Last night a friend of mine mentioned this thought that she had had: that a good friend of hers was not actually a real person, that she was just this figment of her imagination, and everyone in her life was just humouring her whenever she talked about this friend, going along with the whole thing so the illusion is sustained.
It's kind of frightening to think about things like that. Especially in situations where you're quite sure you don't deserve something or someone you have managed to snare. Is there really a living body next to me in my car, is there really a jeaned-leg beneath my hand, is there really a voice in the atmosphere and not only in my head?
Even when you're quite sure a person is real, even when you can feel them solidly beneath your hands and believe that they belong to the world and not just to your imagination, the frightening and sad fact remains that the only thing that's keeping them in the atmosphere is the quiet, pounding pulse of their human heart. Something so fragile and so temporary and so breakable, that is the only thing that keeps a person alive on the planet and not only in heads.
No comments:
Post a Comment