It's going be a long night she thought. She lingers in tiny corridors in her mind, choosing the smallest corner in the wide space that seems endlessly getting larger from the outside only to corner her in the smallness of the space she offers herself. An office, she sits at 1:00am in an office, with a lamp shade, turning off the lights and lighting up a lamp shade, with her mug, the one she bought, her choice, the ultimate meaning of her existence to choose, her calendar the one she chose to represent the fluidness of her days that she hardly tries to make sense of and create meaning to. Her laptop on which she writes words that make life seem extremely professional, updated and sincerely not off topic, seriously absurd as compared to how her perception incepts her to think. With spectacles sitting on the desk, looking serene weirdly though being the only item lying there on the big brown desk glowing of gloat with its serenity. She turns through her boxed corner to the candle on the edge of the desk in jeopardy to be over thrown by the summoned anguish 1:00am bitchy night. She turns to the candle; pink wrapped in bath cloth dangling from it a small paper written on it with love, SHOUT!! She leaves the candle, turns to her laptop and opens what's the farthest resemblance to a music box and chooses with fear boiling up in her heart, hands trembling, sweating with heated feverish stoned eyes domed to direct her finger tips to that single song in the album, Camel's SHOUT.
Another day, I might have found the words to say, all the things I meant to say, all the years that passed between, you never understood the meaning of my way….If I could have it otherwise, I'd chase the demons from your eyes to ease your soul….
She thought, about nothing but her own pretences, her own lack of self, she wanted to be the one who would chase those demons to ease her soul. She felt the only problem was finding a soul to save, everyone looked through her and saw, found and touched something that she could never recognize as her own, a soul, so beautifully capturing and sad, the kind of sadness that seems very seductive, like those 2 minutes in a French movie when there is nothing at all happening, no dialogue, no friction but your eyes moving in solitude with the screen only to notice that you have been granted the godly power of not breathing for 2 minutes simply to produce an ah that breaks your heart and yet restore you back to sanity.
The music of the song, the words, the urge to SHOUT, the memories and remedies, only stabilize her night for a second, to each her own she felt, she wanted to dwell into eternal meaningless ideas, one after the other, making logical conversations inside her head, logical and cohesive only to her, to solidify the unique and untangled relationship she has with herself, but what good would that bring, when the world goes on, when life moves ahead, her hair doesn't get gray but her skin does, her feet gets smaller as her ass gets bigger, as happy hour means coffee break. Isn't that the reality, might that not be the truth beyond her being. That epiphany of that dawning night she just waited for, for so long; finally arriving as her fairly gendered prince charming. That she too shall pass, like all else, she needed not worry about lasting for as the world shall live, she needed not worry about the child she will never have, the floor un-cleaned, book unread, life unlived….
She stopped for a moment, paused, frizzed as she realized that time is ticking and it’s a matter of seconds before she has to make the choice. It's not like she rented a serial killer, but it's just a matter of integrity, going round and round to buy those pills and getting him involved to write her a prescription and getting him involved to know she is depressed but not that much, not to the extend to be hospitalized again, not to the extend to come see him in his new Clinique not to the extend to let the nurse point at her and say that's the crazy bitch. Anyways, just involved to know she wanted the Prozac for the night to end, just this night and all is turning well enough for everyone, strange he didn’t get the hint of everything turning well for all. But yet again, it's not about him now, is it?
To make a choice tags along promises and fair deals. To go down the stairs since the elevator doesn't work on the way down, to meet him, to take the Prozac, to swallow the pills, to stop the breathing process, to end the beating heart, to end the lingering in tiny corridors in her mind. To stop, to finish what she didn’t start, to draw a line and write the end. She felt the horror, of the un-beating heart, but why can't she just find another way to spend her sleepless nights, cant she just drive around the city rather than stare at a darkening screen. There must be something doable. There must be a damned soul somewhere, a soul that she can harass just to stop the un-beating heart from un-beating. To make a choice thus tags along promises and fair deals. Why not just end the night and figure out the tangling others along the hallucinations of the sleepless dawning nights, for being a coward seriously can save your life she thought. She knew, it is definitely going be a long night.