How were we to know that once we were released from school and educational duty, we would not so much be released from the play-pen or the shallow pool of life, into something that would just be another pen with boundaries that weren’t immediately discernible?
I can sometimes get a little niggling desire that all one should have to do in this life would be to partake in a hedonistic orgy where you wouldn’t have to bother too much with boundaries and rules and reputation. It’s not going to be anything like that, is it?
Simple answers to all questions, what a relief. Yes or No, Win or Lose. No nuance. No gradients. No grey. Everything just a big yin and yang to be decided on the flip of a coin – like so many of my mates appear to approach life. Like Stephen. His life seems so simple; staying at home with his parents, pronouncing his views and opinions to the world, with no place for ambiguity. Why couldn’t my life be like that? Everything would be so much simpler, would it not?
Except, we’re in this larger pen, this corral of life, where neither I nor Mark know the boundaries and borders. We do not know how far we can go to the edge, or whether we can go past the edge. We’ve just opened the door, and have stepped out into the light, and have to hold our hands over our eyes so we aren’t blinded.
Then there’s this Big Thing on Friday. I think it has rattled me a bit. I so very much want to do it, but it’s also dawning on me how big it is. The marshalling of the troops under Mark’s mum here has illustrated what an orchestration it actually it. It wasn’t too visible when we were in the thick of it, but now that we can have a breather and watch it dispassionately – if that is possible – we can see the forces arrayed towards the day.
And I once again long for that simple life, knowing full well that this is all my own doing. I have set all this in motion, and can’t very well sneak away now to play in some imaginary child’s pool that isn’t there any more. I’ve looked forward to being ‘adult’ for so long. I would be free, autonomous, independent.
It’s not living up to all the imagined promises. I can’t really, ever more, duck away from the responsibility of what I do and allow the weight of the consequences fall on the people around me. Can I? But that’s a lie too. I’ve never done that. Offers of support have been condemned as ‘patronising’. In my ambition to be ‘adult’ I’ve shied away from dependence, from being beholden. I’ve come to enjoy living on my own, with Mark, and I’ve come to enjoy the little chores surrounding it.
What the hell am I doing? I barely know anymore. I just want to crawl into Mark’s arms and forget everything, have a little hedonistic chaos between us, and forget the world for a bit. The world can wait. I want some of that Yes and No answers, a little less grey and nuance. More yin and yang with little space between the extremes.
When we go to Cape Town, we’ll forget the world. I can’t wait.