Betty

I met you, and you asked for money. I'm not the sort of citizen to fall for that. I offered lunch, and you showed me your ratty clothes and told me of the cold. I wasn't blind. I could see all of that and more. And I know all of the things I should do. I am practiced at looking out for myself. As you know, no one is going to do it for you.

But you knew what you needed and you knew I had the money to spare, relatively speaking at least. I gave you $7 and asked your name. Betty.

And then you hugged me.

And I don't really know what to do with that. Not because I was offended or even that surprised. Maybe a little surprised.

You didn't merely cut through my defenses. You stole them.

It has been two days, and I still haven't found them. I suppose you've taken them to line your coat and keep you warm. I can tell you right now, they don't keep the wind out.

Maybe I am better off without them.

Actually, I know I am. But it's hard to get used to the lightness that comes with vulnerability. It's hard to remember that I care about all the things I used to, but I haven't done as much caring as I have talking. And even the talking lately has been little, if that is any indication of the other.

I hope to see you again, Betty. I will look for you. And though I expect to find you, I know I never will. I'm still not one to believe that the world works that way. Still, all my love and prayers and thanks.

swimming pool blue

I have a paper due for a class and an apartment to clean, but I do not feel tonight what I think I should. So I am trying to work myself into a pensive mood that might produce something, that might let me know that I am still alive the way a human should be. Or at least what I imagine a healthy human being to be.

I wrote some very profound things the other day on a piece of paper that I cannot seem to find. I do not suspect that I will. All my art seems to fall into a void these days. I think my muse is starving because I broke the cycle. One must create in order to be inspired, or did you not know? I did not. If I had, maybe I would not be here filling this virtual space with more letters, as if we needed more words and more messages.

Truth is out there, but it is buried with each breath and word and picture forward. It is overwhelming. I think that is where I dwell now, overwhelmed. It is an accomplishment if I can shake off most of the lies and overtly propagandized messages that adhere themselves to me by the end of the day. I think this is why depression and cynicism and skepticism have such deep roots in our society. We do not know what to believe.

But maybe we don't have to have all of our beliefs lined up. Maybe we wouldn't give up if we didn't feel that pressure. Maybe life would be worth living if we weren't striving so hard after a goal we will never touch. I keep hoping life is about more than the striving. I think that it is, but I am afraid to call it knowledge. Cheese-filled as it is, life is about the love we pour into this cracked and wavering planet. And you cannot love with a goal or it becomes a very selfish kind of love. We do not need any more of that.

deepest green

We all smile and pretend to know of something that has lasted forever. I do not know why because it makes us all liars and we know it. But we want to believe so very badly,

so we do.

Against the rules, against logic, against experience, against every guiding agent we have ever known, we believe. It is more foolish than a mere fool's hope

and we know that too.

But we have resigned ourselves to this because we do not want to live in a world without some sort of enduring reality. And we suspect, that we alone have nothing that will last. We cannot stand being alone. Not one, but two jealous eyes, fall upon everything and everyone who might have it better than us. We feel returned jealousy and become terrified that they will find out everything we have has been lost.

This is the fear that is becoming us.

It leaves so little room for anything else. We are equals who sell our equality for insecurity.

But our world is not big enough, or did you not hear? There is so much out there that does not make sense, and it does not speak a word about our value. It is beautiful and not. It is a lot of things, especially more than any of us.