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July 13, 2005

Michele: Frayed Ends of Sanity

The questions served to be little fingers untying a rope. Each answer untied a knot, each elaboration revealed worn and frayed spots where the rope had been strained and pulled.

Fourteen half-hour sessions at two hundred dollars a pop, and I got rope metaphors.

Every Tuesday: ropes, knots, frays, loose ends. Live it, he said. Be the rope.

So I untied the knots, the unraveling an exhausting lesson in self-discovery I wasn’t prepared to learn.

In the end, the rope was thousands of metaphorical feet long.

Let’s finish it off.

My note just says “long enough to hang myself with.”

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Comments

What was I just saying, Doctor? I can’t remember. I woke up this morning and everything was wrong. I don’t know this place. I don’t recognize myself in that mirror. I’m old, grey. Something’s wrong. When is this? The last thing I remember was the accident.

[pause]

Did I say something? I don’t recall. But something’s wrong, Doctor. I don’t know this place. The old guy in the mirror there doesn’t look like me. I remember an accident, and then I woke up here. Have I traveled forward in time?

[pause]

What was I just saying? There was an accident....

Posted by: Essay at July 13, 2005 11:12 AM · Permalink