[Please keep in mind that this is entirely a work of fiction!]
I agonized on the drive home over all the things in my heart that are currently disturbing me. I counted them, numbered them, schemed.
And I remembered those who loved me.
When I arrived at home I would attend to them first, discussing with them some important plans that had been eluding me, some important issues that were facing us as a family. We would discuss them and come to terms, and invoke a plan, and follow it. All would be well.
And once it was well, I would retire to my cave and seek out the things that distress me in my own heart. There I would agonize over them in the darkness as I do now.
There I would attend to them and make them my own. I would not name them, no they would name me. And I would touch every pain in every dark corner of my soul. I would poke at each and disturb it, because I could no longer bear not knowing each distortion by name. I could no longer bear hiding from myself my own sins.
It didn't work out this way.
I arrived at home and unleashed my anguish on those I loved. We discussed those things that had been eluding us, but through an agony of phrases and misspent words. We came to terms, but fell short of invoking a plan. There were tears and there was love and there were hugs and affection.
And then a moment or two of peace.
Now I retire to my cave to attend to my foolishness, to touch the places that hurt so that I know I am alive. I stare into the darkness, hoping to see a glimmer of some incandescent beauty that will nourish my soul. But all I see is the darkness, staring back at me like a bitter black mirror.
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