Thursday, January 18, 2018

Outside Visiting Hours

Those late night demons,
Those 4am demons
Those 4am demon voices
That wake you,
And keep you awake
With their all-knowing Truth,
With their relentless
Telling you
And telling you
And telling you
And judging you...

Those late night, 4am demons,
They are manageable
During visiting hours.
But when you start to notice them,
And hear them,
And listen to them
During your wide-awake hours,
After your visiting hours.

And they keep telling you
And telling you
And telling you things
And judging you
In a voice louder than
The voices in the visiting hours...

When this happens,
There is no escape.

Friday, January 05, 2018

Specks In This Cosmic Storm Of Chance

This is us, New Year's Day 2018. The Dreaded One and me, we made it through a struggle of a year. I don't really know how I made it. The urge for non-existence was strong early in the year. That urge never really leaves. It has always been part of me. It gets close, and it fades away.

But the survivor in me has never given into that urge. Partly because I know moments like this are possible in the future. Grumpy and The Dreaded One, they seem to be making each other happy again. When we're good, we totally fucking rock. After all this time, we still make each other laugh, and we still hold hands.  Humans and that freakish chance encounter thing... The Dreaded One was born three days after me in San Francisco. I was born three days before her in Sydney. What are the chances of us bumping into each other years later? What are the chances of us liking each other enough to eventually love each other for all these years? We're all just specks in a cosmic storm of chance.

And Marciano on my right in this picture is a perfect demonstration. She wrote the perfect job application for the position of working with me in the cafe. Perfect because it spoke to me. As with a previous co-worker, April, I kind of knew from those words on the page that something was there. Some beautiful connection. I was right both times. Both have become treasured friends.

Today was Marciano's last day. I have enjoyed every minute of her company.  We share a gentle, quirky sense of humour. We have made each other happy. We have hugged a couple of times a day, but today's last hug was a long and tight one, and I don't mind telling you that when she said into my shoulder, "Lee... my big brother"... well I might have teared up a bit.

What are the chances? What are the chances that a person born in Uruguay 25 years before a person born in Sydney will bump into each other in Melbourne one day and share such a silly sense of humour and become such close friends? What are the chances, in this cosmic storm of chance?