Perhaps It’s Just Me

 The devil is tugging ever so gently on my coattails. I am not particularly interested in whatever it is he might want, so I will just sit here until he tires from lack of recognition. If I hold my breath I can hear their world, so I must keep breathing along with the gentle whirring of the AC. Finding my own rhythm, despite how clearly their electronic bass drums thud from molecule to molecule in the open air. Funny how we call it that: Open air. It has never felt particularly open, or airy. I find the outside world rather prison-like. It is imposing. Much like wandering around a zoo, but flipped on its head. Their captivity is freedom as some of us wander around taking note of what is going on in those metaphorical cages. The more we learn, the more we wonder which side of the cages we are on.

Artwork by Müge Olçum

In this moment, I make a promise to myself: To not mention any item from the static list of gripes I have. I refuse to give any of it precise explanation. No more wandering through my mind for descriptions of complaint. Just know that it is there, and while I might not be able to switch off my awareness of it, I can reduce the amount of time I dedicate to it whilst it is not close to me. I can reduce that to zero; the grand sum of all its meaning. Perhaps I am not quite ready to practice gratitude, but I can practice neglect.

I wonder why the devil has come to me today. He is asking me to leave my isolation and sobriety. Loosen up, exchange a few words. He will sell it to me as the possibility of being pleasantly surprised. That’s exactly what you would do too. You might even go so far as to say it is healthy for me. Share a story or two. Listen to the sound that two glasses make when they meet each other in toast and call it some form of friendship. I can no longer answer those questions that inevitably come, and I can no longer take seriously those who ask them. Watch and study, now from afar. That is plenty, if not too much. 

I keep dreaming about those small log cabins situated next to streams at the foot of imposing mountains. I dream of going quietly insane there, watching my dogs try to catch fish, and coming up short. Occasionally having to bandage a paw or take to the stream myself to avoid starvation. I wonder how long an individual can converse with only themselves and not travel to the irreversible portions of insanity. Surely we would last longer than we would if were to sit still like this and listen to the small child upstairs repeatedly dropping a marble on the tile floor and watching it bounce.  

What do you do when the lessons you are learning seem to be for you only? I recently made the discovery that the best hours of life are between 4am and 8pm. Anything after that is wasted time. The silence and coolness of the early morning are the only part of the day that is truly peaceful. Very little moves. There are no other tempos trying to tease you into following them. Throughout my life, whenever I sleep too close to someone, I find myself matching their breathing, but their breaths have always been far too shallow for me so I eventually find myself out of breath and have to move away. This is how life feels once the sun comes up. When you wake up at 4am the brain and body are energized up until around 6pm, and then they start to relax. By eight, there is nothing left of any use. Only a fool would move around in those hours unless they had to. Of course, there are occasions that call for adaptation. Life wouldn't be life without them, but as a rule, 4am to 8pm are the most important hours for anyone trying to preserve themselves as themselves. 

With that said, the clock informs me that I have overstayed my welcome, and I must wish you bon nuit. Soon I will be outside watching the darkness fade to give way to the silhouettes of the mountain ranges as the path in front of me gradually projects further and further in front of me. By the time I am back inside, the first motorbikes will be driving by. Their passengers, blurry-eyed, either heading home intoxicated or not-so-ready to begin meeting the demands of the early shift. I will stand under the cold shower and ask myself the same question I always do. "How much of this is this, and how much of it is me?"