I Don't Want To Go

There are better ways to help me quit smoking than to steal my lighter. I'm resourceful and know how to work the toaster. You know who you are.

I stood in the centre of the room, and devoid of furniture it looked bigger than it is. My shirt was soaked through with sweat and I wondered at my decision to re-arrange the room today. This is how I measure the passage of time and divide my life into segments; easy to digest and remember. "That was around the time the television was underneath the window." Otherwise the senses that help me measure the passing days would stall, stuttering to a standstill, blending the summer into one long afternoon. Re-arranging the furniture allows for the perception of change and I'm not above tricking myself into believing it.

The level at which my self perception resides is deep and resists change, but like so many have told me, change is inevitable. I've been resisting it. I've been trying to tell myself that change is good, but I can't help but think that I'm leaving her behind.

Black and white. Things are always black and white for me. You're either good or bad, happy or sad, healthy or crippled by the senseless meanderings of events that rise up and alter you for ever, manipulating and bludgeoning you with truths too hard to face.

It's time I learned that nothing is absolute. I'll aim for the middle ground. Blend the old with the new and cross my fingers so that nothing can hurt me. I'm going to help things along and move the couch under the window and line the wall with books. It's a small change but maybe it will alter my outlook, create a new vista and motivate me a little. Change may be inevitable and I know it can be resisted but I'm getting tired of the struggle. Sometimes I hold on too hard, too long.