Away from Me is All

I didn't see a point in having him at all. He didn’t seem to fit in anywhere. If when you are examining the pieces of your life, the characters and bits that surround you, doesn't everyone and everything deserve an active role? And if they are actively participating, as each character in your scene should, shouldn't they add to your plot? If above the fireplace, hangs a rifle, by the end of the play that rifle needs to be shot. Why then, do we hold onto those that do not contribute anything to the storyline? One could say that their mere being suggests some sort of role, or else why would you even mention them? The fact that they are being considered at all must mean something. What it means, I'm afraid, is that they only exist on your surface, so why be there at all?

That was when I decided. What was the point in having him there at all? His meager role was so bit, that to just remove his reference wouldn't be a jolt to the flow of things in the least. In fact, it wasn’t a role at all, at least not anymore. Once removed, any thought of him would dissolve, as if he had never been here to begin with. That thought made me smile, the sheer power of the dissolve tactic. It was that simple. I did not wish harm, or ill will. It was not bitterness or spite that fueled this clean slate. It was his uselessness. His vast mediocrity that lent nothing was what frayed my nerves, and I must admit, the occasional glance at him, the slip of memory, left only blankness; no feeling whatsoever. This nothingness devastated me, for vanity’s sake alone. I must feel, must conjure up some response to outside stimuli or what is the point of being alive?

It is something I had never given much thought to. The process of taking things in, them having some sort of affect on you, you respond. Obvious course of events that I’d taken for granted. But these steps hadn’t been followed with him. If you eat a bland sandwich, and are hungry, the lack of taste is overlooked, as it is serving a far greater purpose. Yes, we’d all like to devour deliciousness in every meal, but sometimes the end result surpasses the minute details of such things as flavor. However, if you are not in search of nourishment, do not look for this substance to put a stomp to your hunger, why does it brush your lips, leaving no savoring whatsoever? Why would you go through the motions of something with no taste? I always have an answer or maybe have just stumbled upon one now. Why would I? I would not. That which finds it’s way to my plate remains there out of an active decision I made. If it does not contribute to my fulfillment, comfort, enjoyment it will not be eaten.

The disposal act sounds harsh when put so bluntly. I do not discard without thought, casting aside all that does not suite me at first glance. Oh, quite the contrary. Overturning until dizziness ensues leads me to such conclusions. The decision is not a hasty one, but lessens in time as each situation presents itself. I am learning, although do not think I will ever have an immunity to being immune. The nerve endings have worn and re-grown; singed once shame on me, singed twice, let it devour. It’s experience that has moved me forward, for that which has been has made me. But it is a nugget center, a Tootsie Pop of a way to live. Where is that owl, who will one, two, three me? Have you ever had someone tell you something about yourself that you already knew, but it just sounded odd when it fell in your ears? As if their perception of your reality had escaped even you? When you hear how people have picked up on what you’ve been so carefully laying down, it’s an odd feeling. It’s as if a secret of yours that you’ve not kept to yourself, has been told to someone new. It’s unnerving, scary and exhilarating all wrapped up into one single revelation about yourself, told by someone else. Although, it’s not really a revelation if you’ve already revealed it. It’s just away from me, is all.