You’ve shifted gears, now. “yes, we’re moving a little faster now.” The space between me and Alex had shifted—she didn’t seem to mind that she had a white collar job and i didn’t. We were closer now than i’d conceded: if the conditions are right, then, yes, you follow your heart. She was reticent. Even in my case? “I can’t speak to your specific case since I am the object of your question.” my orphan’s got a little noise in her head and i was doing my best not to make that even worse: perhaps my orphan would have to find various ways to channel her orphan—just as I’d adapted to mine.
then another voice emerged: they said, “i’m a big fan of therapy.” “What do you mean by that? I see, however, that you want to show off your legs—so, what do your legs represent? this person, i think, was especially proud of something they’d done—and wanted to share it with me. i tried to explain that whatever they shared with me could make it into a book, and that, at that point, i might’ve discovered what they were proud of before they did. But that wasn’t the case—they’d just discover something even better once they had both me and their orphan driving them forward.
but what did this person have to do with AOC and or Alex? Was she the person behind Alex? the woman that—no offense to Alex—i was really supposed to be with? was I on the right path? but this voice, a woman’s voice, could have represented a man or a woman; all i could say for sure was that they were from the future (because women, for me, represent the future). he’s an idiot, this person said. they were represented by a woman named Desi that works, at this time, for a comedy channel—now, that in and of itself could’ve meant different things. Perhaps, for example, Alex and or AOC and or whoever Alexandria is were feeling sad or depressed.
Did Desi represent Alexandria? Was the true love of my life emerging out of Alex’s shadow? What was the relation between Desi and AOC if Desi was not, in fact, the real love of my life (since, as it happens, i wanted to talk to Alex more, probably because she was a member of congress, and I was really into that). but Desi had a distinct voice, one that i could hear very well, and, so, perhaps there was no relationship—perhaps this Desi person was just someone within a range that wanted to talk to me. I figured i should give her a chance—no offense to Alex—since she might have some interesting things to say—and who’s to say, anyhow, that Desi isn’t the man of my dreams—since, technically, i was attracted to men. They might’ve had a lot of things to say—so I continued to be on the lookout for voices that emerged out of the uncertainty that lived between me and Alexandria.
He set the barn on fire and shot himself. i certainly hoped that no such fate had taken place: i wondered: could we be talking about the planet—led by none other than the president—Jack Daniels? I’d think the thought had perhaps crossed someone’s mind that supported both whiskey and the president that was named after the whiskey—so I turned to Alexandria. No comment. She actually said that. It was difficult not to be angry at Jack Daniels’ supporters because of the damage that he’d done (already) and the damage that awaited all of us. then Alex chimed in: he’s an idiot exactly what Desi had said, so I assumed that we were all on the same side—that is to say, if I should field calls from both Alexandria and Desi nobody would be slighted. I explained to Desi that I was with Alexandria for now. So, what? Was i going to have an affair with Desi? but this book was about Alexandria for a long time, so something significant (even if doled out over time) would have to happen for that to happen. Alexandria was the object of my love.
Now, you might say, “Desi doesn’t exist. You’re just trying to make Alexandria jealous.” I suppose it’s possible that i could have been doing that unintentionally, but that certainly wasn’t my objective. If anything, I was worried that i might’ve been spending too much time with Alex; the possibility that she would see me as schizophrenic (and nothing else) was real. All of this—this whole book, might make her exceedingly uncomfortable, which would have been wretched, but, in my defense, if she actually read any of it, she might take the time to think, “ok—this isn’t creepy—he’s just trying to investigate what people might be like a long time in the future.”
Was I using her? Yes. But she didn’t know about it, and, if she did, I don’t think she’d feel used, since, firstly I wasn’t saying bad things about her, and, secondly, i knew that she was unapproachable—it would’ve been like me seeking out Angela Merkel, the former Chancellor of Germany, in order to tell her that i’d discovered some half-cocked grand unified theory. As a schizophrenic (no matter how neurodivergent that might be) I had to constantly remind myself that the people that passed through my head were more important to me than I was to them—we had no relationship that they, or anybody, would recognize.