End.
The cars are rushing at me, but I can't move.
"I love someone!" I shouted.
A woman looked up, startled, as her husband swerved around me.
My hair is wild; my hands have been through it so many times they are greasy.
I can feel my heart in my chest, the leaden thump, the sick sideways lurch that pretends to be a heartbeat.
"I love someone!"
I can hear it echoing off the stone and glass of the office blocks and Georgian tenements of Queen Street.
A light flickers on across the street and a girl in just a bra pokes her head through her curtains to glare at me.
"I love someone!"
It's so loud my head rushes like the Raukawa Falls and reminds me of the last time I felt this pain.
The steed of this Valley is Pain...
My knees are on the pavement now, chewed gum and cigarette butts and chip wrappers from Festival revellers.
My eyes are deserts. They have nothing left to cry.
The girl in the window hears me, she looks sad, then down, then away, biting her lip, the curtain closing.
A lover is he who is chill in hell fire. A knower is he who is dry in the sea.
"I love someone!"
I'm looking at the stars now. There are millions of them, the scattered ashes of my cremated heart. I try to clutch at them; I want to cling to life.
"Please..." I whisper. "Please..."
"I love someone." It's barely a whisper now, and I know I have to go to bed, the bed, our bed, my bed, my half-bed, love's coffin, the quilt a shroud, tear-made salt stain rings. I have to wash this before I give it back. I think.
Cake is playing in my head. "She'll come back to me. She'll come back to me. All day, I wait and wait to hear her footsteps on my walkway. She never came. She never even called."
I'm so full of love I'm choking on it, swollen with it, ready to burst with it.
"Please..." Comes out again. I don't know what I'm even pleading. Who knew?
I'm inside now. I don't know how I managed the key. The trash needs to go out. It's Thursday. It's stacked at the bottom of the steps. I'm carrying the bags outside. My upstairs neighbor's bags are heavy.
Quiet, quiet; my sister is sleeping, her husband beside her, in the spare room.
"I love someone." I whisper to the dark living room, but the sofa knows, the chair knows, the floor knows. The fireplace knows, nodding in somber sympathy.
Comments
I want to respond to this without trivializing your emotion. Intention stated.
Thank you for sharing this. It's beautiful.
Posted by: Kristen | August 17, 2006 5:51 AM
Thank you, Kristen.
Posted by: Nathan | August 17, 2006 2:38 PM
Sweetheart,
My heart breaks with yours. I check your blog on a regular basis, hoping against hope that you will be there, that I can get a glimpse into your life, that you will share with me. I love someone, too. You.
I think back to when you were 4 and we were over at Debbie and Richard's. The girls had teased you or hurt your feelings and you came to me. I asked you what was wrong, you told me and then said, "I feel like a flower -- that has been picked." You were so sad, and my heart broke for you then, too.
Posted by: Ma | August 17, 2006 3:06 PM
Oh, Maman. Don't you worry. I'm okay.
I'm just sad sometimes.
I love you, Maman.
Posted by: Nathan | August 17, 2006 4:57 PM
I don't worry; I know you are a big boy and can handle it. But I don't want you to be sad. No, I want you to be happy. I love you, too. And I feel your pain.
Posted by: Ma | August 17, 2006 6:08 PM
Why does the sun go on shiniing? Why does the sea rush to shore?
Dn't they know - it's the end of the world- Cause you don't love me anymore?
Why do the birds go on singing? Why do the stars glow above? Don't they know - it 's the end of the world?
It ended when I lost your love.
I wake up in the morning and I wonder
hy everythings the same as it was.
I can't understand, no I can't understand how life goes on the way it does.
Why does my heart go on beating, why do these eyes of mine cry? Don't they know it's the end of the world? It ended when you said goodbye.
Posted by: R. T. Bean | August 18, 2006 4:10 AM
Life is pain, highness. Anyone who says otherwise is selling something.
I'm too numb to be original. The gut wrenching emotion is familiar and time is my arch nemesis. So too, is the poison surrounding me- choking me, stripping me of sanity. I am paralyzed.
Posted by: R. T. Bean | August 18, 2006 4:20 AM
Ah Rae, ah, Rae. Yes, it's true.
I'm feeling pretty low at the moment. It's 0457. I couldn't even tell you why I'm up.
Posted by: Nathan Dornbrook | August 18, 2006 4:58 AM
The sinew of love is the grist of life and likeness. The affableness of love is continuous to a gladsomeness while the anguishment of love is also constant. Side by side they tumble into our lives and we always seem to suffer the sinews of love daily. I call it life. Some think of it as pain. Some know both too well.
Lately, I find it easier to tell you that, with all my heart, and powers of life, that I love you. I hope that , in some measure, it may ease your entwining sinews of love.
Posted by: papa | August 18, 2006 5:22 AM
Hey, Papa!
Thank you. It does help. This morning wasn't so bad, and seeing your comment made me feel better.
I love you, too, Papa!
Posted by: Nathan Dornbrook | August 18, 2006 9:40 AM
Hey Nathan
why not come out to New zealand for 6 months and help me lick a border management infrastructure into shape? 2 Summers in a row can't be bad for a broken heart.
Russell
Posted by: Russell | September 21, 2006 3:45 AM
I hope things are better for you now Nathan.
If its any comfort I found these words a while back and they make a lot of sense to me.
----
For me unhappiness comes from either dwelling too much on the past or dreaming too much about the future. It is only when I focus on the present that I feel truly content.
I believe it all comes down to having unfulfilled wants. You see for me, dwelling on the past is a want, because I yearn to re-live memories that cannot be re-lived, and to dream is a want, because my imagination runs wild, painting a very idealised and romantic picture that can never really be achieved to such perfection. The knowing that these thoughts are either rooted in the past or future, and are therefore either not possible to live at all, or only very far in the future (though, isnt it funny how "the future" keeps moving forward?), is ultimately what makes me unhappy.
Its only when I pull myself out of a state of being in the past or in the future and count my blessings of the present that I feel happy, because I have no wants or desires, I'm simply living the moment.
---
Posted by: Ewan | November 2, 2006 7:49 AM
Nathan, you &*$%# pansey. I hope you read your own blog fairly often, because this is pretty much the only mechanism I have for getting in contact with you. Drop me a line, before I start posting embarrassing stories about you for your family.
Posted by: Joshua Kaminoff | November 7, 2006 7:38 PM