I woke to the sound of trains screeching along the tracks this morning and the cats snuggled up to me in my bed. Sunlight was pouring in my room (it's getting lighter earlier and earlier as the days grow into spring) and I wondered about what happened the night before. Unexpected things, flickers in a dark room. We think the house next to us is haunted or otherwise occupied by someone that is crazy, someone that never turns the lights on.
But really I'm the haunted one. I've been trying for years to expel these ghosts. I've written pages and pages trying to get them out of my bones. But they remain, lodged, like the man next door, spying, aware, always.
It's the unexpected things that have thrown me for a loop. Small signs that I beg for and then convince myself that they aren't true, a move, a missed call, a dream and a smile. Everything is upside down but I'm not upset by it.
I told the truth once. You asked me last night to tell you something but I'll probably never tell you this. I was in a bar in Tennessee. It was early and we were drunk. I sat next to an older gay man. He was thin and had no front teeth. He told me about his childhood, playing dress up with his six sisters and living on a plantation in rural Georgia. He was high on pain pills that night, and drunk as hell. He flirted with the person I was with but I didn't care because I didn't want him. He kept talking until he finally was asked to leave. I started to cry, quietly, leaning on my friend, telling him something unknown to others. We all have our secrets, we all have our doubts. He told me he felt the same but I knew he was lying because it was one of those situations where you want to be lied to.
Later that same night I was told I was dangerous and that I knew it. I think this is one of those situations.
Tom Miller's House print available on Etsy.
Beautiful.
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