My room is
surrounded with water that I don’t drink. Bottles that won’t think and that I
won’t drink. The 2:1 ratio of hydrogen
to oxygen is supposed to be good for me. My high school chemistry teacher once
referred to water as “the ultimate solvent”. So why can’t it solve anything
right now? This teacher also had a picture of his wife swimming in a hotel pool
with Ozzy Osbourne, so maybe I shouldn’t count on his judgment.
I often
adopt new theories or idioms to live by. I try and I fail. Ironically, they
make me feel worse. But why scramble to find a life motto? What exactly do I need
to take guardianship over in order to help me? A proverb can only go so far.
Maybe a
good friend…fair and, yet, invisible friend. I turn to you, and how I would
cry…and your smile would turn to bite. In the spirit of self-healing, since
wisdom and companionship have failed, I turn [appropriately] to myself. But,
the pain and confusion reigns. What am I looking for? A new speed or mode.
Modes are simply that—same in the Persian ‘mod’—a transient thing. Suggesting
the universality of languages. And that I’m really confused.
Some of the
water bottles are halfway empty [I know]. I’ll keep drinking to see if it
helps. If it ultimately solves as the teacher said. I’ll hold on while I can
muster the energy to grip the bottle.