Thursday night, the bearded one lay on my couch. Confused, sad, and an air of despair surrounded him.
After we were able to clear our heads from the ridiculous Lost season finale, our hero attempted to sit up, only to topple back to the brown cushions he tried to leave. "I don't know how much longer I can go," he confides. "The beard... when this is all over. When one of us takes scissor in hand finishes the madness. This beard. It weighs heavily on my mind. It's become part of my persona. It's defining who I am and who I'm becoming... I don't know if I want to change. HAVE I changed? I don't know. How could I, after all? If it has already changed me in ways I can't perceive, how can I know for sure? Two months ago, I was full-on beard. Shaved the head. Went through the crazy looking phase. Now... now I don't know.
I just don't know how much longer I can carry it...
No comments:
Post a Comment