We all want things to be.
That they are as they were,
that they are as she said they would be
– could be, should be.
And we ALL know, that things aren’t.
They won’t, they can’t, and they shouldn’t. We know this!
Mitchell wanted something. No, he wanted a lot of somethings. He didn’t usually know what he wanted, and when he did, he usually didn’t know why. But I’ll be damned if his feelings were any less real for it.
“I know that it can’t work,” he said. “But I don’t want to go without.”
He took risks, he lost sleep and annoyed every one of his friends with his dedication. Mitchell knew, though, that it would pay off.
“I will have what I want. It will not last and it will not complete my life, and I’ll be less than I was beforehand – but I’ll be damned if my success will be any less sweet.”
Mitchell has had a lot of somethings. Everything that he’s wanted, he’s made his. And so many, many times, it has all fallen apart. Every one of his friends has played a part, in every one of his dozens of years of thousands of schemes and passions and rackets.
“I have had what I wanted, but I don’t have what I want. The only thing I want is what I know I shouldn’t have; if I have it then I should and thus I shouldn’t want it. It’s simple, and I’ll be damned if I take a subpar satisfaction.” Thus decreed Mitchell.
Who would ask for a subpar satisfaction, or dare to ask that any one be satisfied by such? Whose hunger can be filled by what is already ingested? Without a hunger, we are not human; without a crush we cannot become whole. Without knowingly doing ourselves wrong, explicitly condemning the me to what must be undone. Without that sting that means: you know.
Look next door. You will find Mitchell, and he will know that you have found him. And now – I’ll be damned – you can’t ever unfind him.