Sunday, June 26, 2005

last track

Your last song will be a short one. Truncated, and abruptly terminated, it'll give the impression of further length without actually doing any such thing. Like a pyramid with the top cut off, it'll imply further height without going anywhere. The end of your days will be just like that. People will say: "But she was right in the middle of," "She was just about to," "She was planning on," but the words will never come; pruned sentences, their growth stopped forever. Eternal life in the wishful thinking of others, all abandoned plans and jilted loved ones.

Childhood is a million paths leading nowhere and everywhere. Empty days filled to the brim with nothing but a bitter liquid future, it burns the mouths of all who drink of it, but leaves them wanted more. You were that little girl once, all bright eyed and cheery, idealistic and sanguine, stealing sips from the cup with a thirst that would soon turn from sips to slurps, from slurps to swigs, and finally from swigs to simple swilling. You were hooked, made delirious by the intoxicating effects of that vile poison. The future: shit - what a crock. If you had known this is where you were going, you never would have left.

So, you're an adult now. A million paths leading nowhere and everywhere. Rats in a maze. You've heard it before, but it still seems so appropriate. Looking around, it's so easy to imagine that everyone else has found their place. And they have. Madly running from point A to B and back again, they all look the same - they all are the same.

And you? You're still fostering a secret addiction: the future. You can't get enough. You drink it in the form of gallons of coffee and pints of alcohol. You smoke it in cigarettes. It's in that McDonald's sandwich you ate this morning, that candybar this afternoon. You've got a stash of it in your pantry, under your bed, and tucked beneath the cushions of your Ikea couch.

You're growing tired of this album - so tired. You long to skip to the next song - and you would if you could only get off the couch. And where's that remote anyway? A million miles away, down a different path. You hum the tune of that slow, sad song, louder and louder, until you can no longer hear the current track. The last track: so slow, so sad, so sweet. So far away. Music to your ears - too bad it's not longer.

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