An Invisible, Intangible, Infuriating Agony

Oh, there you are, again. Gentle, quiet, authoritative. You’ve come without an invitation. You’ve come unannounced. You’ve brought with yourself the tools of torture. Some memories, some apprehensions, some pain, some assumptions. I see a meaningless guilt is accompanying you. And restlessness is there too.

Well, come. I don’t know how to turn you away.  Come and take charge of this life—a life not yours but still hangs at your mercy. Come. Sit. Narrate those scary stories. Flood me with loathing and disgust.

Spin my head around. Weave fears of lies. Engulf me in your painful comfort. Hug me tight. Don’t let me breathe. Teach me to bear. Fill me with this agitation. Oh, is that restlessness for me?

I will keep it, store it, treasure it. It’s here to stay, I know. I have a place for it all ready and polished. What’s that? Guilt is staying over too? Well, the more the merrier.

Would you like a cup of tea? Or perhaps 8 or 10? Can I put on some TV for you? No? You’d rather I work? Okay. Oh, you don’t want me to do that anymore? Okay. How about I read you a book? Yes? Here it goes. Oh wait. That’s not interesting? Never mind. We’ll move on to something else. Would you like to eat? Can I cook something? No? That’s too much effort? How about we sit and talk to my family? No. You’d rather I be alone. Of course.

What can I do for you, master? What’s that? You just want me to stay. Lie still. Stare into space. You just want me to listen. What am I listening to?

Alright, I have heard this one before. It’s a record from infinity ago. It talks about this pointless existence. Oh, this one is from the heartbreak. Okay, okay, I know this one. It’s the one with the fear of failure. And this is the one that says none of it matters. I remember. I remember all of them.

You want me to listen to them again? Well, okay. I am here.

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