Straight Up Dumb Luck
Straight Up Dumb Luck
I’ll be the first to admit it,
I’ve been lucky
I’ve been privileged
I’ve been put in a situation in life to do and accomplish anything.
Privileged!
No, scratch that
Lucky
Straight up Dumb Luck.
I have this tender, hopeful, applesauce heart
that clings to any girl who giggles at my stupid
jokes and maybe that’s because I’ve never had it ripped
from my chest and spat on before.
I’ve never had the rug pulled out from under me
or a trapped door opened with no safety net below it,
maybe that’s lent a little to my
no fear,
no limits,
bounce back,
sticks and stones type of attitude.
I’ve never sustained an unrecoverable
emotionally crippling injury
no epic tragedy,
no loved one’s suicide.
When Liz died I went to work the next day,
called my Mom telling her my friend had died
yesterday
and that I would be a pallbearer on
friday.
I miss her. I do
but I’ve never been so overwhelmed that I had to just stop,
had to just drop everything,
just said,
“I can’t”
I walked past the apartment
where her and a friend used to live
and had to stop myself from crying
because I was still on the clock
and it would have been unprofessional
and my boss would have become concerned for me
on a truly human level.
I don’t understand depression.
Deep seeded, long term, clinical, chronic
depression.
And I can’t understand depression because I am me,
and I am not you, and you are not her, and she is not him
and I can never possibly know what it feels like
to look out from behind your eyes,
and you will never know the exact feeling that I get
when the wind stirs up a cold chill in the air and it reminds me
that fall is coming and reminds me
what fall was like when I was seven, raking up leaves with my Dad just
to jump in them with my brother and have to redo all
the work we just accomplished, how just
the smell in the air reminds me
of our old home, and old times when
everyone was happy,
and no one was depressed,
and people were only sad when they were supposed to be sad,
and all I had was my Dad and Mom and brother and
that was all that I could have ever wanted.
I just want to be able to tell my friends,
“It’s okay”
“I know how you feel”
“I understand”
but I can’t,
because I’d be lying
and I try to understand but
I can’t
because I am me, and I am not you,
and you are not her, and she is not him
and it is impossible for me to feel what it feels like
to look out from behind your eyes.
I try to talk to my friends about this,
try to tell them that I’ve never woken up in the morning and said
“I can’t”
I try to explain it, try to listen and ask questions
but the conversation always ends at
“Scott, stop asking ‘why.’ I’m really
starting to get pissed off.”
I will never know what it’s like to not have this
no fear,
no limits,
bounce back,
sticks and stones type of attitude-
Straight up dumb luck.
I’ll be the first to admit it,
I’ve been lucky
I’ve been privileged
I’ve been put in a situation in life to do and accomplish anything.
Privileged!
No, scratch that
Lucky
Straight up Dumb Luck.
I have this tender, hopeful, applesauce heart
that clings to any girl who giggles at my stupid
jokes and maybe that’s because I’ve never had it ripped
from my chest and spat on before.
I’ve never had the rug pulled out from under me
or a trapped door opened with no safety net below it,
maybe that’s lent a little to my
no fear,
no limits,
bounce back,
sticks and stones type of attitude.
I’ve never sustained an unrecoverable
emotionally crippling injury
no epic tragedy,
no loved one’s suicide.
When Liz died I went to work the next day,
called my Mom telling her my friend had died
yesterday
and that I would be a pallbearer on
friday.
I miss her. I do
but I’ve never been so overwhelmed that I had to just stop,
had to just drop everything,
just said,
“I can’t”
I walked past the apartment
where her and a friend used to live
and had to stop myself from crying
because I was still on the clock
and it would have been unprofessional
and my boss would have become concerned for me
on a truly human level.
I don’t understand depression.
Deep seeded, long term, clinical, chronic
depression.
And I can’t understand depression because I am me,
and I am not you, and you are not her, and she is not him
and I can never possibly know what it feels like
to look out from behind your eyes,
and you will never know the exact feeling that I get
when the wind stirs up a cold chill in the air and it reminds me
that fall is coming and reminds me
what fall was like when I was seven, raking up leaves with my Dad just
to jump in them with my brother and have to redo all
the work we just accomplished, how just
the smell in the air reminds me
of our old home, and old times when
everyone was happy,
and no one was depressed,
and people were only sad when they were supposed to be sad,
and all I had was my Dad and Mom and brother and
that was all that I could have ever wanted.
I just want to be able to tell my friends,
“It’s okay”
“I know how you feel”
“I understand”
but I can’t,
because I’d be lying
and I try to understand but
I can’t
because I am me, and I am not you,
and you are not her, and she is not him
and it is impossible for me to feel what it feels like
to look out from behind your eyes.
I try to talk to my friends about this,
try to tell them that I’ve never woken up in the morning and said
“I can’t”
I try to explain it, try to listen and ask questions
but the conversation always ends at
“Scott, stop asking ‘why.’ I’m really
starting to get pissed off.”
I will never know what it’s like to not have this
no fear,
no limits,
bounce back,
sticks and stones type of attitude-
Straight up dumb luck.
Exhaustion
Exhausted.
Deflated like a ballon
that was released and flew
upredictably around the room
screaming, then empty, concedes
to the air surrounding it and collapses
to the floor.
I am exhausted,
but with it comes a warmth
that radiates in the lower stomach
and slowly filters towards the rest of the body.
It is an exhaustion that is earned from a
reckless pursuit of the thing you love,
intensive concentration,
an all day affair,
sometimes weeks, sometimes years, sometimes more
and when you stand up
and step back to take in
the full image
of your latest creation, your song, your gift, your child
you breathe in deep,
and then exhale,
“Yes, I’ve earned the right to sleep.”