The Patterns In The Cycles That Help Us Learn

Most times it feels like I’ll never be able to escape the ever winding cycle that is my life. A glorified wind-up toy is what I am. 

Wake up, work, sleep. Wake up, work, sleep. Wake up, obsess over childhood love lost, work, sleep. Not as monotonous as I thought. Except that it is.

Monotonous is what most people do. Just depends on the kind of monotony. Having successful co-workers makes my life feel monotonous. Outgoing neighbors make me feel monotonous. Good looking passers-by make me look monotonous, in the mirror. It’s possible I might not be my own biggest fan, hence the bias.

Silence therefore, is the true enemy. Silent monotony. The rest of the world is just better at pointless resistance than I am. 

“When are you getting married?”

‘I’m not ready to commit to a new form of monotony.’

Translation: ‘I haven’t found the one yet.’

That or she hasn’t found me. Maybe she still has a lot of monotony on her plate and isn’t ready for more.

How the hell should I know why I’m so unappealing? My award-winning attitude? People tend to like it or so they say. Maybe it’s just one of those monotonously nice things people think other people like to hear. 

My friend Mark, revels in being nice. He nicely forced me into being his friend is more accurate. Then nicely for—invited me to his other friend’s wedding. 

And now here I am, watching him revel in his craft among the bridesmaids as I sit here alone, nicely—done, Mark. Nicely done. 

This is why I prefer remaining in the safety of my thoughts. From here, I can judge the world and it would be none the wiser. Case in point, the happy couple. Truly, the sound of their happiness was akin to the cries my puppy made when it was run over. Sounded like it knew where it was headed, didn’t want to leave but it knew it had to anyway. It got up, took a piss and just lay back down, dead.

Perhaps there aren’t any bathrooms in the afterlife, who knows right?

Here I was, witnessing an agreement between two people vowing to face inevitability together. The thought was quaint. The idea just didn’t seem as grand as they made it look. 

‘One day,’ my dark side speculated, ‘I’ll have to convince someone to face inevitability with me.’ 

‘Who in their right mind would say yes to such a horrifying proposal?’

That’s right, people in love. And love is a virus that eats the brain. Probably makes you piss before you die too. And it’s smart, love. Makes you think your brain had nothing to do with it.

‘It wasn’t me; it was your heart, mate!’

‘Sure it wasn’t. Question is, where were you, when all this was happening?’

‘The heart wants what the heart wants, mate. You know that.’

Love isn’t blind, it’s calculating. Makes you forget the world was spinning before you met her. Makes you forget that it still does, even now. Even now when--

‘Not your kind of scenery I take it,’ raising her glass as her eyes darted in a circle to show me what she meant.

‘Here? Oh no I love weddings. The joy, the people, the kids! Oh, don’t get me started on the kids,’ I rambled.

Strange I couldn’t tell she had been sitting here for a while.

‘Ever heard of the expression; too much sarcasm?’ 

‘I mean, can we ever really have enough?’

‘You’ve been oozing a lot of gloom you know, that’s why I’m here.’

‘And let me guess, you’re here to shut it down.’

‘Actually, I’m here to join you,’ she grinned. A familiar cologne. Approaching footsteps.

‘Well who have we here, introduce me will you?’

‘This here, is my nice friend Mark, the reason, I’m here,’ part of me relieved because I was saved by the bell. Another part wondering why my solitude happens to bother everyone else but me. 

‘Funny, telling me his name before telling me yours,’ she said, unable to see that I was just the middleman. And she, was just another bridesmaid. 

‘It’s all part of the mysterious charm. Now if you will excuse me, I feel the men’s room is in need of my services.’

‘Agatha,’ she asserted, as I got up to leave, ‘The name you didn’t ask for.’

‘Have a lovely evening, Agatha. Long live gloom and doom,’ I whispered. I suppose it was quite unfriendly but isn’t that what being sad is all about.

This, is the sad part of my life. Not because I subscribed to the pessimistic package or anything but I assume this is just the time it chose to hit.

‘I’m going to piss, Police. Piss before I die,’ I thought. Police was the puppy’s name, or at least was going to be. Chickened out on a lifetime agreement to face inevitability. 

Of course it wasn’t its fault it slept next to the car tire. It wasn’t my mom’s fault who didn’t know it had decided to do that. It wasn’t my fault because well, I’m not my puppy’s keeper. So then who’s fault was it, that my life is nothing other than what it is right now? 

Empty. Hollow. Monotonous. 

‘So, how did you know she was the one?’ I blurted out, glancing over at the groom using the lavatory. It wasn’t exactly the best timing but the most honest answers are never really delivered in the most convenient moments. 

He looked around to make sure I was talking to him but it really should have been obvious, him being the groom and all.

‘I don’t know man. It’s not so much that she is the one for me. More like she is the one I chose to be the one for me. A bit simple-minded, I know,’ as he reorganized his tie.

