Beyond A Shadow
Tuesday, 21. August 2007, 10:09:24
My mind races with a million and one fears, large and small. The typical ones, not so special, of snakes, or heights, or things that go bump in the night. The atypical ones, painstakingly overcome, of high heels, or small talk, or driving in the slamming rain. Fear propels us, I've come to believe, like an vicious competitor who goads us to victory. Like an unseen hand, pushing us over the imaginary lines we draw in the sand.
My heart, though, races with one fear.
It pounds in terror against the death grip of a single thought that manages, relentlessly, to escape its tidy little box tucked into the dusty recesses of my head, hidden from view. One fear that will not be denied, will not be restrained, unleashing itself into my being as if to remind me, with a resounding, cackling howl, "I am real."
This fear has a name, but no discernible value. And yet it is equipped with an insidious knack for making its presence known in opportunistic moments. When least expected.
Doubt stares at me through my kitchen window. Sneering. "Who do you think you are? Whose beautiful life have you stolen, as if it is your own?" I look down, into the stagnant soapy water, and wonder, too.
Doubt taunts me in the dark of night. "What have you done? What is the point of your waking hours?" I close my eyes, so I can look deep inside myself, and wonder, too.
Doubt grabs me by the throat, in mid-conversation. "Who are you fooling? Who is this person you are pretending to be?" I stammer over my words, choking on them, and wonder, too.
Doubt sings to me in a lilting falsetto that echos in the empty places, reverberating through my veins. "Who are you? Are you anybody? Or are you just a nobody, in a transparent, shallow disguise?" I look in the mirror, straining to see, and wonder, too.
Doubt attaches itself to every arrogance, like an annotated footnote.
"You are a fraud."
I shuffle my feet in their stuck place, hanging my head.
I believe it, too.
Doubt, victorious, temporarily sated, tucks itself back into its tidy little box in the dusty recesses of my mind.
And waits.
My heart, though, races with one fear.
It pounds in terror against the death grip of a single thought that manages, relentlessly, to escape its tidy little box tucked into the dusty recesses of my head, hidden from view. One fear that will not be denied, will not be restrained, unleashing itself into my being as if to remind me, with a resounding, cackling howl, "I am real."
This fear has a name, but no discernible value. And yet it is equipped with an insidious knack for making its presence known in opportunistic moments. When least expected.
Doubt stares at me through my kitchen window. Sneering. "Who do you think you are? Whose beautiful life have you stolen, as if it is your own?" I look down, into the stagnant soapy water, and wonder, too.
Doubt taunts me in the dark of night. "What have you done? What is the point of your waking hours?" I close my eyes, so I can look deep inside myself, and wonder, too.
Doubt grabs me by the throat, in mid-conversation. "Who are you fooling? Who is this person you are pretending to be?" I stammer over my words, choking on them, and wonder, too.
Doubt sings to me in a lilting falsetto that echos in the empty places, reverberating through my veins. "Who are you? Are you anybody? Or are you just a nobody, in a transparent, shallow disguise?" I look in the mirror, straining to see, and wonder, too.
Doubt attaches itself to every arrogance, like an annotated footnote.
"You are a fraud."
I shuffle my feet in their stuck place, hanging my head.
I believe it, too.
Doubt, victorious, temporarily sated, tucks itself back into its tidy little box in the dusty recesses of my mind.
And waits.
