Outside…in the morning moonlight…in the warm winter sunlight…in the flow of humanity making their way in the workaday world that surrounds…standing outside, looking in, wondering how to bridge the gap. Wondering, in fact, if he wants to bridge the gap (of course he does…everybody wants to be inside the shelter…he tells himself he doesn’t as proof against the feeling that he never really will.)
As a child he knew that he wasn’t the center of the universe…but that didn’t stop him from imagining he was…didn’t stop him from puzzling over what exactly other people had to do when he wasn’t there to see them.
As a man he knew that he wasn’t the center of the universe…hasn’t ever been the center of anyone’s universe; but that didn’t stop him from longing, however foolishly, that he could be…even if only for a brief season. It’s a gentler, egocentric madness.
Outside…standing outside the fire…standing outside the world…shielding himself with words and music and an abundance of self-pity and unvoiced doubt…standing outside, looking in, wondering if he really wants to bridge the gap. It’s a foolish, wholly unoriginal madness.
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