On dots

Sometimes I feel like one of E’s drawings.

You start from a small black dot, a small point, a little boy peering into a dot, which becomes a telescope, and then suddenly a whole universe appears from that dot and you shiver from that realization that only you alone understand the sight of this world and there was a little bit of hidden darkness in that dot only the little boy could tell you he could see.

Or something along those lines.

It started from a little bit of sadness, a little aching inside, with a little optimism and beginning papers. Then, at night, in the few moments before sleep, suddenly I was peering into that darkness and a blend of unhappy memories was advancing towards me like crinkled shadows. I grimace and reached for my cat but she did not understand.

Slowly I thought of reaching to someone to hide from that darkness, and I called slowly numbers from around the world which hide in my awakening memory like daffodils. But everyone seems busy tonight. There is work, there are cases, there is a kid to bring up and a vodka bar to fill, and slowly after twelve phone calls I am well and truly alone. There is no one to share a minute when there is darkness. I begin to remember a certain fear, when I was seventeen and I had just broken up with C, and there was the same darkness, and I begun calling, the same numbers but in different orders, one after the other, reaching at stems of daffodils.

There was darkness, and there were artificial songs on the radio, and there were words that I did not understand. I start to realize that I am well and truly alone, that there is no one to talk to in the darkness, a cat that does not understand, and the daffodils belong to the light.

I was seventeen and I was alone in darkness and people were happy when I was talking to them in the light. I am now twenty two and working and similarly there are daffodils in the light and only my own echos in the shadows.

Should I disconnect?


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