The light was suddenly so pretty on the bookcase, from where I was sitting on the couch, reading and ruminating. Moments earlier, I was caught in one of the dilemmas that has defined my character throughout my life: the fight to somehow quell a sense of emotional injustice without confessing that I deserved my punishment. This demon is so persistent that only one way has been left open to me – a detente. I am trying to take a further step, beyond ceasing inner hostilities. Since this contorted self-reflection goes where I go, lives where I live, I have to ask myself not only “How do I live with it?” but, “Aren’t other people suffering in exactly this same way?”
And so I cling to a deep feeling in my heart that my best, truest chance to connect with other people, comes from sticking with my demon the way it has stuck with me. I will not find that experience at any other more blissful address. And I won’t be humble, and I won’t be right. But I will be brave enough to let the light on plastic roses get me off the couch, and see what happens next.