i wrote a story
5am special
The feeling of going too far is like nothing else: not quite like falling into a bottomless black tunnel; more like having the walls of the world go dark and then start to move upwards at a tremendous speed, leaving you stranded in a shrinking circle of half light. Wave goodbye - will you miss the world? Like a TV turned off, the signal disappearing into a dot on the screen and then gone, unmade, never was. You don’t wonder whether you’re going to be okay - in this strange space ok and not-ok are irrelevant distinctions. You aren’t analysing, you’re not worried, you aren’t anything. You consider the possibility that this is it, everything, the end and you aren’t even disappointed. Is the secret that there is no secret? No-one can tell what happens afterwards because nothing happens no hell no heaven no rebirth no learning no growing just - ending. The shadowless carbon black pools around your feet and you hear a voice shit is she ok and then the walls start to fall away again, you’re rushing into the opening sky, falling upwards like gravity’s distracted. Fuck. Fuck. Crack an eye open and you’re amazed at the quality of the light, it’s seeping, dripping through the trees. Jess dude, you ok? looks like one of those paintings you used to see everywhere, each edge outlined, colours are stained glass. Yeah you say, yeah I’m good. And you are. In a few hours you’ll be throwing a Frisbee to a dog in a park. You’ll be thinking about tomorrow. You’ll pull your sunglasses down and squint into the sun as you turn west onto the coast road, and you’ll feel lucky, and free, and grateful.
The feeling of going too far is like nothing else: not quite like falling into a bottomless black tunnel; more like having the walls of the world go dark and then start to move upwards at a tremendous speed, leaving you stranded in a shrinking circle of half light. Wave goodbye - will you miss the world? Like a TV turned off, the signal disappearing into a dot on the screen and then gone, unmade, never was. You don’t wonder whether you’re going to be okay - in this strange space ok and not-ok are irrelevant distinctions. You aren’t analysing, you’re not worried, you aren’t anything. You consider the possibility that this is it, everything, the end and you aren’t even disappointed. Is the secret that there is no secret? No-one can tell what happens afterwards because nothing happens no hell no heaven no rebirth no learning no growing just - ending. The shadowless carbon black pools around your feet and you hear a voice shit is she ok and then the walls start to fall away again, you’re rushing into the opening sky, falling upwards like gravity’s distracted. Fuck. Fuck. Crack an eye open and you’re amazed at the quality of the light, it’s seeping, dripping through the trees. Jess dude, you ok? looks like one of those paintings you used to see everywhere, each edge outlined, colours are stained glass. Yeah you say, yeah I’m good. And you are. In a few hours you’ll be throwing a Frisbee to a dog in a park. You’ll be thinking about tomorrow. You’ll pull your sunglasses down and squint into the sun as you turn west onto the coast road, and you’ll feel lucky, and free, and grateful.