Of course, what would he know? He’s infected. I do agree it is a choice. And part of being an adult is taking responsibility for our choices, in sickness and in health. I used to be as sick as he is, once. I’m not sick anymore. Just sad. My time was fractured at a certain point and though the world kept spinning, I however, did not. 

I still live in the dry season of 2008 even though it’s been a number of years since then. My throat feels dry all the time. I feel exhausted when I wake up. Heavy, when I go to sleep. And sometimes I dream and wake up sweating. Like I was playing my guitar in the sun. I know this because the tune sticks onto my fingers, just as the heat does. I know this, because the tunes that stick have something to do with you, just like the sun of 2008. 

The Sun made it here though, unlike you.

Facing inevitability is also coming to terms with the fact that you might have to face it alone. Some people prefer the company, some don’t. 

I truly wonder if that puppy felt alone even when I was there. After all, being alone isn’t just the absence of people, but the absence of the self as well. I doubt that spending its last moments with me was how it had its life planned out. It probably died with curiosity, not content. How big it would grow into itself. How big the world would be. How it never got the chance to choose how it left. Not that anyone does. It’s just the notion a long life affords.

Will I die with curiosity or content? It’s about time I left 2008. It would suck to live on even though I died there. Dragging myself through time because I have to, instead of living my life because I get to. Could’ve slept next to a car tire and that would’ve been it. A brief and heartbreaking guest appearance. 

See, I know all that. All the right and logical things to keep me afloat. So then, why is the sadness still here? Monotonous isn’t as bad without the sadness. Monotonous isn’t as bad without you.

Time heals. I know that. But does it heal us all at the same time, in the same way? What if I don’t want the scar you gave me to disappear? What if the sick way I keep gazing at it is what makes me forget the sadness? Maybe I can’t deal with the sadness of smallness, but I can bear with the sadness of you.

Mark really looks like he’s into it. Pulling out skill moves on the dance floor insecurities from his earlier years had no doubt suppressed. Mark was free now. People have a hard time judging nice people. Even two left feet feel like a part of their charm. There he goes, getting away with it. 

‘Castro,’ I heard, a voice filled with hesitation.

‘Castro?’ it continued, seeking confirmation. 

‘The ghosts of my fathers have finally caught up with me,’ is what I thought. The effeminate voice was part of their ploy. Not many people know that name. Meeting someone who does at my first casual event in years didn’t seem plausible. Maybe it was meant for someone else. I ignore it.

‘Castro,’ a gentle tugging at my shirt. Crap. I don’t like meeting old friends.

To my surprise, ‘It’s you,’ still figuring out whether it was pleasant or not.

‘Castro, Castro, Castro,’ she gasped in disbelief. The kind of disbelief you feel when you meet someone you thought you were never going to see again. 

‘This is the most I’ve heard that name in a long time. Why? How? How are you here?’ I asked, ‘And not in 2008,’ I thought.

This was followed by a smile. Then a chuckle. Soon after we were pulled into a session of reminiscent laughter. A laughter of memories. I hadn’t laughed like that in—I simply don’t laugh much to be candid.

For a few seconds there it felt like I was in the now. It felt comfortable, until it didn’t. It was now that I had noticed that there was someone standing next to her. The mood suddenly deteriorated and she could feel it too. Her smile slowly left her face and mine had become a distasteful version I was glad I couldn’t see. At first, it was because he was there. And then, it was because she was. 

His smile seemed like it was the most genuine as she introduced him. She had a hard time stating his role in her life so I interrupted her, because she didn’t have to. The unease in the air was detailed enough for me to tell. To understand. 

I’m not built for the kind of small talk that is politely awkward so I improvised. Brought up the weather like you’re supposed to among other things. This went on until the silences in between topics grew larger and larger. I knew that was my cue to leave but…

It just all felt too unreal, before it went back to being awkward. I excused myself the only way I knew how. Compliments, compliments, followed by empty promises about catching up with each other. 

The walk back to my seat was about the longest two-minute walk of my life. A mix of joy, jealousy, relief, sadness, longing, disappointment, embarrassment and other emotions I had no language for, brewed in my mind. 

Is the one, the one that works out or the one that got away? If it isn’t meant to be, it isn’t meant to be. I know that. If life is all about meaning then, why waste time on what isn’t meant to be? Because we have to figure out what’s meant to be? But that means we can only know it was, at the end of it all.

One other rule pertaining to the inevitability of things, is that you work around life. It doesn’t work around you. You can hate it but if it isn’t meant to be, it isn’t meant to be, even if it was. 

Facing inevitability means staring down unpredictability and accepting it, in whichever form it may take. Puppies, people, whatever. 

I’m starting to think monotony has a bright side now. Mark’s past monotony helped him grow into the horrible dancer he is tonight. My monotony helped me hold a decent conversation in a very uncomfortable circumstance, holding back the—urge to leave.

Ha. There really isn’t any hope for monotony. There is no escaping it either. I bet it’s because of monotony we are able to learn as we do. Lessons tend to stick when you learn them more than once. For now, I guess I’ll just go find Agatha. I haven’t learnt my lesson yet.