Aren't You?
There was more to that question when it was posed to me at some ungodly hour Saturday night. In my slightly alcoholified state, I didn’t catch on to the implications of the first part of the question and laughed it off with a joke. It just didn’t occur to me what was being said.
It’s occurred now.
With the realization of what’s been going on lately in my life, I’ve got a thousand questions and no answers. I’ve got vague ideas and no concrete anything anymore. I don’t know how to escape it - but I can’t escape anyway, because that would be shirking my responsibility and duty and obligation and I don’t do that. And some small parts of me are dying and others are metamorphosing in ways I think are not me. I don’t like any of this and I don’t know what to do about it. I’m trying to go on with my life and it’s not cooperating because everywhere I turn, something gets in the way or underfoot or tackles me from behind without warning and puts the proverbial knife to my throat. All I know is that I cannot go on like this much longer, because I’m about to break. I don’t break. That’s not what I do. But they say everyone has a breaking point. Mine is too close. And what’s worse is that I’m breaking in ways I never thought possible and I don’t much care for the fact that I’m losing control. And I don’t do that either.
And all this begs the important question now twice asked...once directly, once indirectly...
Am I?
It’s occurred now.
With the realization of what’s been going on lately in my life, I’ve got a thousand questions and no answers. I’ve got vague ideas and no concrete anything anymore. I don’t know how to escape it - but I can’t escape anyway, because that would be shirking my responsibility and duty and obligation and I don’t do that. And some small parts of me are dying and others are metamorphosing in ways I think are not me. I don’t like any of this and I don’t know what to do about it. I’m trying to go on with my life and it’s not cooperating because everywhere I turn, something gets in the way or underfoot or tackles me from behind without warning and puts the proverbial knife to my throat. All I know is that I cannot go on like this much longer, because I’m about to break. I don’t break. That’s not what I do. But they say everyone has a breaking point. Mine is too close. And what’s worse is that I’m breaking in ways I never thought possible and I don’t much care for the fact that I’m losing control. And I don’t do that either.
And all this begs the important question now twice asked...once directly, once indirectly...
Am I?