As Close as You Can Come
What's cool about not having any human interaction is that you can immerse yourself in something like a movie and reflect upon your emotions. You've talked to no one in a great while. You haven't spoken, you haven't gone online. When you do go online, it's just to check your email. One says, "I'll give you a call sometime soon!" and you know she won't. The other one is from someone who's grown so distant so fast...she asks why you haven't been around, if you're okay.
Not much makes you feel when you're alone. When you aren't taking walks or talking on the phone or playing some stupid game. Books, homework, dim lights of block housing. None of it makes you feel anything but the same dull hum of sadness you've become accustomed to feeling. So accustomed that it seems like an epiphany to even understand that it is sadness.
Watching a simple program, you find yourself breathing hollow air. Wanting to cradle the characters and be there for them. In the same show, you see things that make you laugh and beam joy.
On the inside, at least. As close as you can come.
Someone at work sarcastically says, "Try not to smile so much," but you've forgotten how. Yesterday you tried to immitate a couple faces you saw people making, but you couldn't do it. You just don't have those facial muscles defined, or don't know how to use them anymore.
You think of what you watched today. An old, generically drawn animation from Japan. Video Girl Ai, it was called. You expected it to suck and didn't really pay much attention in the beginning; it seemed like it'd just turn out to be some perverse crap you'd stop watching before half of it was through.
But it suprised you. Before you lie down to sleep, you'll think about a couple scenes in particular.
A boy's female friend is talking to a fisherman, and he says that you don't always get what you put your line in for. He reels in an old boot and tosses it to her. She finds the boy in his room that night, crying softly with his head on his desk. She notices his photograph of the girl he loves, resting there by his hand. She's just an old boot, she tells him, she should be happy that anyone would reel her in and not be so picky. She'd be very lucky to have him.
The boy, when told this, counters with the Japanese story of a fisherman who uses boots as bait. He can catch anything almost on command, except for angelfish...you can't catch an angel with a boot.
We're all boots, all angels, all casting for something different than we reel in.
Comedy or tragedy, those are the famous options. You don't know. You laugh so little anyway, especially when it comes to your heart. Maybe comedy is just made a choice out of cruelty so that people will have hope.
Don't fish at all, and catch nothing, but lose no time to fishing. Get nothing but old boots and your hunger will not diminish, but you will have at least had some excitement. Maybe you can even catch a fish.
But you don't feel like you can. You think that chances are greater that the fish will hook you, pulling you in after it to drown.
Not much makes you feel when you're alone. When you aren't taking walks or talking on the phone or playing some stupid game. Books, homework, dim lights of block housing. None of it makes you feel anything but the same dull hum of sadness you've become accustomed to feeling. So accustomed that it seems like an epiphany to even understand that it is sadness.
Watching a simple program, you find yourself breathing hollow air. Wanting to cradle the characters and be there for them. In the same show, you see things that make you laugh and beam joy.
On the inside, at least. As close as you can come.
Someone at work sarcastically says, "Try not to smile so much," but you've forgotten how. Yesterday you tried to immitate a couple faces you saw people making, but you couldn't do it. You just don't have those facial muscles defined, or don't know how to use them anymore.
You think of what you watched today. An old, generically drawn animation from Japan. Video Girl Ai, it was called. You expected it to suck and didn't really pay much attention in the beginning; it seemed like it'd just turn out to be some perverse crap you'd stop watching before half of it was through.
But it suprised you. Before you lie down to sleep, you'll think about a couple scenes in particular.
A boy's female friend is talking to a fisherman, and he says that you don't always get what you put your line in for. He reels in an old boot and tosses it to her. She finds the boy in his room that night, crying softly with his head on his desk. She notices his photograph of the girl he loves, resting there by his hand. She's just an old boot, she tells him, she should be happy that anyone would reel her in and not be so picky. She'd be very lucky to have him.
The boy, when told this, counters with the Japanese story of a fisherman who uses boots as bait. He can catch anything almost on command, except for angelfish...you can't catch an angel with a boot.
We're all boots, all angels, all casting for something different than we reel in.
Comedy or tragedy, those are the famous options. You don't know. You laugh so little anyway, especially when it comes to your heart. Maybe comedy is just made a choice out of cruelty so that people will have hope.
Don't fish at all, and catch nothing, but lose no time to fishing. Get nothing but old boots and your hunger will not diminish, but you will have at least had some excitement. Maybe you can even catch a fish.
But you don't feel like you can. You think that chances are greater that the fish will hook you, pulling you in after it to drown.
posted by red at 01:36
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