“I want to say somewhere: I’ve tried to be forgiving. And yet. There were times in my life, whole years, when anger got the better of me. Ugliness turned me inside out. There was a certain satisfaction in bitterness. I courted it. It was standing outside, and I invited it in.” ― Nicole Krauss, The History of Love
A vague feeling possesses my soul anonymously. Where does it come from? Does it brood in the dark waiting for a chance to squeeze through my door like a sneaky black cat darting between my legs for a chance to roam? Why would I want to sequester it like I need its undivided decision about who I am? I’m running around madly chasing the minuses of the life’s equation to herd them into a pen and shut the gate. This is hard work and I’m sweating profusely, no wonder I lived so long with them amok among my things. Why do I feel loyal enough to give them such a large field to run in? I thought myself to have won this battle but the little critters spawn like roaches and where I see one, it’s guaranteed that more hide in the shadows. Life is bored with complaints, it’s time for compliments to my soul. Like sour cream on a potato and lemon in the tea, the bitter makes the taste of life more palatable.
First published in Opinionsofeye.com