Let me take you inside my head

Let me take you inside my head.

You’re seated. Your hand rests on something cold. Painted aluminum. You look up. Gravel. A rusted slide with chipped blue paint. A swing hanging from one hook. You’re on a park bench. At the most forgotten park in America.

A toddler approaches with her brother. His face is scanning a handheld hunk of circuit components and glass--his phone. She tugs his sleeve, he yanks his hand away. She looks up, wispy blond hair stuck to the sides of her face. For a moment, she is smiling. Turning her head to the world before her, already planning a spiteful show of independence. But, she sees the rockwall with only two holds. She sees the gaping holes in the tattered slide. She sees the play structure half fallen in. Her face falls. She looks up. Her brother is lost to her.

An elderly man sits on the bench opposite yours. He drinks old coffee slipped to him from the barista when he found himself short on change. In his other hand, he clutches an article. His mind is free from being tormented by his money problems. On the front cover is his smiling daughter. She has cured a disease. Maybe, he thinks, maybe that makes all of his struggles worth it. A black crow squawks. The man jumps in his seat, fingers reflexingly dropping the coffee. And the article. He looks down to see a mess of running ink amongst deep rich coffee stains. He sighs. Oh well.

You look at me. We shake our heads, dissatisfied. This world is cruel. We yearn for something better. We picture the playground in vibrant revitalization. Laughing children. Butterflies, even. A rainbow in the sky.

And then the whole world collides together, spinning in on itself to a single point and then exploding out into three dimensions.

The whole playground is sparkling and radiantly clean. The playground equipment is restored, with blindingly bright paint colors. The toddler and her brother laugh and play together on the swings. The man is eating a fresh bagel and grinning as he talks to his daughter on the phone.

You are brimming with joy. Your dream is a reality… the contrast pales you into delight. But you look at me… and my face is dull and unchanged. My eyes refuse to see something that isn’t broken. My anticipation of the change, the only thing keeping me going, was so much more than what it all turned out to be.

I was so used to being hopeful amidst cruelty that I didn’t know how to be happy without it.

So, here we are. And your smile is radiant. And I’m going on and on about the dust on the glistening blue slide.

That’s what it's like to be me.