Riddled
Today after not seeing her for many months, my therapist asked me: "Where do you want your pain to go?"
I nearly laughed. "Go?!", I countered. "Go where?! Under my hat? Out into the cosmos perhaps?"
My sarcasm was undeniable I'm sure and she told me I would probably need more time to come up with an answer.
"Your question is meaningless to me!, I insisted. "It is unrealistic and naiive! She remained silent and I wanted to smash her Cheshire-cat smile into a million pieces because I hated how much fun she was having.
So. I need some time to think about it. It. My pain. About wanting it to go somewhere and where would it go if it could? Where do I want my pain to go? It can go to hell for all I care. Or, it can take a trip to Shangri-la, way out there somewhere in the stratosphere or some place near. Have some fun with Lucy-in-the-sky-with-Diamonds. Twinkle like Tinkerbell or become one of Walt Disney's when I wish upon a star, makes no difference where you are....Or perhaps I should send my pain back in time to 1906 Montparnasse, Paris to say hello to Picasso & Modi.
Becoming yet another one of Soutine's carcass-on-a-canvass. I see the Genie-of-my-Bottle grinning down at me from its gargantuan height, swaying slightly to and fro like those dumb blow-up Santas you see on people's lawns during the 'festive' season. Mine, full of more than just hot air. It asks me what my three wishes are and I say I have no wishes but that I know what it really wants. It wants OUT! Freedom! So I introduced it to my pain.
Helene PS: I know this doesn't make sense, any more than life and death does.