Legacy
I have always been able to smell disaster on the goddamn wind. I know what’s coming down the pike before it happens. It’s not magic. It’s not a sixth sense. It’s just an ability to put the facts together quickly and see the logical outcome before anyone else around me does. And 9 times out of 10 I’m right.
As I’ve matured and allowed myself to be open to growth, this ability has become stronger. Foolish people have called me wise. Unwise people have sought me out for help. But what they never realize is that I don’t have any more answers than the next person. And the ability to see impending doom is what makes me avoid human contact as much as possible.
I love life. I love people. But it’s something akin to watching those around you crumple and wither like so many burning leaves. It hurts. Especially when they don’t see the fire until it’s too late.
I am long past the age where I believe people coming to me for help really want that help. I am also long past the age where I think that people who say they need me really do. People have to live their own lives and make their own mistakes. If they fall they fall. If they fail they fail. It’s okay. I appreciate those who have enriched my existence here. I appreciate those who flit by me on the street, like birds at play. I appreciate the living breathing masses who make up this crazy planet.
But they aren’t allowed inside. That’s not fear. That’s not naivety. That’s me keeping the tidal waves at bay while I make as much art as I can before I expire. I am no more than a carton of milk left on the counter on a hot day. My clock is ticking. And I have a message. One I’ve fought with since I was a kid. I just have to extract it.
I love you. I love your screaming tirades and your beastly madness. I love your childishness and your beauty. I love you.
I’m just not going to feed into the jibbering cacophony outside my door. I can’t.
This is me with my back against said door, throwing my weight into avoidance. It’s okay though. When the door swings wide and they find me lying on the floor beyond it…
…I’ll be surrounded by piles of art that you can hold in your hands forever. And you’ll own me then. You’ll all be able to take a piece of my sundered soul home to tack onto your wall.
