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post #145
bio: chris

wish list
first post
that week

Previous Posts
On Sting (and other crap)
Things I Say to My Dad, Because (like myself) He Thinks, Irrationally, He's Going to Die Soon
Why Hipstamatic Was Invented
Happy Mother's Day, Y'all
Black Pear Tree (Guest Post from John Darnielle)

Stille Nacht
You've come a long way, baby.

Don't pretend that you haven't.

Somewhere, at some time, somebody promised you that you were golden. That the fruits of your labors would produce an offspring so fine and so angelic that the trek would be worth it all.

The days would be hard. The nights would be cold. But in the end, you went through it all.


Cuz someone somewhere promised you that in the end, everything would be okay.

No, it would be more than okay. It would be glorious. The fruits of thy labour would bring joy and finally peace. Not just to you, but to your friends. Your family. Those closest to you.

The ends would not only justify the means. They would put the means to rest. Forever.

The journey will be far more than a means to an end. It will be a means to joy. To ecstasy. To peace. For not only you, but for all those who fall under your umbrella.

So you work. You toil. Hours upon hours. Bearing the burden in your stomach like a lump of coal as it grows. And grow it does, for seemingly forever.

It makes you sick in the morning. It makes you heavy all throughout the day, as you walk and you work and you toil.

You're only moving towards what was promised you what feels like a long time ago. And that's what keeps you going.

So you work. And you wake up. And you feel sick. You want to give up. But you can't let go of what was promised to you way back when what feels like so long a go. So you get up. You go, and curse the world that you have to do what you feel you have to do, because it hurts to get up every day.

The end of the journey is always the coldest, because it is winter. The sun sets so early. It doesn't have time to warm the land around you. And the burden grows. Because it is so cold, and you are so very tired of it all.

And because the end of the pain is oh so near.

So at the end of the day, you settle in a home. The home is cold. The heat doesn't work and the hot water is so-so. You know that there still more work to be done. So you do it.

You will feel like you are about to burst.

Then you will come home. It will be harsh, and it will be cold. It is winter, after all. But winter is only the silence and the stagnation that comes before the season of rebirth. The season of bright colors. The season of something wonderful emerging from what before looked merely like death all around.

You will come home and be swaddled with warmth. You will realize that yeah, though the journey may have sucked, you have not gone through it alone. Because you will be swaddled by something that loves you so much it will not leave you cold in the time of your mostest need.

You will fall asleep in your swaddle, all warm and cozy. And suddenly you will feel it kick. What's been growing inside you all along. What you've been working towards forever and ever.

It will find its way out and you will know. Suddenly one day, all that work, all that walking, all that morning sickness and all that fatigue and all that hell your lifelong journey has put you through... it will come out of you. You will look at it, and say that it is good. So much torment and so much trouble. It hurt you for so long.

But now it has born fruit.

Everything you ever wanted. Everything your life has worked for. It appears. And it smiles as you. Covered in blue and blood, it cries through what remains of your labors.

And it still fucking smiles at you.

Finally, your dream has come true.

And when you can finally bear to take your eyes off its smiling shouting face, you will look up and find that people far and wide have come to celebrate you, and the fruit of your lifelong pursuit.

They are there to celebrate you. For all the shit you've been through. The journey. The sickness. The fatigue. All this walking.

And this bursting, crying, smiling bundle of stuff that you've given so much of yourself to achieve. It has arrived, finally. And that will be the time of joy. For all of you.

The crowd will not know what to do at first. And neither will you. But through the haze of it all you will recognize these people you be your friends, your family, those who you hold to yourself dearest.

They have traveled long distances to be here with you in your time of joy.

It will be at that moment that you realize no matter what hardships you may have had to endure, the world still loves you. And them. And us all.

For it was promised to you way back when in what seems like a long time ago, from something you trusted.

Schlaf in himmlischer ruh, my friends. Schalf in himmlischer ruh.

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