The pain of gain

I walked outside today. In my backyard, a personal nature, the nature of my nature, COVID free and connection free. A place in which I have the liberty to be, but no one can love me as I do it. I went outside, and it was blistering cold. A real cold, the kind that scares the other cold. And in this cold there is snow. Snow I remember from when I was quite small. And my first inclination is to play with it, with my bare hands. And I do. And there’s a reaction of freezing pain that I knew was coming which for some reason still surprises me in the moment and after. And I feel relief that I still feel that surprise, that perplexity, because I’ve touched snow so many times before, out of desire, only to be punished by the hurt of the cold, and then rewarded by the desire, as it all happens again, despite my knowing the outcome, knowing how both work in relation to one another, each sensation, the sensation of wanting and actions and reaction, or thinking I know I do, and through thinking I know I somehow feel what that knowledge accounts for, or know what that feeling accounts for, but perhaps these feelings and logics are doing us not enough justice. I didn’t go outside today. I didn’t touch any snow. I simply watched it from afar and imagined each sensation, each implication, each temptation, maybe if I write these words I can improve my station, just kidding bro I’m on fucking vacation, to vacate this nation, and placate ovation, on top of the world, you can be too, no intimidation. I think we need to innovate our innovation. Without that being taken as dictation. One more time, seriously, so, I went outside, and it was cold but sunny. The warm air cooled me as I give you language verbose that accentuates hopes, sows dreams at seams. The cool air whispered to me in the way that only certain lovers do. Then it held me tightly there and hovered in a way that only certain mothers do. Then I struggled and broke free of the grasp and began to gasp but that’s just more air. I love and hate this despotic despair. I love and hate that I’m beginning to care. I love and hate this pains reign, this reigning pain, get out of my hair. So I can start anew in a place that I choose let’s call it THERE.

I went outside today. To the supermarket. I saw disjointed body’s and souls, striving for their lost connectivity. And I say this as a former recluse on the loose trying to shed his anonymity. I gathered supplies for survival, rather than for nourishment or revival. I stumbled up and down the vast halls, lingering, I forgot Cheetos, but really I just wanted to be in public for a moment longer. Despite this public being so private. I went to the cash register to pay, I put everything on the counter, and she, the like woman working there, said is that all? Which was hilarious because I had so many items. So I started to laugh. But she wasn’t joking. She just wanted to know if that was all. So then I laughed harder, because now I’m the only one in on the joke, and then she laughed finally. Maybe cause she was uncomfortable. Idk. Who really cares this didn’t actually happen. I went outside today. And I cried. Real tears. Because I knew we were operating on lies. Because the few that saw a truth were manipulating the many that sought one. And then I cried some more because I thought about myself.

Stay safe, stay gold, stay strong as people, we’re almost at the end of this mess.

Alec Febbraro