Sunday, October 23, 2016

Ghosts in the Void

Teenage Angst in that Mode
Upon a time, I looked into the Nothing. But since I was so certain then—having just discovered surety—I did not see it for what it was. I populated the Negative with fragments of reflected selves and those outside me in the light that made the world: the Not-Ada. How certain I was. How everywhere it was. How much I made it me.

As they moved in circles of light and iridescent happiness, I remained in the darkness. You know who we are. We remain on the frontiers, occasionally letting the anger in our jokes flash out.

“That’s a good one…” may be forgotten by you in minutes, but I would hold onto it for a year, writing it down on college ruled lines next to the nascent work like this, borrowing—as all language does—from others. Sometimes your name and mine were written together, my last name became yours so sodden was I to be possessed: I was certain it was the way out of the void.

“You didn’t have it all bad…”

A few friends of mine say this and I agree with them. I’m far enough away to know that there is no competition in the Void. We only bring that nonsense there ourselves.

Ghosts in the Void: across all that lost time.

I didn’t fill the Void with wine coolers. Three men did not rape me like Heather at that party. I did not fall off the back of Tom’s motorcycle into the Void like Anna. I did not get pregnant and abandoned like Carmen and I never ate my mother’s sleeping pills to disappear forever from the men I loved like Kyle. I did not vomit into the Nothing until I died like Melanie.

My heart was not yet fully formed. I did not understand. These whispers waited in the Void until I was older and they haunt me now—a kind of eternal homecoming.

The Void is not hungry. It will not kill you. It does not look back into you and find you wanting for breasts, a perfect nose. The man who completes you.

The Not-You is empty and therein you will not find an answer.

So make one.

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