I absorb other people’s shit. Always have done, and it is all your doing, Bro.
Thanks to you I have the facility to carry other people’s emotional baggage. Their fears, anxieties, neurosis, angst, forebodings. All packaged up and dumped onto my broad shoulders like I am some form of asinine courier. Those around me flap and panic about their vision of a single future. They see the inevitable worst case, and in their calculation, the only possible outcome.
Meanwhile I must stand steadfast, and show no signs of uncertainty. I must remain calm on their behalf, at all times unwavering from a positive future. I need learn to achieve this with my own baggage. Otherwise I would buckle beneath the weight of pessimism (or reality). I have no choice. I am a victim of the inevitable, of what chance casts in our direction.
You inoculated me against the World. You would think I am grateful, wouldn’t you? Well, let us see …
So … how do I manage this feat of strength? This ability to stay sane. Fuck knows, to be honest.
My theory is Poker.
I play Texas Hold’em with each problem. I play cards with the future. I know an Ace-5 looks good, but it’s just surface. All lipstick and blusher, with a weak spine when the going gets tough. Some see the Bullet and relax, not understanding their fall is just around the corner. But don’t be passive either – I’m not saying you should wait for an Ace-King to play your hand. If you do then you will be waiting for ever, and life will be the one passing on your behalf.
On the day you died in my arms I could have crumbled. I could have dissolved into nothing, become transparent.
Fuck my Amygdala. Instead, the day I looked at your dirt-smeared face cradled in my lap, my tears stopped forever. I made a resolve to live my live for both of us. To play the pair of deuces we were dealt. Toss in our chips, call loud and proud, and play the flop.
My life is distilled to a series of no-win hands, that I refuse to lose. So am I grateful?