Hello old friend,
You once gave me this puzzle on a napkin, product of a night's steady drinking and pseudo-intellectual conversation:
Rust : dust : : what must become : us?
I've spent so long puzzling its meaning. Were you trying to tell me that we were doomed from the start? To take joy in the inevitable decay? I've tried my hand at living by your words, but all I've grabbed hold of has slipped through the sieve of my fingers. Was that the rusty dust you were talking about? Did you mean to describe how pointless it all was in the end? Or were you simply saying that the red dust of your hometown clung to you, and would be your eventual undoing?
Can ordinary people even have tragic flaws, like the Greek heroes of old? I know I am certainly flawed, but I'm told it's charming. Quirky, idiosyncratic, and endearing. People can't get enough of me. Will my flaws lead to my eventual demise? Is that what happened to you?
Who could have foreseen what happened to you? Certainly not her. "Wait for me, don't drink anything more until I get there" she told you. "Don't do anything stupid." Oops, too late for that. You wanted to go home early, after drinking half the liquor in the bar. Quite a marathon that night was for you, wasn't it? Did it dull the pain? Did you feel better, or did you just feel less bad? I've heard that alcohol poisoning is a very painful way to go. Did the pain make you feel more alive or some emo shit like that? Did you just want it all to end?
I'm through with pondering the meanings behind your garbled mumblings. If you'd ever had anything to say, you've lost your chance. And you've robbed me of mine. You always were so selfishly selfless. Always giving to others, never allowing others to give anything back. Is it any wonder that you had nothing left to give yourself?
You once gave me this puzzle on a napkin, product of a night's steady drinking and pseudo-intellectual conversation:
Rust : dust : : what must become : us?
I've spent so long puzzling its meaning. Were you trying to tell me that we were doomed from the start? To take joy in the inevitable decay? I've tried my hand at living by your words, but all I've grabbed hold of has slipped through the sieve of my fingers. Was that the rusty dust you were talking about? Did you mean to describe how pointless it all was in the end? Or were you simply saying that the red dust of your hometown clung to you, and would be your eventual undoing?
Can ordinary people even have tragic flaws, like the Greek heroes of old? I know I am certainly flawed, but I'm told it's charming. Quirky, idiosyncratic, and endearing. People can't get enough of me. Will my flaws lead to my eventual demise? Is that what happened to you?
Who could have foreseen what happened to you? Certainly not her. "Wait for me, don't drink anything more until I get there" she told you. "Don't do anything stupid." Oops, too late for that. You wanted to go home early, after drinking half the liquor in the bar. Quite a marathon that night was for you, wasn't it? Did it dull the pain? Did you feel better, or did you just feel less bad? I've heard that alcohol poisoning is a very painful way to go. Did the pain make you feel more alive or some emo shit like that? Did you just want it all to end?
I'm through with pondering the meanings behind your garbled mumblings. If you'd ever had anything to say, you've lost your chance. And you've robbed me of mine. You always were so selfishly selfless. Always giving to others, never allowing others to give anything back. Is it any wonder that you had nothing left to give yourself?
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