Pulse of the Fool

Pulse Of The Fool

I KEEP WRITING, keep trying, hoping that every effort will be something more than it was from the time before. Yet, who am I really? What am I in this world of destruction and hatred? All I know is the suffering I keep being exposed to. I want love, I want acceptance, I want to be loved for the man that I am, and not the fool that I’ve become. Yet, what else is there to this conundrum than the life I’m currently living? Everything has been taken from me, yet still I persevere, even if it’s a fool’s errand.

“Is that what you tell yourself? Is this the only way to get through the day?”

The words give me pause as I look up and stare out the twin doors leading unto my balcony. Beyond, there is a pond where ducks swim, and geese honk. It’s getting dark, but I can see them still. Regardless of how they carry themselves in this uncertain age. And in that window of those twin doors ready to be opened, I see myself. A man of his early fifties struggling to discover his own cause. Struggling to get by in a world that really couldn’t care less about who he is as a person. Just one more lost cause in a world full of lost causes. One more man on the verge of complete collapse and unwilling to accept the fact that life has already passed him by. A horrid excuse to just write away and hope that maybe, just maybe, every word written is the hope that will let him be who he is, finally and forever.

“Who are you? Some raven, challenging me to discover my inner turmoil? I already know the hate brewing within myself.”

I chuckle. Because if I’m not true to myself, then I’m nobody of note, even to the mind that continues to click away at this keyboard, trying desperately to forget the past and how it has wrecked me so.

“You know who I am, I am you. And you keep arguing with yourself, expecting some sort of different outcome. Yet, where does it exist? Where is it to help you remove yourself from the bind you find yourself within? Abandoned and alone? A nobody given nothing and left alone. So, horribly alone. Your family gone. Your hopes vanished. You are nothing more than a figment of your own imagination. Destroyed by the one you loved most dearly. Who are you now, then? Who can you possibly ever be?”

“Stop taunting me! You’re my failure mocking who I am! I’m not you! I’m something more!” I didn’t want to look up anymore.

I kept my focus on my computer screen and the words I kept typing more fiercely than ever before. I had to realize that I wasn’t that failure that caused me to lose everything. I wasn’t that force that gave up, drifted away, collapsed under the weight of my own pathetic nature.

“Stop acting like you are innocent in all of this! Because of you, she left and took your son with her! Who are you now? A nobody pretending to be something he could never manage to live up to.”

“Enough of this!” I screamed, tears flowing out of my eyes and down my cheeks.

I slammed my hands across my keyboard and tossed it across the room. I stared at that window and my own reflection. Hatred heavy on my heart. It wasn’t what I did, was it? I didn’t do the things my own hatred was telling me I did. It was never that fact. It didn’t exist. It was an illusion. I am somebody. Even if nobody else realized that simplest of facts. My reflection smiled broadly at my reaction and stepped out of that window. He stood before me, as if I were the fake in the room. He smiled his bright smile, and I gave pause. But not for long, as I pointed at him, the me from that reflection.

“It wasn’t me that made her leave!” I shouted at myself, still smiling towards me with an award-winning grin. “She failed me when I was at my weakest!”

“Yeah? And when you let yourself fall into that alcohol, that means to an end that would never come, how did that work out for you?”

His clever comeback hit me like a sledgehammer to the chest. I rejected that argument and furrowed my brows, “No, I became sick. I don’t know how, I don’t know why. I was sick! And rather than seeking help, she ran away and stole our child in the process! I was left to rot in my own decay and figure out how to overcome the sorrow in my heart!”

The other me laughed a hearty laugh, thrusting his head backwards in jovial elation. He didn’t care about me or my pain. Only reveled in the fact that I was suffering the way I’d been for over a year or more. He, me, that thing that was a reflection of myself, couldn’t care less that I hated my very existence.

“So many excuses, so much vitriol,” the other me said as I stood up and glared at myself menacingly. I looked myself cold in the eyes as that part of me I despised so much grinned even harder. “You think sitting there clicking away for all of eternity is going to change anything? Will it resolve your debt? Will it resolve your pain? No, and it never will. It will continue to leave you broken and alone. There’s a world out there you’re neglecting. You see your son from time to time, at least she’s given you that. However, you’ve yet to rectify your own mistakes with your own actions. You’re a coward staring at waterfowl while the world passes you by!”

“Get out of my head and my life, fool!” I balled my hands into fists and took a step towards my personal tormentor. That vision of who I could have been if only I’d taken that leap and put it all behind me: the misery, the chaos, the fear, the loneliness, and longing. “I’ve entertained this mental break for long enough! Because that’s what it is, a mental break! I’m snapping and don’t know how to fix it!”

“Sure, you do. Let me take the wheel, then we’ll make that change and prove our own merit. Let me out of that damaged mind of yours, and we’ll set things right.” My reflection stepped forward, and we were nearly face-to-face. “And the only fool here is you. You’ve been fooling yourself all along. And now, here we are, fighting ourselves.”

I scowled and lunged after my reflection, slashing an arm through the air and a fist to my face. My reflection went flying into a nearby table, knocking a lamp and a small fan off in the process. The lamp seemed fine, but the fan started screeching as a blade broke and went flying around the inner cage. My reflection threw himself to his feet, laughing at my assault.

