What led me to it? Or it to me. Is this overstated? Probably. Circumstances had to be, such as they seemed, meaningless, unless proven otherwise in the court of the mind. Life changing, dying and birthing trauma stained timelines, adding character to the over stretched dura mater. Life is a blessing because of it’s curse. The curse of trauma, to reflect and deepen the contrast of white against red. The monochromatic life is not worth living. Sensation is a spectrum evolved alongside all the others. Inside all the others. I saw both it’s ends and quickly centered. I found safe winds and let go of the helm. I imagine it knew I would.
The apple of my eye. It found me in my reckless abandon, tauntingly tantalizing to every craving. Spotted sugar drips glazed on blushing flesh. Cured and procured by the left hand of Comus. The liberation I anticipated, the one I held in bated breath: To see wisdom, to hear wisdom, to feel wisdom. My day would come even if I demanded it with a fight, because I knew nothing, and not enough to understand wisdom.
Lay before me was a Rolodex. It spun without a destination. From A to Z to A to Z, and on until the letters flung. It stopped. Flag Pole. And then onward again, whizzing powerfully, until- Stop. Bed Frame. This was my bed frame. As was the flag pole. Arbitrary. But this was my memo- It continued, never ceasing. It slapped my face as it spun endlessly with nothing to shield me, my hands where tied. No, my hands where not even- Stop. Tuna Fish Sandwich. This… was not the past. And yet- I can’t breathe, I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t breathe. I ceased to be- Stop. Fridge Magnet. I saw it from the corner of the corner of the corner of my eye. This was the moment, this was the present. I knew it. Now I fought to seize it, straining to anchor my ship away from the fury of rolodex winds in a möbius sea. But the moment was gone. And then returned. And then gone and then returned. Ad Infinitum. Undiluted doom. The Rolodex was growing now distant, but I still shook as it whirled waves of eternal recurrence at me. Through me. Me?
The apple of my eye. I’m proud to have bitten. Or be bitten. In either case we are made whole because fate brought us together and left us both broken. Consumed. Digested. The only addendum is time. A dance that by your testimony will one day lead us to meet again, as it has prior. Until then, I will live in the liberating colors of your torment, on the pages of my never ending Rolodex.