Tuesday, August 05, 2003
Today.
I fled from the Madding Crowd. One of the things about being an Empath is that you know, by a certain hesitation, a certain nonchalence... and the mental pieces fall into place. You catch a glimpse of the blueprints for the evening, and back out gracefully. Some things are more important than you are, and it doesnt really bug you much.
I toyed with the idea of walking home or going out, and decided on a whim that if, by the time I reached the bus-stop ten yards away, a bus heading towards Borders appeared, I would get on it; otherwise I would go home. I didn't even have to break stride as a bus pulled up and its doors opened in front of me.
I had KFC chicken and gravy for dinner, and surprisingly, enjoyed it. For those not in the know, KFC UK (yes, indeed intentional) doesn't have whipped potato, but gravy. Fast track to a coronary event, but somewhat enjoyable, in a greasy, finger-lickin' kinda way.
I walked down the Thames as the sun set, for only the second time in Summer, ever.
I figured that people who jump off bridges over the Thames probably don't die from the impact alone. The bridges are too low off the water to kill anyone. But I realised that the jumping points generally have large outcrops of stone below making up the support columns. So you bounce off a concrete block and knock yourself senseless before going under.
I knelt with my chin on the backs of my hands and hugged a stone column for its warmth, and watched a blood-red moon fading gently into cream, and a pale-blue sky darken rapidly into black. I watched the last reds fade from the sky and the water, and remembered once upon a time, when I fantasized about Your coming over here to do Your elective. I remembered how I'd have - at that spot, I reckon, Blackfriar's bridge - taken Your hand, and I remembered the flourish I'd have made with the other. And instead, half a decade later, I just whispered, silently, into the callous breeze, "all this I give you, milady. Welcome to my Kingdom."
I painstakingly keyed this SMS message to You :
"I wish I knew what to say to you, to get to talk with you the way we used to. I never did learn how to forget you"
but couldn't hit the OK button, as usual.
I watched two males viciously kicking a man lying on the floor, crying out for help, in the head several times, and logged a call to the police. They left shortly after and I reached the prostrate figure struggling to get to his hands and knees in the little pool of blood around him. I eyeballed his shiny new shoes and his clean jacket, and his bag of medications and asked him if he was homeless, which he admitted to. Speaking clearly, no SOB, minimal blood loss, GCS 15/15, PERLA, no apparent limb weakness, no base of skull. I noted his warfarin and discovered that they were for DVTs, and when the ambulance men arrived I told them the little I'd seen and my basic assessment, and one of them looked at me appraisingly and asked me if I was a doctor.
I stood for a while under the millenium bridge and remembered a time when the bridge hadn't existed yet, when I'd sat on those same steps and felt overwhelmed by memories of You. Those same steps which are now replaced by the struts of an incongruous looking structure bridging the Thames.
I walked across Tower bridge, backlit by brilliant floodlights for the first time ever, at midnight and realised first-hand how much prettier it looks, at night.
I drank in a myriad of orange-lit windows reflected in the calm waters of St Katherine's docks, and remembered coming here with you. I don't know if you read this page, and I'm guessing you don't. But we had some good times, eh kiddo, you and me? I remember that we were there in the day, though, and it was sunlight coming off the water. Regal, rather than pretty. And I felt sorry. I wasn't a very good boyfriend, was I? I'm sorry for all the times I let you down, and for all the times I hurt you, and all the times I hurt me as well. In retrospect, I suppose we should have stayed friends, the way Alice and I are, and saved each other the pain. I was weak, and for that, I am sorry.
Towards the end of it all, I found myself wondering what it would be like to meet someone a little kinder, a little nobler, a little taller. And then I realised I'd already met Her.
I wondered, if You'd let me walk with You, that last day, down the Thames whether things would have turned out differently; perhaps in the excitement of showing You all the wonders of sunset, over "my Kingdom" I'd have forgotten to hurt us. Perhaps I would have realised it didn't matter after all. Perhaps I would still hear Your voice today, and not just the echoes in my head. Perhaps I wouldn't get pangs of sadness when I tease someone and feel my eyes doing what Yours used to do, once - and try to stop myself, in the act.
Today, I ran far from the madding crowd, to be alone inside my head, and it saddened me, but it was Good, and peaceful.
