“They would come suddenly in a wave of supernatural lucidity, like an absolute and momentaneous conviction, but they could not be grasped.” a quote by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, is how i feel about my thoughts and intuition, the ones i once used to often visit. Now, i just lay or sit in my belittlement of my bedroom at night waiting to hear what i cannot. With headphones that play no music i expect some form of voice to mold the chunk of clay left in my mind. . . in my soul, and i believe of no such thing. I am a rationalist. I have a defensive mechanism to defend my “what i think is right,” or what i know cannot be true. Rationalist pessimist is how i feel actually. Enough about what i feel (here i go again), here is what i know. I cannot explain the vague feeling of missing a person i cannot put a name on… i just know something is wrong. And just as i lay here and thought, i was right. I was actually right. In an almost state of mourning, i have verified that intuitive annoyance ringing in my consciousness to be right about the sad and empty feeling i swallowed with no worry. The someone i had texted just a few days ago lays in a hospital, probably alone and confused asking life why it is that tempests of emotions can swallow you whole without compassion of forecast of why. I have never felt so guilty to be right. Righteousness is not mine. I feel remorse for not have known an inevitable occurrence. . . sounds spoiled, to think this way. It smells spoiled too, it is like when you drive by a construction site drilling a hole in the ground for the sake of a new parkway exit. . . you know in the back of your mind what is going on but you are only reminded by that awful smell that no windows could shut out. That smell you know goes away but will come back because there is only that one road that can get you to work in the morning. This intuition that something might have happened to someone, this one feeling of loss and emptiness i felt stunk like no bottomless pit in the ground. The scent was numbed by my ignorant consciousness of my daily worthless routine of a life. . . a routine i now want to bury in that hole and forget about but that i have to drive by the next morning because no matter how many weekends pass there is always a Monday.
I wake up at some time O’clock and i sleepwalk to the bathroom or the fridge; whichever i avoided most the day before… Always wearing socks afraid to touch the cold floor, worried my dry feet will get dirty for i know another pair of socks are to be wasted, and i remember that i feel something. It isnt hunger, it isnt illusion, i wouldn’t know what it is for i have lived lifetimes ignoring it. I have always lived the moving seconds beyond this moment confused what is it that is to come that has not already. I felt a motionless time i guess. As it hit me, “check this persons Facebook and look, since you can’t listen to yourself so as you always must, Look.” I saw the bottom of my stomach drop into a “what i think is right. . .was.” There it was, the confession of “i guess i will be sleeping in the hospital overnight” (a status written almost a week ago when my supernatural feelings began).
It has never pained me so much to be right. I swear the agony of now not knowing what happened next and not having the stomach to face the hospitals doorsteps to find out overwhelms me. This cowardice of regret for ignoring my annoying intuition torments me now, like a crying baby you cannot touch, you just wouldn’t know if it is that you had to burp it, feed it, change its diapers, sleep it., rock it. I am not sure what is next, i just changed my socks and i don’t know what routine a day of knowledge brings. Beyond this moment, i wouldn’t know whats next. I am afraid to guess and be right.