Nothing. I know not one thing to be certain. Not one fucking thing rings true except the stories I share, and they are only my limited perception. – Jaqueline Cioffa
Time is the mystery, the teaser, and the uncertain 4th dimension that cuts the heart muscle and bleeds blue. Red is saved for fury and anger, and the heart is way too many shades of grey to decipher.
I’m uncertain I’ll be here tomorrow, and I’m ambivalent.
I am even less certain I care. These are certainly the ugliest times to live in.
Perhaps, the Conquistadors with their killing swords and brutal ways who showed no mercy thought the very same.
Can grey be just as beautiful, telling and poignant as the warmth of a golden sun? Can the sea be a healer when one is landlocked and surrounded by tall buildings, bridges, or fancy Coffee Shops? Certainly, the buoyant salt water feels weightless and worry free for some. Others perhaps can’t float, flailing their arms as they sink slowly under murky waters, their lungs drowning with water. Silly me, I look around and am most certainly surrounded by cement, 360 degrees, and an overzealous imagination.
I watch people fixated on their Unsmart Phone screens playing Two Dots or shooting aliens, like some antiquated game of Pac Man. Guilty, I am guilty of losing myself inside the world of Social Media make-believe. 995 emails to read, and 990 are junk. Garbage. I fantasize smashing the screen with the heel of my boot losing touch with non-reality, and wandering aimlessly as time my imaginary binary friend passes.
On the overcrowded, forlorn, dirty subway I wonder. Does anyone even remember his or her own name so lost inside the monotone of living, trivial bullshit scrolling through the brain like a computer chip? What designer garb should I wear today? What should I have for lunch? Should I go to the gym, even though it’s damp and grey? Will I beat my boss in, and will she like the presentation? Am I that desperate to be seen?
Death and old age promise no one cares about fucking spreadsheets, your simple speck of existence, the blip of time is almost over the day you shot out of the birthing canal. There is certainty knowing all the pain was wasted, and all the joy was gained. It’s just as simple and basic as the breath we take for granted.Uncertain as the odd creature of habit, day-to-day routine lover that evolves slowly at first and burning all at once, a snake’s slithering venom coursing through the veins.
Why the fuck do people purposely elbow each other in crowds? Is it anger, frustration, selfishness, self-protection? Uncertain and perplexed, I am. Most certainly, they’re having a shitty day and it’s only 9 am. Seems too early for so much hate and madness. God forbid they don’t want anyone soiling their $2,500.00 YSL bag, or fancy, posh, bullshit, Sunday best, day of the dead threads.
Food tastes the same adorned in Gap, Old Navy or Gucci. So why does the striking blond eating a taco behind me throw a look filled with so much rage? Ouch. Uncertain, I know nothing about her, except her blue eyes cutting the back of my skull like a razor blade. And still I feel the sharp edge, and try to deflect the dark energy, bounce it back into space. I can’t help but wonder, is it me? Do I remind her of some ugly past, an unpleasant resemblance of someone who cheated with her boyfriend or husband perhaps, or some bully from grade school, whatever. Maybe she’s just plain old hate, blasé.
Petty ugliness won’t ruin my day, not today. Today I am uninterested in the past as the moment passes when she departs. I sip a Café con Leche, shrugging it off. Crap. I don’t like people. Most are slaves to some form of superficiality or false identity, fake perceptions, ideas, dreams that never came. Or came and went, dissatisfied. Time does not stay stuck like the rest of us.
Certainly, the truth is raw and not very pretty. Isn’t it better, to say okay I’m human and I come preordered with mistakes? Destiny, inspiration, sappy quotes and romantic movies provide some distraction from the uncertainty that is certainly happening.
Death. Dare I say? Will it come for me today? I’ve already told you I don’t care. Because if time is truly an invisible mirror I’ve sneaked a peak, and most certainly there have been times when I did not like the person staring back, the complete and utter stranger. I’m lucky to have reflection reminders. I’ve had all types of different loves in my life. Sometimes temporary and uncertain, other times solid, steadfast and true.
I can be selfish, I forget not everyone is that lucky.
Certainly love is all we take away from here. Thank god there are no mirrors, phones or distractions. To have known humans, real people in life that were constants, who showed up and enjoyed your company even at your ugliest is enough. There is grace in simple and dependable. I don’t need a psychic or fourth dimension to show me a different, cooler, updated version of myself. I’ve played Russian roulette with too many facades and painted faces already.To be young, younger than yesterday filled with internal dilemmas is not all it’s cracked up to be. The answers are unknown, plain and simple. There are none.
So gather your courage and kindness, shake off the bullshit, and learn how to live.
Then relearn how to live like you weren’t dying already, love freely without asking anything in return, and laugh from the most absurd, ridiculous place in your broken down, beat up, spirit’s heart. Smile human tears through the uncertainty that is your time on this impermanent place we call earth.
Home is a different and sacred blank slate for someday when the breath dies and the soul awakens.