There’s this guy.
And, no, it’s not that kind of story, but it’s a story and it wants to be told.
So there’s this guy.
And he’s a little weird, but maybe that’s just because to me he doesn’t make sense and maybe I’m the weird one. But if I had to describe him, it would be:
Ephemeral, yet constant.
And how can that be, you might ask, for aren’t those opposites? How can someone be both fleeting yet continuous, ever changing yet the same?
The only words I’ve ever said to this guy were…
The only words he’s ever said to me are “Do you see it?”
And perhaps I answered, but most likely I didn’t–too bewildered and caught off guard to respond properly. But that’s the closest thing to a conversation we’ve ever had, and I find it hilarious and sad.
Because in the book that would be my life? He is always there. He flits in and out of my family and friends’ lives, a name repeated so often that it gains a life of its own. A character mentioned in every chapter, but never for more than a few sentences.
Collecting anecdotes of this guy I’ve never really talked to. Knowing details of his life that I don’t really care for. Like being roommates with a stranger you never see or hear, but can infer the existence of through dirty dishes and moved furniture.
Tangential lines whose single point of contact wasn’t even all that meaningful.
“Do you see it?”
Do I see it? See what? What does it matter?
We are looking in different directions, looking for different signs, only aware of each other the same way passers by in a crowd are–another body, a step to the side, an almost dance with an almost partner to an almost song that no one can hear.
There’s this guy.
He’s weird, a familiar stranger, the same configuration of letters reappearing on different pages.
But that’s just how life works.
A/N: a day late, but maybe i’ll write another thing today to count as 07-17′s post properly