The thing is I never knew what hit me until it did. And I recognized it in an instant - in the mirror. A girl who was no longer a girl but a lady in fact. No, the girl may not have even been there in the first place. That's right. Perhaps in truth, there was never a girl. But an entirely different entity just as there is now, dwelling deep inside the dark pools staring back at me in the mirror: An Observer. Yes. An Observer. That was what this being was - behind the curtain of kitchen scents and familial warmth and blue burning love and barbeque laughter... And yet this Observer was present and not present. This Observer melts away, back and away into a puddle of stars swirling like frapuccino creme in the universal abyss whenever that spark, that flame of Passion Burns. Her writing, oh yes, her writing, her changing expressions so naked and stark on her face, her tongue sliding through a man's mouth and cutting into his intenstines trying to feel its way upwards into his soul. These men who were not men on the outside but men on the inside. These boys who were not boys on the outside but boys on the inside. Deep, deep down inside the mass riots of stagemanship protesting in the descending rings of their esophagus, or their hearts, or their penises. The Observer flies back home though. Every night. Right on time. Just as the clock strikes 13 on the Moon and She smiles. She has been waiting all day. And only when 13 o'clock comes does the ghosts of memories dance back down into the moonlit passages that curve and split, spirals into your waking reality, greeting you with fresh sighs. For it is not enough for memories to be ghosts themselves, but they need to have ghosts of themselves to remind even themselves that they exist. Not only in slanting moments but in the concrete haphazardness of All Encompassing Time. Right now though This Observer observes: a young girl wanting to find her home as well as reclaim it. Her family, her eyes tell me, have been scattered across the Universe and this girl has condemned herself to either
A) setting out into the vast world alone, not unfeeble but not unafraid either, to put up her white Chinese junk sails and carve out her own path, the trace of her scent mixing with the too often sour and eternally innocent scent of the wind until she finds a place which is totally isolated from all the lives she has lived and all the worlds to which she has travelled and drives a wooden stake that glitters like Gold into the earth and acknowledges that this land is her own, and what's more, that She Belongs to This Land.
Or
B) slitting her wrists so that she may draw the blood which she needs to drop into a sidewalk puddle which in turn sets its wide mouth agape for her to jump in and fall through until she finds herself swimming in the shallow waters of the Milky Way doing a backstroke and a breaststroke until she finally climbs out and uses the stars as stepping stones to reach Paradise where no doubt her entire Childhood, her Home, not lingering montages but all of her actual family waiting for her arrival - they, along with her, breathless to take part in the Grandest Reunion to ever take place. Because this girl, she knows that it is all Worth It.
The Observer notes everything down, even though she's clocked out for the evening...Like how this girl, she watches what happens outside the window of the car. How she sings songs in her head but feels them drowning out her heart. How she notes the exact moment hovering within a nanosecond when the realization that a person, a friend, maybe someone she may even share the same blood with, has two faces. Notes how this girl swallows her anger by the spoonfool. The expression on the girl's face when she knows that Time Flies so quickly...even when she's not having fun. The Observer notes how it has been aeons since this heart inside the soul inside the woman inside the girl has fallen truly in love. Notes how this girl who's become a woman has Saved herself, though this fact leaves her in constant repression and frustration, admiration and awe.
Notes most especially, her Prayers tonight:
Dear God. I believe in You. I need to confess (INSERT LIFE HERE). I need You and I cannot do this by myself. I am not worthy of all this Love but I am taking it. Just as I hope that You are taking Me, although You know my weaknesses and the times I am at fault. I have deceived myself and continue to do so: I tell myself that I am not angry. That I will let it pass because I know in the end it will not matter and only the love will. But how can the love survive the end if Truth does not guide it? Therefore I humbly ask Thee, Lord, to please give me Honesty. If not with the Rest of the World, then with myself. Do this Lord, and I will do the rest. I ask Thee, too, Lord, for Forgiveness. For giving into temptation and doubt which darkness has placed in the balcony of my bones. I only want to Praise You, even if sometimes I end up praising myself. I hope You, of All Beings and Energies, know that I have a good heart. That I want to make You happy. That I find a simple and elegant beauty in the lines that thread through the sequences and events of my life which you have so clearly designed. I know not, Lord God, the roads you have paved for me or the tragedies and illuminated kingdoms you plan for me to take in, but I pray that You will not leave me alone to cry, alone to laugh, alone to break and alone to fly. For I know that You love me, Lord. That You have died on the Holy Cross to open to me the door of my Salvation. Which is Eternal. Which is All Encompassing. Which is You. Good night and wake up with me tomorrow morning, won't you? As I am a 21 year old grown up still afraid of the silence of the dark, I ask Thee to please not turn off the moon tonight.
In the name of Jesus Christ...
Amen.
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