appointments

maybe it’s all gonna turn out alright.
and i know that it’s not,
but i have to believe that it is.
— the prophet julien baker

In the daylight you can pretend. You’re OK. It was just a bad day. Regroup, batten down the hatches. TOMORROW you’ll be a runner.

Sure, the body didn’t work today. But it was a quirk. A little sleep, a bit of protein, a change in shoes, an attitude adjustment. It’ll all work out.

How many days will you fall for that? When are you going to figure it out?

And then it’s 2 a.m. in a dark living room, illuminated only by an iphone on spotify. The Prophet Julien Baker is talking to you. Maybe it’s gonna turn out alright, she says.  And I know that it’s not, but I have to believe that it is.

And that’s the moment you can’t escape the truth.

You’re never going to be able to run again. You keep hoping it’s all gonna turn out alright. And you know that it’s not. But you have to believe that it is. If you don’t believe, what’s left?

It’s easy to rationalize things in the morning when your soul is warmed by Mr. Sun’s Healing Rays  and you have a day of optimism ahead.

When it’s 2 a.m. and all you have is a coffee mug of wine and a Snickers bar with a wrapper that seems to be crazy glued on, it’s harder to ignore the truth.

You’re done.

I think if I ruin this, that I know I can live with it, The Prophet Baker assures you. You hope she’s right.

You’ll wake up tomorrow, none the worse for a bit of a hangover, fish the Snickers bar out of the trash, throw on your shoes and try it again. Maybe it’s all gonna turn out alright.

You know that it’s not.

But you have to believe that it is.

You have a date with a sidewalk. Try not to miss any more appointments, The Prophet Baker reminds you. How does she know you this well?

Here’s to sunrise …

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About gary

no sock monkeys were harmed in the making of this blog.
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