Sometimes I'm Happy

Maybe I am crazy. The wind is like knives right now. I think my left glove is filling up with blood but I can’t take it off to check. I’m so tired. This might be the most tired I’ve ever been, and you know that’s something. This damned cold, it leeches the life from your bones. I’m worried I might shatter like a lightbulb. Breathe. This is just where I am right now. keep moving. Reduce everything down to the simplest actions and repeat them until you reach your goal. Focus on surviving each moment and if you survive enough of them, you’ll prevail... or die trying. Is there some sort of nobility in that? I’m not sure.

“This is an incredibly bad idea Tom. You’re a forty year old man who suffered a massive stroke in his early thirties. Your recovery has been impressive but… Tom, I don’t want to be harsh here, but there’s a reason you had that stroke in the first place. You are not physically equipped for this in any sense. It is, quite literally, suicide… Look, Tom… I… I don’t want to overstep but, I get the sense that you haven’t been happy for a long time. I think some part of you is looking for a purpose, something to get out of bed for, and that’s laudable, I applaud it, I really do. It’s good for you to push betond your comfort zone, really beneficial, and I support it, but… You’ve fixated on a really dangerous idea here Tom. I can help you find someone to speak to. In fact, I think a good friend of mine could really help you out. He’s not NHS but I’ll happily put in a word. But… I’m sorry Tom. As your physician I cannot possibly sign off on this, and you… you really shouldn’t want me to.”

He’s a good man. He would’ve sectioned me if I’d told him the whole truth, but there are private doctors with less scruples. I was happy once. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t. I know what I want now.

Do you remember the picnic in Chipping Camden? Well, the first picnic at least. That place has such a hold on you. I was going all out to be as swanky as possible, trying to go fully artisanal, real hipster stuff. I bought that obscenely expensive sourdough… I think the starter predated Edward the Confessor. I wasn’t trying to show off, I just wanted it to be good you know? But I made the fatal error of trusting you. “Oh yeah, I’ll find some pâté, no worries.” No worries… I can’t believe I had to spread Tesco potted beef on a loaf that cost fifteen quid.

That was happy.

That loaf was shit too.

God, you would be so angry with me right now. No, actually you’d laugh at me. Both? I’m seriously climbing up a mountain to find a man who grants wishes. Actual wizard shit- Shit!

That is a deep crevice. Like, ‘there’s no coming back from that’ deep. Hang on a second, I need to focus. Make smart moves Tom. Hah. This might be that abyss Nietzsche was talking about. It’s narrower than I was expecting but it’s definitely gazing back at me. I think I’ve got a good hold but it’s hard to tell. I have so little feeling left in my hands. Christ.

Look, I can’t stress this enough… It’s not like I don’t know that this is stupid, I swear to you I do, but… I don’t know. It’s symbolic maybe? Like, when I used to read the cards for you. We both knew it was bollocks but the ritual meant something. It did to me at least. Anyway, I t’s a mystical mountain and that’s pretty alluring.

I’m really just working through some stuff. When I get to the top all I expect see up there is the clouds… maybe the stars at this rate.

I hope it’s glorious. I hope that I’ve earned that. Can you physically climb your way to an epiphany? God, listen to me, it is a bit unhinged. I think that’s just how I am right now. Is that alright?

I like the stars. Remember when I pointed out Vega through the conservatory roof? I told you all about Lyra and how Orpheus ventured into the underworld and, you knew all of it, obviously, but… I was still struggling with the words back then. You were the first person I wanted to say them to so you let me. I wonder if Orpheus could play like you? I mean, he’d be baffled by a guitar but… I bet he wasn’t all that.

It’s always like this when I reminisce. I feel myself getting morbid now and I really don’t want it. That’s probably dangerous in a place like this. I mean, true story: at this exact moment, my index finger is the only thing keeping me alive. Don’t worry about it.

Memories are ghosts. Their ghosts you can only reach through a lousy medium with a torn Polaroid. You really can’t go home again, so…God help you if you lose track of it. Find a new one I guess? For me the past has always been inherently mournful. I really wish I could remember you without the sorrow but it’s hard. I don’t know… it makes me feel ungrateful I suppose.

There are some crazy icicles here, like a rack of glass lances. I kind of want to lick one. Oh crap, Knight Rider! Remember that? Punjabi MC? I had to carry you back so, yeah, probably not. I don’t think that would fly anymore. You know, two super white people trying to sing Bhangra at the karaoke? God, I loved that track. Almost makes me feel warm.

You know, I can carry a tune pretty well now. I want to join a choir but I’m kind of embarrassed. I need to get over myself.

I’m almost scared to give into the hope but… I think I’m pretty close. That would be great timing because I’m starting to feel a little euphoric. I think, in a mountaineering context, that means my brain is dying? I’m supposed to be worried about that right? I dunno. Would this be a good way to go? Is this a good story? I think it’s probably lacking important cont- Wait…

Shit, I think I see something. There’s a little red flag peeking above the horizon. It’s on a thick wooden pole and it’s been blown ragged by the wind. It was roaring so loudly before but now it’s like a dull hum. Might be my ears. I think there’s a building… It’s a tiny hut made of stone, but it looks solid.

I think there’s a light through the cracks of the door. It’s so small but… God, I can’t believe there’s really something here. It might all be nonsense but there is something here. There is someone on this damned mountain.

I might be crazy, but I’m going to march in there, even if it gets me an ice pick to the face. I’m going to march in there and do what I first dreamt of when I heard this stupid story.

I’m going to tell them about you. I’m going to tell them what you mean to me and how much I owe you. I’m going to tell them just how wonderful you are, and I’m going to get it wrong because I never had those words in the first place.

I’m going to tell them that, tomorrow, the love of my life is marrying the man of her dreams… and I’ll bite my lip.

I’m going to ask them, please, make sure it doesn’t rain in Chipping Camden.