The cops are here// Zugunruhe
There are things I want to type but I’m fighting with myself. Can you believe that? I type it out and I blink and I’m holding the backspace key.
I’ve spoken of it here before, but there’s more to the story. When I told my parents I was dropping out of high school, they called the police. My dad said “YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME!!!” angrily. I’ve only really thought about, focused on “what if the wrong cops came to the house and shot me dead?! how would you have felt then!?”
Interestingly, by the time the cops had arrived, I had suddenly and spontaneously cleaned my room. Spotless. Classical music playing softly as background noise. I spoke to them courteously, I made them laugh, I made their brows furrow with pity. Vivaldi’s nulla in mundo pax sincera.
There’s a thing to be said about playing masterfully. Whatever the instrument may be.
The cops went back downstairs and I followed them, they said to my parents “look he seems like a really bright kid, he has good reasons, I mean his room is spotless, you should see my kid’s room!”
I don’t remember cleaning my room. I do remember however, as soon as the door closed behind them, I whipped around and said something to my parents. I don’t remember what, but I remember that I was wearing a different face, it felt quite rubbery. My eyebrows creased in cartoon villain fashion, I could really feel my throat all of a sudden. I spat out some words, vitriolic, my mother ran out of the house, trying to wave down the cops. I imagine, or at least my mind translates her actions as sort of a “look! come and see! he’s much different than the kid you just praised so highly! this is who he really is!”
They were gone already somehow, poor mom.
I think I told my dad that he and I were done. He’d been making effort still I suppose, to make up for the years he wasn’t around, unsuccessfully of course. I didn’t realize how correct I was. We used to keep aquariums together, he’d take me to yard sales every weekend. After that, the most he’d say to me every 48 hours was some variation of “hi, how are you” but not really asking earnestly, just as a sort of ritual. Of course I’d always respond “fine”. Wasn’t really giving him much to work with. It was entirely useless to try to talk to them though, every time I tried it would turn into “pray about it” or somehow be flipped into a punishment. Anger wells up within me as I recall this all now.
There’s this actress I’ve been infatuated with for the better part of a year now, Ali Larter. I first saw her when we watched Legally Blonde on stream, and as I often do, I went on and on about her teeth, and how much I love teeth like that. I haven’t thought about her much since, or at all in fact until I started watching this TV show she’s in. I always wanted to watch the show when it was on TV but never seemed to be able to catch it, but now, I can binge it. It was a surprise to see her in the show, and a double surprise to see her once again in a bright orange prison jump suit, which I suppose isn’t so crazy of a role for an actor to play, but it’s weird that its happened twice consecutively for me right? So I’m watching Mrs. Larter play a character that reminds me too much of myself, and I’m thinking, and I’m thinking, and “OH! SHE LOOKS EXACTLY LIKE [redacted]
One of my exes, of course. So I sit and I do some more thinking, and I wonder, do I like her because she looks like my ex, or do I just happen to like people with these sorts of features? This jaw, and these teeth in particular? Yknow what? Queen Aslaug had this same sort of thing going on too didn’t she? and I was also infatuated with her, but I had also already dated this girl, so which is which?
And then I begin to think of the relationship, and the way it ended, and started again, and ended. And how she plead to give her another chance and how I was cruel about it without meaning to be, and how it was my turn to miss her, and we’d go back and forth yknow?
And the more I think about it, the more I reflect on the relationship, the more I think about this problem I have. Where I can’t quite seem to be consistent, can’t be one way, how some days I’m the perfect, pious, husband in love and another day I’m stepping out, coldly. No such thing as remorse.
Can you imagine? “Yes I did the bad thing, but I would never do that! You know that’s not me I’m not capable of that! and I dont remember doing that, but I believe that it happened and-”
I think its happened that, every one I’ve been with has said something like “I actually don’t worry about you doing [x] at all, like I have 0 worry about that whatsoever.” and then I’d have to swallow a feeling. A feeling that I was indeed capable, and perhaps had done so already, but don’t think so, and don’t remember, but somehow, I do know
An innocent criminal that is in fact guilty of the crime they’re accused of. It’s really some sort of a punch line y’know? Imagine me laughing as I’m writing this, because that’s whats going on.
post script.
I haven’t earnestly considered killing myself in a whole month. I’ll celebrate that. At the same time, I’ve been thinking a lot about how I’m flying on one of these planes falling apart in the sky. The two people I’ve mentioned this to show great distress and encourage me to change the flight. I’m excited rather.
Zugunruhe is a borrowed word, from German. “Migration anxiety”. When birds are enclosed, and it comes time for them to migrate, even if they’ve never seen the sky, they know it’s time to go, and they’re hopelessly restless for it. It makes me think of the excerpt from that book: “when god wills for a creature to die somewhere, he deigns that all its desires lead to that place” or something like that, I can’t find the quote.
Every thing I desire is in that place, and I’m going.
