Bent Words

Bent Words

February 27, 2009

We trade understanding for pride and complacency. We relinquish all ties of an emotional frenzy for what we perceive as fortitude. We hold up our walls hoping to guard ourselves against the enemy of pain and we laugh in the face of destruction -- throwing it easily over our shoulders, walking away from the very adversity and complexity that attracted us in the first place.

We think we know above all others what flows through the minds of those we love and so we trade inquiries for conclusions.

We take for granted all those things that should be known, the movements that should be easy, the pieces that should have been already put together.

We trade the truth of it all -- the unsorted parts -- for blanketed bits of reality.

And so we lose.

We learn to dole out our days out in snippets. What we believe can be handled and we know cannot ever be. In that, we lose so much that we can no longer look each other in the face. We disassociate ourselves from hardened bits of inconsistency and find ourselves tripping over the bumps that we once said we could make it through.

We pretend we're not that interested, that such affecting moments don't affect us -- we pretend we do not care because such emotions are above us and what respect can be had for such an impetuous person? We've not time for that -- to succumb to such selfishness. We'll save all that for sappy movies and foolish novels, never categorizing it into honesty, ardor and sympathy. We'll retract our statements, respectfully, hoping never to cross that professional, impersonal line. It will be the booze talking or the stress overcoming or the wife nagging or the husband forgetting -- it will never be, however, owned.

And so we fail.

In reaching out, in a simple inquiry, in a mere second glance or a helping hand. We'll feign indifference before we'll take responsibility for what we claimed to be committed to. Against all odds are too high of odds to hope for and so we'll beg and wander for the ease of it all. The straight path, the clear goal, the monotony of our days. Ignoring the sirens of a tragedy we don't yet own... yet.

We're safer that way.

Look the other way. Hope it doesn't happen to you. Leave your dollar at the door. Retract a knowing glance.

I am guilty too...

Written at 10:24 p.m.