Handyman

Handyman of minds, an old nickname of mine, coined by an ex-girlfriend after I expiated an elaborate plan I created to destroy someone’s life. Hours, without missing a detail, I prated, describing everything from the emotion I felt when devising it, to what type of cookie I was eating while planning it out. This name was something that I was proud of…

Three days ago, I saw my reflection in a poorly lit bathroom. I saw one huge mouth, two small ears, and two thick eyebrows. I looked through the glass and into my dark brown eyes, I saw chaotic stories unwritten, unspoken and silent. I saw falling rocks beating the ground on impact. I saw melting ice, I saw deteriorating mountains. I saw sanded threads on off-road tires.  I saw erosion. I saw the past and its effect on the present.

Two days ago, I became ill with the diseased thoughts that I am only what my past allowed. I am constructed of a set of historical laws that permit me to exist exactly as I do. I continued to ruminate on time, on how the 30th second is only because a 29th came first. There is cause, and there is effect. I realized that I am both. I am both the cause of what is to come, and the effect of what did, I understood that I was paradoxical and could do nothing about it.

Yesterday, I stood beside myself in reflect. I starting removing insecurities and doubts and replacing them with viable substitutions that would bode a better tomorrow, and future throughout. I started becoming worthy of another day, and deserving of right now. I translated and screamed those silent stories on paper and slammed the journal shut. I scrubbed the stained heart with Lysol and dusted the old noggin with an old rag and Pledge. I erased the memory of enemies that have been chiseled into me. I reminded myself of an appointment I had made to become new. I frantically shook my head in the wind and mouthed no to a rearing devil. I slapped my feet on the gray ground and clinched my fists with joy. I started remembering why…I woke up. I started remembering that just 28 miles away, I have someone already depending on my tomorrow.

Today, I woke, I stepped outside the thick walls of my bed, and breathed. I stepped into my kitchen and steeped a hot glass of dandelion tea while prying open a bag of white grapes. I slowly hummed yesterday’s tune into the tilted tea cup. I walked into my living room and sat, looked into the depowered TV with no worries or regrets, I smiled at the opportunities of today that I haven’t even gotten to do yet…I started laughing at the fact that this isn’t as good as it gets, and I’m going to brighten someone’s day with a mannish “good morning” text. I opened my journal and wrote:

When tomorrow comes,

The cries from today fade,

From I which I will not personally degrade,

I will accept time and all that it’s done.

When tomorrow comes,

Older age,

A higher grade—

Of me to be won.

Alongside my ails I live,

With comfort and peace,

I give,

To discomfort a decease,

I am not bound to what is of yesterday,

And no thrall to its craving to stay.

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