What do you do when your life spins out of control? You try to swerve out of harm's way, but your wheels are locked and your brakes are jammed, and you're on a collision course for the nearest possible tree or brick wall. And no matter how you play the game, the decks are stacked against you anyway, and the dices are loaded, but not for you.
What do you do when you're an armchair traveller, drifting between worlds and words, wrapped up in the lives of others, of a dream of reality where everyone hurtles towards an elusive, but definite conlusion, and by the time you flip the last page only to find blank white pages, there to remind you that the door of dreaming has been closed to you? And you wake up to reality where life smacks you hard right in the face, and there's no where to run to, no redeeming chapters to hand you a lifeline to what you're going through.
What if you discover that you're inherently self-destructive? That you're afraid of being happy because you know that to float so high up is to set yourself up for a long fall down. That you would rather close yourself off from everyone just so you don't have to think about how they've hurt you before and how they can possibly do it again. That you won't wake up at night in cold sweat after having a nightmare of them turning on you. What if you decide to end it all just so that it doesn't happen, only for you to realize you made the wrong decisions years from now, and it haunts you every other day?
What if you're not Vernon God Little, when life crumbles and you crash and burn and hit rock bottom, expecting to be snuffed out, only to be saved in the last possible second by a divine intervention, a deus ex machina that makes everything alright?
What if there aren't any answers?
-- from 'Faust Is A Play. Your Life is Not.'
. Arigato .
|