Core drama

‘For you will still be here tomorrow, but your dreams may not.’ (Yusuf Islam)

How can I try to explain? (ibid.)

I’m not like you. I’ve looked into it. There’s research available on this stuff. The few of you who are, you’ve got therapists helping you get better.

I’m raising a kid now and it’s like being shouted at by myself. I’ve figured it out, though. He just wants me to be fearless, kind, and curious. He wants me to experiment with myself. He wants me to explore. Is he nuts?

Beautiful nuts. I look at him and just pant for life.

How can that kid who was me have turned into this guy’s dad?

If he only knew. I am so with him. I am so with him. I am so with him he’s under house arrest and I’ve got him a therapist to help him get better.

I’ve figured it out, though. Our kids are flush and healthy and bored with their infernal contentment. They’re drawn to sorrow, and alienation, and pain – because it feels like something’s happening. They get into it, too. The real thing: ‘I just want you to hurt like I do.’ (R. Newman)

Not me. Please God, do not let any other person hurt like I do.

So I bow my head and I endure and I look for happiness in the little places I can find it. I tell my boy to keep his pants on and his nose clean, so he can enjoy what I’ve got someday.

So he yells at me.

If that kid only knew. I want to rip off my shirt and scream at the moon. I want to live on the street. I want to die drunk.

Isn’t anybody out here crazy besides me?

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