I'm worried about the upcoming election, about false hope and unfulfilled promises, about the continuation of status quo and the possible assassination attempts. I'm worried about the ozone layer eroding, about gas prices rising, and the economy failing. And laugh all you want, mock me for my stupidity, but I am worried about the quickly approaching 2012, about the apocalypse.
I take another drag of my cigarette. But I'm asthmatic, and so I worry about my lung damage, or about having another attack. I never go out without an inhaler too far out of reach. Then again, if the apocalypse is approaching (and I can almost feel that it is), an asthma attack is probably the least of my worries.
"I haven't really been thinking about it at all, I hope the thought hasn't been keeping you up at night," you say.
"I'm an insomniac. No specific thought keeps me up at night," I answer, with a false sort of cleverness. But secretly, I'm disappointed. Yes, I've been thinking about it, at least on and off.
"Really, don't worry about it." You won't refer to what you'd done directly, and I wonder if that's part of the denial, part of the ability to stop worrying.
Humans are phenomenally resilient creatures. The fact that one person can hurt another so deeply, and then just forget about it, shake it off and move on... that kind of resilience is too pragmatic, too unfeeling. My mind goes into hypermode, I start making grand generalizations to rapists and serial murderers and their ability to shrug life off. All I can say is, "Well you have nerves of steel, I guess."
"I haven't really been worried about it," you repeat. "I hope you haven't been either."
Just shrug it off. Move on. Go to sleep, and wake up as though it never happened. Forget about it, and never bring it up again. Is that how people do it?
Meanwhile, I worry. About the cigarette, the presidential election, the ozone layer, and people who live but never feel. They say that stress kills. I wonder if I'll even live to see the apocalypse.
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