8:29 a.m. - 2005-08-31
Conclusion of a Season in Hell
Larry instinctively knew how to beckon every bound spirit huddling within me. Every unspoken poem, overlooked by devoted parents preoccupied with survival. Every song unsung for fear of drawing attention. Every step untaken by the cautious girl with the shy fringe of bangs. He seemed to recognize the wounds I carefully concealed and so I mistook him for friend. He seemed to acknowledge the loneliness of this cherished only child and so I named him father. He seemed to purr me into existence and so I mistook him for God. For a time, he was my element. I moved within him as within my own skin. His demands were few. I was given the passive role of mirror. Magnifying glass, inflaming his glory through the sunshine of my adoration. I was a thing. Worshipped for my function, that of worshipper. A symbiotic mangling of egos, frayed by life. A coming together of damaged goods, pain expanding directionless. Collision course of hearts, respectively broken. Larry was not a villain, although he behaved the villain. Larry was a lethal stray, cornered in the shadows of his own demise. I was the hostage taken for company, which misery is known to love. The unfortified city, easily consumed. Tenderly, he would hold his doll of bisque, only to fling me in a twitch of self loathing against a wall of unspeakable despair. The next moment, I was sorting through the brittle pieces of my fragile persona, felled by the god I had fashioned in my own image. Original sin. And the baffled cherubim, confused at the abrupt change of plan, intermittently allowed entry into this dubious paradise for some seven years. And the peril was full circle. The devastation complete. The deus ex machina terrible and fierce. We wrestled with God in all His distressing disguises, limping finally to separate corners.
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