What could have been or should have been but wasn’t, is how we live. Like cards falling upon the table, floating down upon the felt green for all to see. One wins or loses or breaks even, but there is the inevitable accounting. Our lives in stop motion, because it is only after the fact that we can see in detail and with understanding. The moment after the change is when we realize who and what we have become.
I don’t think I could go on without her. If she dies, what will there be? The question seeps into my mind almost every hour and I can’t sleep and she is there in front of me, darkly and just so. You never knew me she says. You never knew who I was because you didn’t bother to look and as if in a dream her hands turn over and over again, smooth and white like the wings of a bird, yet I am not dreaming. I am awake and she is really there in front of me.
Together we hold each other on the ledge. It is our nature.
I don’t hear voices in my head. I only hear one voice. It is a strong female voice, very calm. Please understand that I’m not talking about my conscience. It is not the voice that chastises or encourages me. No, this is a voice that is different. It is scary and the auditory sister of my optic migraines, the ones that turn my eyes into acid trips. I have never been to a psychiatrist, but if I ever did, he or she might diagnose me with a mild form of schizophrenia. Perhaps…but I really don’t want to know. I just live with the visions and the female voice and do the best I can. I have lived this way for a long time. I think I was in my late teens when I discovered that most people had neither the voice nor the visions. I was in the sensory minority, so to speak, and I set out to find someone like me, someone with the same conditions. I was looking for fellowship. My efforts were unsuccessful. Over time I became embarrassed and stopped asking people. Imagine these lines: “I really like you and I was wondering if you had a female or even male voice in your head that sounds like someone is calling you from the next room, confronting you with uncomfortable ideas…sort of, right?” Better yet, “When you are driving or maybe eating in a restaurant, do you sometimes have an unexpected acid trip? You know, it’s so strong you have to stop the car or leave the table and you might find yourself lying on the grass, conscious, but not really there. Something like that? No? Yes?”
There are somethings we need to keep secret I guess, but like a friend of mine once said, “Mom, I’m not born in the wrong body, I’m born in the wrong society.”
I’m hoping for a new planet someday and I feel it is almost within my grasp. I will watch the cards as they fall upon the well-lite table of my life affording me the same opportunities as fasting monks about to eat dry bread.