Dear Skeletor,
I read something today by Kazuo Ishiguro and it went like this:
“All I know is that I’ve wasted all these years looking for something, some sort of trophy I’d get only if I really, really did enough to deserve it. But I don’t want it anymore, I want something else now, something warm and sheltering, something I can turn to, regardless of what I do, regardless of who I become. Something that will just be there, always, like tomorrow’s sky.”
This inspired me to wonder where my warm shelter might be. Is it in me? Did I split off from myself, to eventually return? I always seem to be there for me. I talk to me and I listen. When I want to dance, I let me. When I come home late at night on more than one substance, I kindly tuck me in without judgement. And I send me to sleep with pleasant thoughts.
I must admit, I still want. But I don’t know what. More than once I begged God to let me know. But He gave me only traces to nowhere. Or jokes at my expense. Good ones, I’ll admit.
I was out in the sun, smoking a cigarette. I began to think about cancer but realised I don’t care about that anymore. I’d prefer to pay attention to life as it happens, rather than try to prolong a life I’m ignoring.
I’d love to say I love me and that I’m enough for me, and I suppose that will come in time. Perhaps I’m already here and I don’t want to recognise it. I want to keep fighting my Skeletor for the fun of it. But I look forward to the day I put my sword away.
Love,
He-Man
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