rehab

But but but. Why. Why. You said. But. You. Said. Again and again. But but but. Why. Why. You said. But. You. Said. Times ten. Times ten thousand. Like picking at a scab. Like stepping in front of a bus. Like hitting myself over the head with a baseball bat. But but but. You said. But. You. Said.

We fought Sunday morning.

And as all those words left my mouth. The second they hit the air. The instant my lips let them go. I was thinking. Stop. I don’t want this. Why am I here? What am I fighting for? It’s almost in slow motion. I’m sure my eyes looked vacant. I don’t remember what I was doing with my hands. Walk away. Walk away.

“What do you want?” He was exasperated with me. I could see it in his eyes. Hear it in his tone. He was looking right at me. Stopped what he was doing. I just wanted to close my eyes and disappear. Why am I here? What am I fighting for? The panic of i-don’t-know sunk my stomach. Like swallowing a lead weight.

I didn’t say that I didn’t know though. I don’t know what I said. But I know it wasn’t that I didn’t know. And while I was saying what I can’t remember I was thinking that I’ve been here before. These words. This fight. I’ve had it before. I’ve had it with him. And with him. A slide show of show downs. Me. Doing. This. Again and again. Different boys. Same me.

“What does it feel like when you’re fighting?” she asks me.

“I’m in it. I’m articulate. I can be unfair and hurtful. It has my attention. But I don’t know why. As I’m fighting, I’m wishing I weren’t fighting. I want to walk away.”

“But you don’t.”

“I don’t.”

“Does it feel like you’re fighting for your life?”

Remember in Me and You and Everyone We Know when Miranda July goes back to the shoe department. Remember how he burnt his hand and it’s wrapped in gauze. Like a mitten. And she asks him what happened.

“Whoa, what happened?” Miranda July asks.

He tells her she can have the long version or the short version. And she picks the long version without the slightest hesitation.

“The long one.” Miranda July says.

He says the long version is he was trying to save his life but it didn't work. She asks him what the short version is.

“Wow. What’s the short one?” Miranda July asks.

He says I burnt it.

It’s just like that. It’s exactly just the same as that.

“Does it feel like you’re fighting for your life?”

“Yes.”