I remember when she said "It's not like there's going to be some kind of unicorn anyway..." We were in my office; I didn't know her, and she didn't know me, but in that moment, we were as intimate as two strangers could be.
I laughed because I have loved unicorns since before they became a hipster symbol for I-don't-know what... So, it makes perfect sense that I have been chasing the unicorn for most of my life.
When I was 7, I gazed at this picture. I don't know where I found it-- some magazine or something. At that moment, I decided to find that unicorn; catch her; and feel all her mystical powers.... But it didn't come easy to me. She always seemed to be just outside my gaze, so far away that I couldn't even see her... so far away that I had to rely on the fairy tales about her and what she looked like.
When I was 22 and first sober, I remember fretting about how this sobriety would impact the unicorn plan. How could these two dreams or sets of consciousness exist at the same time? I was talking to her outside of a church about it-- just on the edge of Dolores Park; laughing at how silly our minds were... two days before she OD'ed on crack. Yet still I did not see that the unicorn might be there-- disguised so as to confuse me and my search.
And much like that unicorn, I know I am too much in an almost surreal way. I know my heart darts, like my eyes do after a glass or two of wine....I know that my insides bubble up like an unwatched pot, sometimes spilling over
in a mess, when all you want is a clean stove. I know that appears so tempting and so terrifying to most who stand just outside the radius of her vision as well...
And that is the tragedy of it all...
I remember sitting in that huge empty suite; alone; in pain; confused; but mostly alone. I have never felt more alone before or since. I sat there, night after night, listening to the sounds of a dying woman; not knowing that I too was dying 2 floors down on the other side of the wing. Sympathy flowers decorated the space, disguised as thank you's. Each time I heard her dying a little more, my heart shut down a little more because that's what happens when it can't dart anymore.
That's why I can understand you a little... I know you see this surreal creature that is me-- too much, and boiling over; with exclamation points perpetually hovering over my head-- and what do you do? Like me, you dart... first toward me because it is so tempting; and then away, because it is so terrifying... and too much darting, leads to one thing only.
Me chasing the unicorn alone, even though I have never been sure if she exists.
I laughed because I have loved unicorns since before they became a hipster symbol for I-don't-know what... So, it makes perfect sense that I have been chasing the unicorn for most of my life.
When I was 7, I gazed at this picture. I don't know where I found it-- some magazine or something. At that moment, I decided to find that unicorn; catch her; and feel all her mystical powers.... But it didn't come easy to me. She always seemed to be just outside my gaze, so far away that I couldn't even see her... so far away that I had to rely on the fairy tales about her and what she looked like.
When I was 22 and first sober, I remember fretting about how this sobriety would impact the unicorn plan. How could these two dreams or sets of consciousness exist at the same time? I was talking to her outside of a church about it-- just on the edge of Dolores Park; laughing at how silly our minds were... two days before she OD'ed on crack. Yet still I did not see that the unicorn might be there-- disguised so as to confuse me and my search.
And much like that unicorn, I know I am too much in an almost surreal way. I know my heart darts, like my eyes do after a glass or two of wine....I know that my insides bubble up like an unwatched pot, sometimes spilling over
in a mess, when all you want is a clean stove. I know that appears so tempting and so terrifying to most who stand just outside the radius of her vision as well...
And that is the tragedy of it all...
I remember sitting in that huge empty suite; alone; in pain; confused; but mostly alone. I have never felt more alone before or since. I sat there, night after night, listening to the sounds of a dying woman; not knowing that I too was dying 2 floors down on the other side of the wing. Sympathy flowers decorated the space, disguised as thank you's. Each time I heard her dying a little more, my heart shut down a little more because that's what happens when it can't dart anymore.
That's why I can understand you a little... I know you see this surreal creature that is me-- too much, and boiling over; with exclamation points perpetually hovering over my head-- and what do you do? Like me, you dart... first toward me because it is so tempting; and then away, because it is so terrifying... and too much darting, leads to one thing only.
Me chasing the unicorn alone, even though I have never been sure if she exists.
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