perseverance by sam brown
Her barrier is like my own. Simple statements are shared to test the other’s resolve. Oblivious, she plays the perfect role. I, knowingly chained, am the expected child. I press the phone firmly to my ear to keep the wind out. The meaningless words are shared. I walk slow circles around the balcony.
The false pretense for contact is concluded and the silence allows for our individual arming. Long have I prepared. All the played out exchanges resurface and I find my familiar ground.
“What have you decided?” She knows the answer but follows protocol.
“You first.” I know her thoughts but still find peace in unvoiced opinion.
“The same as always. Limited research, self-effacing argument.” As she speaks, my mind twists in disgust. I can’t believe this anymore… She must see the other view.
“Like before… But stronger; more dangerous.” I respond with no attempts at smoothing. I feel raw… I want her to know.
She’s so afraid. Her silence reeks of uncertainty. Maybe I shouldn’t go so far, so fast.
“It’s the path of others,” I continue, “Others so much like me; it’s the path I want.”
It’s the path she fears above all others. It’s the one that takes from her, control. And not just control of me, but of herself. How she so hopes that she is right. Her being literally exists on this belief. I care so much, and it hurts so bad. How can I lie? With a single truth, I hold power to break life. How many years has she existed in this exact state… So convinced, she saw no other path. What is her life if there was another way? But not now, there is an alternative.
“I know, I understand, but things change.” She knows the connection to me. She views it as her own. I criticize myself in hopes she’ll see. I can see her curl with discomfort at the expected.
It’s so cold outside. The wind cuts at my fingers. I run my nails against my lips trying to find the soft comfort of the expected. There is an itch in my brain. Do you feel it just like that? I try to relax but I’m slipping.
“Things change.” I shake my hand. My head feels like it’s twisted wrong. There is no middle ground for balance. I try to balance the scale but it won’t even out. Just move it to the right… and then the left. Back and forth a little… Just make it even. And my hand! I grab onto my jacket in desperation, but it’s too late now. My hand has joined the show, dancing the pattern of balance… searching for release.
“Always they change and here I stand.” I am pacing too fast now. My body jerks and I don’t know why. I’m losing control and I can’t seem to remember how to breathe. I’m panting but I remember the words to say.
“Oh God, it hurts so bad.” Now come the tears. How the face contorts to wring them from my eyes. What a spectacle. What a show. I throw the phone to the other ear. Shake the other hand now. All things must follow the laws of balance. Senseless… Irate… I just want her to finally understand. I screw my face in ugly accusation.
“I see them, do you see them? Look at them! Look how they smile. They’re in the prime of their life!”
I scream as I lose hold. My rogue body convulses, desperately trying to remember how to exact control. Just make it right! Make it the way it’s supposed to be! They all stand there, so happy and free. What am I? I try so hard but they look away, embarrassed. I can’t even smooth my face. How sorry they feel. They thank their god for blessings unshared. They pray for strength in the presence of the freak. Each tear is a new reason to loathe; a reason justify. Frantic now, I search for air. Scarcely found, it brings no relief. The bitter words are hardly heard between the sobs.
“Where is my life? Where is my prime?”
She’s crying now. I don’t want it. God, what did I expect? She feels responsible, should she? Her pain is mine. It feeds my own. What a sick cycle. The misery spreads through my body. Each drop witnesses the progression of pain. I feel no connection to this thing which houses my soul. I just want to be free from it all. But… that’s not right either. Is it? What a beautiful thing given… And so much promised… Where is the resolution? She’s talking again.
“You are strong. You are progress. Don’t let it steal you now. All life has been preparation. The inadequacy has made you so much. Don’t stop now. Don’t stop.”
The tears anew but they feel different now. I take a slow gaze across the inner expanse and realize there is no more struggle for control. And while there is no battle for power, I am not alone. Is this what they tell me about? Is this how it’s supposed to feel? I am so alone and yet there is that love. It is so cold but I rejoice in the warmth.
Understanding brings guilt. It was never meant to keep others out. It was a gift. While heavy and awkward… it is strong… and it is big. Why did I ever think to shield myself against the thoughts of others? I see now that there is enough room inside for many. How often have I seen and felt their fears but refused to share? I tried to protect myself against the pain that they felt… the pain that sourced from within. I think I understand now. But does it honestly make a difference? When does understanding translate into action? A thousand promises made and broken and here… here I stand.
I have a plan but I can be patient.
All my life I’ve waited, what are days?
I can delay the slow process for hopes of correct and intelligent progression. Why dive into uncertain waters?
Right?
