The Whole Business of Face-Making

I was in the center of the room, exposed to all analysis and inspection existing only in my head. It was funny, the things I had told myself in trying to prevent the inevitable, the undeniable possibility that this is how the events would play out. It was against everything, this hope. Impractical, ineffectual, vain. But I continued to hold on, adhering to the belief that free will could compete with the life that had already been established, already laid out long ago.

I knew proactive to be a futile word, a hollow attempt of making absolute the reality that would never be. Life was being personified before us, taken to a further dimension of existence where everything was given a spatial tension of color and form. It was through no effort, no fault of our own. Inexplicable at best. I was reactive. I could only watch.

I existed parallel to others’ thoughts, others’ experience. The even charts of salvation and damnation took root in my positioning, and I felt the inertia. My God, My God! I even felt the numbness.

I was in the center of the room, feeling horribly, horribly lost.

Happily, happily alone.

Isabelle EymanComment