I don’t want to go into details. I can’t go into details. For various reasons. But mostly because I just don’t feel like being on the receiving end of commentary. And yes, I can write and not make the piece public. Or I can post the piece but disable the comments. None of it is me. And these days, I’m all about me being me. Good or bad, here I am.
For a few weeks now I’ve been tossing around an idea, something that will involve time and money and effort that all works toward an uncertain outcome. Maybe I’ve talked about it, maybe I haven’t; the it isn’t important. You just need to know that what I’m talking about runs deep. It aches my bones and sours my stomach, it consumes my mind and curls my toes, and no matter how I tear it apart, it always gets put back together the same way.
It’s as if I dumped out a box of Legos - some red and others blue, some small and others large. Every day I parcel them out according to size. Every day I mix them back up and make piles according to color. I then swipe my hand across it all, an open palm and splayed fingers tossing the bricks in different directions Then I build. I snap them together. I pull them apart. And no matter how I adjust my creation, it always looks the same.
My biggest struggle is to understand why I’m putting it together to begin with. I mean, they’re fucking Lego’s. Mere pieces that are nothing if left to linger in a pile. And even when they are clicked together, are they anything more than what they were before? Perhaps, yes. Most definitely, yes. But in the end, does it matter? I mean red is red, blue is blue. Does it change one bit if connected to a larger being?
It is a struggle between want and need, two things that I see as the same. But what if I already have what I need and it isn’t what I want. Or if what I want isn’t what I need? That’s when I melt inward. That’s when I stand in the dairy aisle and shop for milk even though I have no cereal. My eyes glaze over and I glide the tip of my tongue up and down against the back of my bottom teeth. I do it without thinking and I have to will myself to stop. Half of the time I just keep at it, the soothing sentiment of soft flesh against hard enamel calming my nerves, offering a moment of peace.
I know I’m making no sense. I know you want details and explanations. You’re wondering if the red stands for a steady stream of blood or my guarded heart or an apple. Maybe blue is the way I feel or the color of the pants I’m wearing or my political slant as the primary nears. How funny would it be if all I am talking about is a bag of M&M’s and the two colors I eat last? Read it how you wish. Attach meaning however you desire. Give it a go or let it just lie; doesn’t really matter to me. Like I already said, I’m not here to discuss the intimate details.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll get an acceptance letter from one of the programs I applied to. Maybe the day after I’ll stub my toe on the treadmill eating up the space in my dining room. And on Wednesday, oh I totally know that on Wednesday I’ll harmonize with Kanye West as I scream the lyrics to Stronger, my car idling at a red light and the people next to me watching in awe through the two panes of glass that protect us from one another. Maybe on Thursday I’ll stumble through the door at half past ten, pour a glass of wine and listen to Diana Krall’s A Taste of You. And without a doubt I’ll cry. I always do. Some things I understand while others I question. None of it stops me from doing it. None of it. I build it up. I knock it down. It always comes out the same.