He – the other me

July 16, 2018

I am looking at him….its the preamble between darkness and dawn….he seems trained on the unfurling sky. I wonder might he be trying to catch a glimpse of hope there, but I know that’s not how my other half sees the world. All he can ever see is the indifference of the capricious clouds drifting out to sea. They have nothing to say to him except bye bye. Clouds have always been to much like cats to him. He doesn’t like either their independent or taciturn manner. That reminds me. I probably shouldn’t be obsessing about clouds either. After all there is suddenly two of me now. He’s there and I am here….just standing silently and watching it slowly turn from indigo to bronze. The morning that is.

What I should really be looking at is deep inside me. What I should really be asking is why does HE seem to only come out when I cant seem to handle things or when gets too thick. Its never a pretty sight when I try to beacon out the murk by searching for answers to these questions….its paradoxically like staring at him right now. Can I see myself there? No, all I see is an expression of an inplacable, stubborn, self-centered and narcisstic soul whose probably the way he is in the way anything that is made out of rubber starts to go wonky especially running shoes especially when you dont use them regularly -the underside just peels right off and fuck it, it only really happens two thirds into a run. So there you have it the executive summary of how a man manages by creating another of himself to cope with shit, when troubles occur, he pops right out.

I’ve carried him around like one of those old suitcases filled with stuff that one should really chuck away, but cant seem to…only because despite his brashness, inhumanity and cruelty, it actually has sentimental utility…to me.

I like certain aspects of him. Correction. I admire. Well certain aspects of his character. like how he can look unflinchingly at the sum of the fears that would make most men cringe and run only to say, this is as good as any other day to die!

But make no mistakes. I dont carry him around with me because of fun sake. He is just too bothersome and weighty. I’ve carried him me because there was no else to turn too when I have to face off with really rough people.

There he stands silently in the steady approach of the morn. There is no fear in his eyes. They seem almost to accept the world for what it is rather than what it should be. I wouldnt exactly term it apathy or for that matter coming to terms with. Rather it was a curious sort of solidarity between the mind, spirit and soul that ironically only felt by the condemmed. The man whose lost in his thoughts pulling on the last cigarette of his life just before being lined before a firing squad. The captain of a stricken ship that has decided to go down with her. There has always been something quietly forlorn about him…something akin to a lingering sadness resembling the finality of the very definition of solitariness itself….yet on that icy cold speckled moon like surface. He radiated warmth as the sun began to rise above the distant mountains, it wasnt the ‘he is a jolly good fellow’ warmth. No..it was the warmth of fresh blood.

I hate to say this….but I am glad the cocoa farmer from Gabundi estate has returned.

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