Old Excerpts, Circa 2003: Wales to Life

From a bit of memoir writing I did following my time living in Wales, following my time mediating my parent’s relentlessly burdensome and failing marriage, following my time in a deep, dark depression (*alas, I’ve moved on from this place; and yet I will say this: writing is the most wondrous catharsis; and that patience is most certainly a virtue).

I had to be patient then. I was a patient person before all of this. Now, this present day, I could quite easily be the most patient person on the planet. I had patience in lonesomeness. Patience in acquaintances I can’t call friends.

How could I create friendships in that state of mind? I was to leave Wales in six months anyways, what then? Oh, here, why don’t you get to know me now, know this fake me, this dying me, this deteriorating me, then we can part ways, and you can think, wow that guy was fucked up, never again will I allow myself to befriend a kid like that, so fucked up he was.

Patience in misunderstandings. Patience in refusals to understand. Patience in misinterpretations. Patience in a brain that had put up a No Vacancy sign for information, making me feel as though I had the brain capacity of a ten-year old with down’s syndrome. Patience in unaccustomed layers of clothing, acting as my very own bullet proof skin against the cold, making me feel like SWAT, with their body-suit armor Kevlar. Patience in a sky that won’t allow a drop of sunshine. Patience in the same sky that seems to have fallen in love with rain, fog and grayish hues. Patience in pessimism, the tone my mind wished to inhabit.

Patience in muscles that won’t move me far enough, in legs and arms that have grown tired and in lungs seemingly shrunken into tiny dime bags of fading oxygen. Patience in backache, the brittle, spindly spine of mine wearing thin, feeling as though if I were to get on my hands and feet, back parallel to the floor, I would resemble a rare breed of Stegosaurus. Patience with the pain I had encountered attempting to sleep: every angle I had chosen to lay, sideways, on the right, on the left, on my back, on my stomach, hands up top, hands at my sides, single pillow, double pillows, single blanket, one sheet, two sheets, two blankets; no matter what I did, there was pain. In my bones, my joints, my chest, my legs, my feet.

I had to be patient. I had to be.

Emerald Greens Below Ever Present Clouds of Gray

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