Comment: I finally arrive at "Je souhaite", a 'serious' episode, and what do I do? I un-angst! Mulder happy in this one. Go figure.
4. Wish
Well, why not say it? Since I promised to tell the truth in this book, and since I've been whining and whimpering over the past weeks, why not say that tonight, I'm happy?
Because I haven't been happy for so long that I can't remember any longer if this is what it felt like, that's why. And yet, if I close my eyes and look for the first word that comes to mind to describe the mood I'm in, it's happiness. I feel light, as if I didn't have a trouble in the world. Fancy that. They'll be there tomorrow, but not tonight, not tonight.
We sat together, we drank beer, we ate popcorn and watched a silly movie. I couldn't keep my eyes off her. She must have noticed, but I didn't care. She is beautiful, and that is part of my happiness. the wonder in it is that I'm not aching because I can't have her, I'm not suffering because I don't know if she loves me the way I love her, or if she ever will - I am content just loving her. Just like that.
This was what my life was aimed at.
Come to think of it, it's remarkable how I haven't been mentioning any of the cases we have been working on since - well, yes, since that night. (I should start writing that with capital letters: "THAT NIGHT". Well, what the hell, it *was* important, it did change my life, or at least it made me aware that my life was changing - or had changed... whatever.) I've been looking so much into myself, that whatever has been happening outside is just a side affair, at times something I barely notice. I can do the job, and I'm still interested... Interested? If I had known a year ago, a couple of months ago, that I would one day be referring to my job, my search, my fucking *quest* as "interesting", I would have jumped from a bridge. But this is how it is. All the while, out there, walking in the world, I am waiting. Waiting for my life to happen.
And yet, important, strange things have happened. I still have a nasty cough at night, the scarring those goddamned bugs left on my lungs will be permanent. An addition to my permanent collection of scars. My life (at least part of it) has been taken to the big screen, to be twisted and spat upon and ridiculed by millions. And yesterday I was granted three wishes that could have changed this world. I could have altered the molecular structure of the Universe, had I only whished it. Precictable little moron that I am, I wasted the two first ones. But the third and last, oh, I was not about to waste that one, no, that one was going to make all the difference. I was going to be *clever*. Because that's what I am, smart as hell. Yeah.
Big drumroll.... tada! Here I sit, at exactly the same desk, scribbling away in exactly the same shabby black book in exactly the same shithole of an apartment. I haven't eliminated hunger and poverty, there are still a thousand petty wars going on at this very moment, murderers are stalking their victims, lovers are heartbroken, Wall Street still exists. My sister, my mother and my father are all still dead. No wrongs have been undone. And the love of my life is not lying naked on my bed, her arms streched out longingly for me.
And still I'm happy? I'm content, yes, even satisfied with myself? Yes, yes, and yes. I don't want a miracle solution. I want to do it on my own. If she loves me, I want to see the love in her eyes because it is me she's looking at. If she doesn't love me, I want to to feel the pain. I'm curious to see what will become of me. I want to walk the path. I want to see if all this introspection is going to make a country singer out of me after all.
Just kidding.
I want to live. That's my wish. And I don't need a genia to grant me that one. That one was granted to me the second I took my first breath.
Lucky me.
4. Wish
Well, why not say it? Since I promised to tell the truth in this book, and since I've been whining and whimpering over the past weeks, why not say that tonight, I'm happy?
Because I haven't been happy for so long that I can't remember any longer if this is what it felt like, that's why. And yet, if I close my eyes and look for the first word that comes to mind to describe the mood I'm in, it's happiness. I feel light, as if I didn't have a trouble in the world. Fancy that. They'll be there tomorrow, but not tonight, not tonight.
We sat together, we drank beer, we ate popcorn and watched a silly movie. I couldn't keep my eyes off her. She must have noticed, but I didn't care. She is beautiful, and that is part of my happiness. the wonder in it is that I'm not aching because I can't have her, I'm not suffering because I don't know if she loves me the way I love her, or if she ever will - I am content just loving her. Just like that.
This was what my life was aimed at.
Come to think of it, it's remarkable how I haven't been mentioning any of the cases we have been working on since - well, yes, since that night. (I should start writing that with capital letters: "THAT NIGHT". Well, what the hell, it *was* important, it did change my life, or at least it made me aware that my life was changing - or had changed... whatever.) I've been looking so much into myself, that whatever has been happening outside is just a side affair, at times something I barely notice. I can do the job, and I'm still interested... Interested? If I had known a year ago, a couple of months ago, that I would one day be referring to my job, my search, my fucking *quest* as "interesting", I would have jumped from a bridge. But this is how it is. All the while, out there, walking in the world, I am waiting. Waiting for my life to happen.
And yet, important, strange things have happened. I still have a nasty cough at night, the scarring those goddamned bugs left on my lungs will be permanent. An addition to my permanent collection of scars. My life (at least part of it) has been taken to the big screen, to be twisted and spat upon and ridiculed by millions. And yesterday I was granted three wishes that could have changed this world. I could have altered the molecular structure of the Universe, had I only whished it. Precictable little moron that I am, I wasted the two first ones. But the third and last, oh, I was not about to waste that one, no, that one was going to make all the difference. I was going to be *clever*. Because that's what I am, smart as hell. Yeah.
Big drumroll.... tada! Here I sit, at exactly the same desk, scribbling away in exactly the same shabby black book in exactly the same shithole of an apartment. I haven't eliminated hunger and poverty, there are still a thousand petty wars going on at this very moment, murderers are stalking their victims, lovers are heartbroken, Wall Street still exists. My sister, my mother and my father are all still dead. No wrongs have been undone. And the love of my life is not lying naked on my bed, her arms streched out longingly for me.
And still I'm happy? I'm content, yes, even satisfied with myself? Yes, yes, and yes. I don't want a miracle solution. I want to do it on my own. If she loves me, I want to see the love in her eyes because it is me she's looking at. If she doesn't love me, I want to to feel the pain. I'm curious to see what will become of me. I want to walk the path. I want to see if all this introspection is going to make a country singer out of me after all.
Just kidding.
I want to live. That's my wish. And I don't need a genia to grant me that one. That one was granted to me the second I took my first breath.
Lucky me.