If someone asked me..

If someone asked me how it all happened… I don’t think I would be able to answer them. I mean…  I could rattle something off about champagne, hitchhiking, fairy lights, a boat on the Southport harbour, a funeral, and how the dress that I chose to wear, was free when you purchased a $5.95 magazine.

I could give facts. Dates. I might even be able to make excuses. I’m not sure. The story changes every-time it leaves my tongue.  Mostly because I’m not so sure how it really goes anyway. I wasn’t listening half the time. I was singing ‘somewhere over the rainbow’ on repeat in my head, and dreaming of any life that wasn’t mine.

I did have moments of clarity I think. This one time, I got told to pull my head out of the sand. And I did. Followed shortly by a midnight swim at Bondi Beach in an aqua G string. It was completely sand free I tell you. Nothing but salt water in my ears.

That was a long time ago now. But I remember recognizing my life that night. Which was nice. Then I think I got drunk and went to maccas. But that’s not too bad either I suppose. Nobody’s ever died from chicken nuggets and diet coke.

(Okay fine. There may have been a cheeseburger involved too.)

I remember the possibility of a light existence. I vaguely recall having it right there for the taking. The boy that had always kept me laughing.  The friends that had always kept me grounded. The job that would have opened doors.

Then I remember shutting mine instead. I sat in my four by three metre bedroom with music, google and more often than not some sort of grape infused beverage. I remember silencing my alarms. Saying no to dinners. And eating black jelly beans.

All of that possibility disintegrated. Or gave up. Or decided I wasn’t worth it. Exactly as I had asked it to. All of that kept moving. Because that’s what you do apparently. You don’t just allow things to happen to you. You make decisions. When at a crossroads, you turn left or you turn right. You don’t keep powering straight on through and wind up in a paddock somewhere with sugarcane stuck in your hair.

At least now looking back, it’s not so far so gone that I can’t see the T section. I can still see it. I can sometimes even make a little sense of how I got here. And on a really good day, I can even see which direction I should have turned.

So now, as I start my trek back, I guess I just have to remember to gather a bit of this sugarcane en route. Because god knows, I’m going to have to have something to offer when I finally reach that tire-marked highway.

(Oh did I forget to mention I did a few donuts before I went off the edge completely? What did I tell ya… too much singing in my head.)

XX good night

One Comment Add yours

  1. Geo Moriarty says:

    You’re a poet Matisse! Geo x

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