How long does pain last?
Will the pain of a razor stop when I put it down? Will my OCD listen when everything is in order? And if I have thoughts of suicide, will I be fixed when I decide not to jump?
Is a cure a solution?
An apple a day keeps the doctor away. That’s what they say. They love to say.
Adding a bit of warmth to the faucet, my hands continue to bath in the sink of an unknown bathroom. Flying high my thoughts continue to grow on themselves.
A boy with blue eyes. So blue they say. Obsessively, they say over and over again as they look into the dreamy blue and try to see what the eyes see.
And what do these eyes see? As I look into the bathroom mirror with a slight shake as the eighth shot settles, my thoughts become a bit more clouded.
Gazing into those deep blues, I know they want something, anything. I watch as they look upon every detail of my face. They focus on the curve of my eyebrows as they flutter to stay center. They watch as my mouth does the work of my nose as the mirror begins to fog.
As I huff and puff, the eyes keep looking. They find my ears and wonder what they hear. A fellow explorer, but not nearly as skilled as the eyes. The eyes see everything, while the ears can only listen.
But upon this desperate search, the eyes forget to check where they began. If the deep blues had only taken a second to look ahead. Ahead, they would see an ocean. Beautiful, yes of course, but the ocean is a dangerous place.
They would see a storm with waves crashing on one another. Ruthlessly fighting to be on top of the other, the attempt to dominate would be endless. And as this war rages on, the clouds would continue to darken. Growing in shades, the clouds continue to laugh at the waves, for they were all inferior to the crystalized water vapor that danced above them. And as these water vapors came together they let down their powers of lightning and rain simply because they could.
And if only they saw what not even the eyes can look at. What would they have to say then?
Around and around and around I go. With thoughts like these bouncing, so do I. Consciousness becomes too abstract, and my eyes forget what is center as they fail me once again.
Falling onto my back, my right-hand hits the toilet and goes for a swim. Good thing I flushed.
Drunk, hurt and confused, nothing new.
How did I get here?
Closing my eyes, I pull myself together. Wiping my right-hand clean on my khaki pants, I take a deep breath.
Count to ten they say, then it’s all better.
Glancing at the toilet, I see my reflection moving with the small ripples in the water. Crashing into each other, the toilet water distorts my image. But sometimes, the bent views are the truest.
What did I see in the toilet water?
That night, a child. A scared child.
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