time accepting myself.
Oh, here’s the hot dog man; excuse me. I’m about to get some chilly cheese nitrate-bloated wieners. Do you want any?