You Are More Than Just Yourself

"A facet," she goes on, "A part of your spirit. A piece of you but nothing less than that. You may have been born in another body, but you are not contained to it then or now. You are more than just yourself."

"We all are?" I ask.

She nods, "We are."

"So then that's it then," I say, "No excuses. No way to get out of it. I am in control of my own actions and no one else is. I have to own up to the decisions that I've made and that I will continue to make."

It feels like something is pulling me down, feels like I'm being grounded but dragged beneath at the same time. Somehow, by gaining insight, I've lost something along the way.

Innocence I guess. Plausible deniability?

She doesn't see the gravity of the situation. If anything she sees it as funny.

Which is why she laughs and slaps the table and brightens up, quite literally. The dark shades of her outfit flashing brighter for a moment before settling into what can only be described as a chipper grey.

"Don't need to look so damn down about it," she says with mirth, "You'd think you'd gotten a **** sentence instead of actually managing to get some kind of insight. Yeah, you're in control of your own actions but that's a good thing."

"I suppose," I agree numbly, not truly believing it.

"See this is the problem with your sort," she rolls her eyes.

I take offense, "What sort is that?"

"I exclusively help sad sacks," she explains, "Down on their luck stuck in the wrong situation and it isn't always this situation, mind you, but it's always some variation. Only able to see the storm clouds but not the bright sky behind them and I realized something a long while ago.

"You lot only ever see storm clouds because you're always chasing storms.

"If you never get out from under the storm. If you never stop and stand still you won't let it pass. And if you never let it pass you'll never see the other end of it. You'll never see the-"

"Rainbow?" I finish for her.

"Yeah," she replies enthusiastically, "Fuck yeah. That and the greenery nourished by the rain and the clear skies when all the dense suffocation of dust and smog is pulled out of it.

"But more than that you just never see the light. You never see the sun, feel the warmth, or live in the moment."

Like she's been holding it in this whole time, she exhales now long and deep and then breathes in once more.

"You've been so preoccupied with this body that you've never even embraced the joy of it," she tells me.

And at that I have to laugh.

"Oh I've embraced it," I explain, "I woke up this morning and swore that I would and god I did. With Rachel, Jake, Blake, even the guy in the alley whose name I never got. I mean what do you even call that?"

I press my finger into the table in front of me, tapping to emphasize my point, "I literally sucked the cock of a guy whose name I never got and I fucking loved it. The first time I ever did that in my whole damn life. The first cock I ever sucked was a guy whose name I never got and whose name I probably never will get. What else is that but embracing joy? Living in the moment? Letting the clouds pass? Being present? Whatever you want to call it, that's the definition of that."

But she doesn't see my point. Instead she shakes her head.

"No, it isn't," she says, almost sadly, "And that fact that you don't understand that is a big part of the problem."

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