Sunday, March 28, 2010

Unfinished - potentially forever.

There’s always a tipping point. In the bright, familiar light of day you don’t always see it – but then, looking back amongst the wreckage of a situation you think, ‘ah yes, that’s where it all went wrong.’ That’s never been my problem. My problem is that I see the road dead-ending up ahead, and then careen recklessly towards it hoping for the worst. I crave disaster and anarchy in my life. My life is like a wound in my mouth, one that would heal if you stopped tonguing it – only I cant. In retrospect I suppose the moment where it all started to get a little out of hand was the night we drove out to the cliffs. It was dark, grey and inky and the night was cold enough that we should have been wearing jackets. Our windows were rolled down and we suckled frantically at cigarettes to keep our lungs warm if nothing else, and conversation turned bleak. He brought up the apocalypse and I tried to turn the conversation to anarchic collectives. Most of what we talked about isn’t important; most of it isn’t something I remember. But in a quiet, timid voice he mentioned something that shuddered me. And like Pandora’s box it all came tumbling out. The thing about making someone your confidante is that you put their life in your hands. He shouldn’t have chosen me, my hands were shaky at best, and it was only a matter of time until something would drop.

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