5. the well
I know I need to be writing. Not because I started this website and made a promise to myself to update it once a month. Even though no one knows it exists at this point. Even though no one’s ever been so interested in me.
I suppose I will be the only person to read all of my own writing. Will all the things I’ve written ever all be read? And even after you get through the writings I’ve written on here then you have to scrape out every word I’ve written on paper, in my journals, books and dreams. Some of them have already been thrown out.
I’m afraid no one will ever truly know me because no one will ever read all that I’ve written. And even if someone were to come along and read every letter that filled the letter pages they’ll never know all of my thoughts.
Oh didn’t you know, my written words are just a surface scrape of my existence. Then there’s the deep well that even if you were to throw a stone down it, would take at least 60 seconds to hit the bottom and 60 seconds is so far into the ground that when it hits you’re not even sure if it’s your imagination making up the slightest ding to end the wait, or if it was the stone hitting.
And the truth is, I wouldn’t even know the answer to that. Because I’m at the bottom of the well wishing you’d throw a coin and treat me like a fountain. Instead I get thrown stones.
What’s next? The sticks?
And anyway, even if you really did hear the stone hit me on the head, you’d never see the hurt you’ve caused me because sixty seconds of darkness doesn’t cast a light upon me. And so now you know that within me, lies a depth so great stones tire on their way down but you don’t really know who I am.
You’ve never really seen me. You know I’m at the bottom but you don’t know what I like. And how could you? Only a bottom dweller would understand the comings and goings of a bottom dweller. You and I are not entertained by the same things. You have sports balls and sun baths, I’ve got me and the other bottom dwellers.
The games I play to pass the time are played against the wall. And even when you win the reward is never the light. The moment can get lighter. Maybe. The thought can get lighter. Maybe. Life can get lighter. Maybe. Or maybe not.
I grow to see light in the dark. Instead of constantly consuming more dark, I begin to release it into the light. I release and I realize. Releases and realizes, are two words of the same stone in the lands native tongue. Just like sticks and stones became the first game with the wall.
We do a disservice to history when we explain it in modern languages. We miss details of the pieces. And peace is lost in the missing. Details.
I am lost in the blank space of matter. All I see and feel doesn’t matter. All I know and want is the light. 59 more seconds to fall before you meet me at the bottom.