“Is that all you got?”

We struggled across the living room, falling over the couch and the chair, crashing into the TV that fell to the floor in a cacophony of ruckus. I slung him to the floor and jumped on top of him to punch his face as hard as I could.

“You are nobody! A phantom! An illusion of my own failures!”

“And you’re kicking your own ass as a result! Pathetic!”

“I hate you!”

“I know!” he cackled and thrust a knee into my chest, tossing me off and into my bookshelf. It toppled over across us, and I pushed it away to prevent it from crushing me.

In the process, my reflection grabbed me by the throat and thrust my face towards the floor. I gasped for air as he tightened his grip with both hands with a meaty force I didn’t expect.

“You know, deep down, this is what you’ve been begging for. A new start. A new vision. Just accept your fate, you're dead now. Giving life to the ultimate version of yourself you were always too afraid to acknowledge.” I grunted as he grew ever more ferocious, his vice-grip around my neck incredible. “You were the dreamer, now I am the achiever!”

Somewhere deep down, I knew that was the truth of it all. I’d given up as I always did. Perhaps it was time for a change? Time to let go of my past and embrace my future. So, that’s what I did as the dark oblivion took my vision and I collapsed into some unknown void. Who will I be when I wake up? Anybody? Nobody? Something more, something less? What does it feel like to forget who you—

I STOOD UP and stared at the floor. My reflection was gone. The menace of his foolishness… eliminated. Finally, I could be the man I was supposed to be. I looked around my living room.

“My god, we made quite the mess. Yet, the story isn’t complete. Let me finish it, and then I’ll do some house cleaning. It’s far past time for a change of scenery,” I looked at the fallen end tables and busted TV. I chuckled and winced, shaking my head. “Guess I need some new furniture and entertainment as well.”

I righted my chair, placing it back on its wheels, went to pick up my keyboard the foolish me tossed, and took a seat. I reached my hands to the keyboard. It all felt right. Necessary even. “Something’s amiss.”

I looked at the twin doors, closed and locked as the sun started to set beyond the pond outside. “That’s it. I need some air.”

I stood up and went to open the door. It slid easily, and a warm breeze greeted me, and I smiled, then returned to the comfort of my chair. I looked at what had already been written. A story about someone losing their mind to the phantom of themselves. I couldn’t help but laugh and reached my hands back towards the keyboard.

“It turned out not to be such a problem, after all,” I continued the unfinished paragraph. “We’re all victims of ourselves, really. Letting time get away from us every day. And forgetting that life is right there when you’re willing to grab it. And I was completely ready to grab it. Throttle it even if it wouldn’t accept my terms. Monday, I’m going to look deeply into how to market those books just left alone on an online publisher, not making any sort of traction because I’ve been too afraid to—”

A pounding at the front door and a voice raised in panic. A man, I supposed. Neighbor from just across the hall, I realized. “Is everything all right in there? Do I need to call the police?”

I laughed and answered in short order, “No, everything is just fine, sir! Merely practicing for a role I recently adopted. I am quite the actor, you understand. Sorry if I was too loud. Sometimes, I just can’t help myself. Get too into the motions, you know. Don’t think about those around me when I get that way. My apologies.”

“Oh, okay. I was a little worried. A couple of us heard a lot of commotion, and we were talking about calling the cops. But we really don’t want any issues, you know? So, if you could keep it down, we’d really appreciate it.”

“Absolutely, my good man! Absolutely! My apologies yet again!”

“Alright, well, good night then.”

“And you as well!”

With that, the murmuring voices in the hall turned back towards their apartments, and I mused to myself as I stared back out the back window, towards that pond where most assuredly the waterfowl were settling in for the night.

“Yes, acting. I am quite the actor, aren’t I?” I reached back towards the keyboard, my smile broad and pleasant. “On Tuesday, I’ll tell some jokes at the local comedy venue. A dive bar down the street. On Wednesday, I’ll set up an account and see how many roles I can get with whatever projects are filming soon. Oh yes, quite the busy week I’m putting together. Rest assured, with that fool gone, I can even start seeing my son more often.”

I stopped typing, furrowed my brows, and pursed my lips. What was this story even about anymore? A man facing his own lunacy? You know what, I think I’ll put this one on the back burner for a minute. Until I can really suss out where the tale is supposed to truly go and explore. I stood up from my comfy seat, putting my computer into sleep mode for the time being, and looked around the living room.

“Think I’ll clean up later. Go out and get some dinner. A steak sounds wonderful. Asparagus and mashed potatoes as well. Can’t just keep writing, hoping to change who I really am without any sort of attempt to address those issues, after all.” I went to my balcony door, slid it shut, and locked it.

The air felt amazing. Maybe I’ll take a walk after dinner, too. Yes. We’re just getting started. I grabbed my keys from where they lay in a dish tray on a mantel by the door, opened it up, and looked back into my apartment.

I realized something then. I’d been holding on to the place, believing that ex-wifey of mine would return. What a foolish hope. Time to find somewhere else to live. Besides, the neighbors probably think I’m a complete lunatic. I closed the door behind me, feeling alive for the first time in several years.