Occassionally I make people uncomfortable
with a presence like a bull in a china shop (knocking into every little inanimate or semianimate object) that sometimes fades like a shadow into social irrelevance. And I'd venture to say I'm no more comforting in shadowy visage then I am in my full shiny bulky glory.
so, I knew what I was doing when I walked into that room. that crowded room with people bustling and laughing and baring their beautiful shoulders, undulating them for affect now and again. everyone unique and interesting and everyday and exactly the same. they all had just the right amount of their own peronality on display. I wish I knew how they did that
and I walked in anyway. found him, in the crowd, typical and extraordinary as the rest, girls around him, all those old flames, ghosts of christmas past
and I explained, with the gentlest voice I could muster, that I was a ghost of a different nature, something there to haunt them all with how their favorite rules secretly made them feel uncomfortable. remind them how they had strapped themselves in with corset boning to these roles I saw before me now. I was there to make it look hard. For me. For them. I was guilt. I was there to ask: why are we all here, in our high high heels and tinkling laughs swaying before him like restless willows when we should be planted in cushy arm chairs, feeding ourselves grapes, laughing in deep resonating burts, saving our energy for a race far more worth winning?