The Forbidden Question

I was considering the question of ‘being’ and how it is that we manage to be and this had opened up a whole big bag of worms. This was letting the worm right out of the bag and no mistake. It can happen to any of us. Anyone can make this mistake – anyone at all. It’s just a matter of accidentally thinking the wrong thought. It’s the easiest thing in the world to do, it really is – one minute you could be toddling along as happy as Larry not a bother on you not a care in the world life was never so good and you’re a happy camper. You’re doing this, doing that, going here, going that, thinking this, thinking that and then the very next moment purely by accident you think the wrong thought you pull the short straw and it all goes pear-shaped. You wish you could turn back time, you wish to God you could turn back time but of course you can’t. You wish so much that you could back to how you were a moment ago just before you thought the wrong thought. You want to go back. It’s like the worst case of homesickness ever – you just want things back the way they were and the nostalgia pangs are killing you. You were a complete idiot and you were happy. Now, you’re still a complete idiot but it’s very far from happy you are. It’s like sucking on a strand of spaghetti from your dinner plate and it turns out to be the short straw the final straw the straw that broke the camel’s back and the next thing is that everyone in the restaurant is looking at you aghast. You did the wrong thing you thought the wrong thought and now the whole thing has come undone. You were only trying to be happy the best way you knew how but you didn’t know what happy was. You hadn’t a clue. You spoke up bravely enough at the time but then you forgot to duck and so you got it in the neck. I was considering the question of how to be, I was wondering what you had to do in order to be and as soon as I wondered this I realized that I hadn’t a clue. I was wondering what the trick of it was and then the next thing was that it all fell apart on me it went pear-shaped all came to pieces in my hands. It’s one of those things isn’t it? Everyone else knows how to do it – they do it so effortlessly so unselfconsciously whilst I flounder around like a drowning idiot calling attention to my own shortcomings without meaning to. Just look at them – how do they do it, you ask? What’s their trick? How do they know how to do it? I’d been doing it too not so longer ago, I thought to myself sadly. Before I’d asked the forbidden question…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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