It’s funny how the outward appearances stay the same. You get up, brush your teeth, walk to the train or your car, you go to work. You get your coffee, you yawn as you turn on your computer, you twiddle your thumbs as it boots up. You open a document left from the day before, or you flip onto the Web for a few quick site visits. You go through your morning, same as it ever was.
And you may ask yourself: how did I get here? Because you know something they don’t. Because while you look the same, you’re not the same. You enjoy the charade, because half of the fun is in keeping it all a secret. You hate the charade, because most of the pain comes from keeping it inside. You’re not a terribly good actor, and you’re not always good at keeping secrets.
But you go through lunch, letting the day go by. You cruise through the early afternoon, almost convincing yourself that the exterior man is indeed the inward one. But it’s too hard to ignore the change: a consistent reconfiguration on a molecular level. Synapses firing, blood pulsing, head swimming. On the surface, though, an aura of calm. Or, at least, a façade that conceals the anarchy under the skin.
You know, though, and you’re glad for the change. In the end, it doesn’t matter so much that everyone knows of the change; only one person needs to know: the architect of your alteration. The two of you can share that little secret.
In the meantime, you go through your day and no one’s the wiser. You alone endure the storm in your soul, and the struggle is the sweetest one you'll ever have.
Posted by Ryan McGee at November 07, 2003 09:18 AM