Monday, November 01, 2004

chapter 1, part 1

I never really knew my father. I guess you could say I’ve been blind to many other things in my life. They’re there, but I don’t really see them.

If you ask me his name, I could give you that.

I could describe his face, tell you what he sounds like, imitate his laugh. He has a good sense of humor, my father. When he laughed, everyone would stop what they were doing and turn around to look at him. I was always too embarrassed by the sound.

It’s strange that I’m thinking of him again, after so many years.

Arianna says I have a problem dealing with emotions. She says I don’t like to remember things. Feel things. Think.

It’s already 7: 06 p.m., and at five minutes before midnight, my life is supposed to end.

I think I told my father that, the last time I talked to him. Maybe even Ari. The last time we shared a joint. Maybe.

It would be a weight off my shoulders to finally let go of all this.

Every night, I’ve told myself this for the past 17 years.

I’ve told myself, Self, isn’t it time for you to let others enjoy life? Look at you, the son of _______. The son of _______. People know them. People are starting to talk. They look at you and they wonder what you’ve done to make blank and blank proud of you.

I grab the remote and switch on the flat-panel TV. Wonder briefly who invented plasma. Channel surf. Switch on. Switch off. All 100-plus channels and nothing on.

Tomorrow will be another day.

I’ll just break all the mirrors. I’ll tell Ari I’m coming home.

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