We get by, as best we can.
I fled from the Madding Crowd. One of the things about being an Empath is that you know, by a certain hesitation, a certain nonchalence... and the mental pieces fall into place. You catch a glimpse of the blueprints for the evening, and back out gracefully. Some things are more important than you are, and it doesnt really bug you much.
I toyed with the idea of walking home or going out, and decided on a whim that if, by the time I reached the bus-stop ten yards away, a bus heading towards Borders appeared, I would get on it; otherwise I would go home. I didn't even have to break stride as a bus pulled up and its doors opened in front of me.
I had KFC chicken and gravy for dinner, and surprisingly, enjoyed it. For those not in the know, KFC UK (yes, indeed intentional) doesn't have whipped potato, but gravy. Fast track to a coronary event, but somewhat enjoyable, in a greasy, finger-lickin' kinda way.
I walked down the Thames as the sun set, for only the second time in Summer, ever.
I figured that people who jump off bridges over the Thames probably don't die from the impact alone. The bridges are too low off the water to kill anyone. But I realised that the jumping points generally have large outcrops of stone below making up the support columns. So you bounce off a concrete block and knock yourself senseless before going under.
I knelt with my chin on the backs of my hands and hugged a stone column for its warmth, and watched a blood-red moon fading gently into cream, and a pale-blue sky darken rapidly into black. I watched the last reds fade from the sky and the water, and remembered once upon a time, when I fantasized about Your coming over here to do Your elective. I remembered how I'd have - at that spot, I reckon, Blackfriar's bridge - taken Your hand, and I remembered the flourish I'd have made with the other. And instead, half a decade later, I just whispered, silently, into the callous breeze, "all this I give you, milady. Welcome to my Kingdom."
I painstakingly keyed this SMS message to You :
"I wish I knew what to say to you, to get to talk with you the way we used to. I never did learn how to forget you"
but couldn't hit the OK button, as usual.
I watched two males viciously kicking a man lying on the floor, crying out for help, in the head several times, and logged a call to the police. They left shortly after and I reached the prostrate figure struggling to get to his hands and knees in the little pool of blood around him. I eyeballed his shiny new shoes and his clean jacket, and his bag of medications and asked him if he was homeless, which he admitted to. Speaking clearly, no SOB, minimal blood loss, GCS 15/15, PERLA, no apparent limb weakness, no base of skull. I noted his warfarin and discovered that they were for DVTs, and when the ambulance men arrived I told them the little I'd seen and my basic assessment, and one of them looked at me appraisingly and asked me if I was a doctor.
I stood for a while under the millenium bridge and remembered a time when the bridge hadn't existed yet, when I'd sat on those same steps and felt overwhelmed by memories of You. Those same steps which are now replaced by the struts of an incongruous looking structure bridging the Thames.
I walked across Tower bridge, backlit by brilliant floodlights for the first time ever, at midnight and realised first-hand how much prettier it looks, at night.
I drank in a myriad of orange-lit windows reflected in the calm waters of St Katherine's docks, and remembered coming here with you. I don't know if you read this page, and I'm guessing you don't. But we had some good times, eh kiddo, you and me? I remember that we were there in the day, though, and it was sunlight coming off the water. Regal, rather than pretty. And I felt sorry. I wasn't a very good boyfriend, was I? I'm sorry for all the times I let you down, and for all the times I hurt you, and all the times I hurt me as well. In retrospect, I suppose we should have stayed friends, the way Alice and I are, and saved each other the pain. I was weak, and for that, I am sorry.
Towards the end of it all, I found myself wondering what it would be like to meet someone a little kinder, a little nobler, a little taller. And then I realised I'd already met Her.
I wondered, if You'd let me walk with You, that last day, down the Thames whether things would have turned out differently; perhaps in the excitement of showing You all the wonders of sunset, over "my Kingdom" I'd have forgotten to hurt us. Perhaps I would have realised it didn't matter after all. Perhaps I would still hear Your voice today, and not just the echoes in my head. Perhaps I wouldn't get pangs of sadness when I tease someone and feel my eyes doing what Yours used to do, once - and try to stop myself, in the act.
Today, I ran far from the madding crowd, to be alone inside my head, and it saddened me, but it was Good, and peaceful.
We get by, as best we can.
