The above is the hallway towards my French class in high school. I’ve walked it many times.
If you don’t know me, I like symmetry. The center is where things belong. Wes Anderson understands my taste and love of all things in the middle right where you can see them and feel them. It’s that sweet spot where your eyes converge and depth appears from a flat uniform surface. It appears I’m not the only one.
And that’s the thing. I’m never the only one. The mix I have on 8tracks? Someone else is listening alongside me somewhere else in the world. The map I’m taking off my wall? Someone created it and has seen it hundreds of more times than I have. The letter I’m holding? It was written for someone else long ago, I just don’t realize it yet. Symmetry is pretty asymmetrical, especially when you’re not the only one front and center.
Everything has come off my walls, my floor is covered with bags and clothes and more bags and all I can think of is symmetry. It’s funny that symmetry exists in odds when we try so hard to be in pairs. Ones and threes and fives are what please our eyes but we have two knees and two eyes and two hands and two everything. One of my knees is bleeding right now — I don’t know why. Luckily it’s not getting on my laptop. With papers thrown in the air and Corona thrown down my gullet, it’s a weird feeling to be leaving home, now for the 13th time. I know I’m not the only one.
Being the center of your own world is a strange feeling when you realize everyone else has had the job at one point. You’re just a series in an assembly line of successors and my words have no meaning. It’s 2:27 and I just met you. This is crazy. Call me maybe?
Back to my point, my OCD kicks in when I look out one eyeball and my foot is hanging over the ledge. They’ve got to line up. My pencils have to be equally spaced from my paper when they’re not in use. One on each side. But threes and ones and fives in pictures. Never twos and fours and sixes.
My walls are currently empty and like the Lorax speaks for the trees, my walls speak for my mind. I’ve offloaded my mental clutter and I don’t exactly know where to go from here. Perhaps one more Corona? I think it’s time I headed back to LA for a little while. I’m not the only werewolf running around at night anymore.