Conversations

ix.

         “So, what’s the destruction this time?”

         “Just one lost love.”

         “Only the one?”

         “Well there’s been others, but none quite such a casualty as the first.”

         “The tragic ones are always the type to leave you feeling like a battleground. I knew a man once that for years after his divorce, found himself still reciting the same poems he had once kissed into his lover’s skin in completely ordinary places like the grocery store, his work office, even on the L train.”

         “I can understand his dilemma, doc. I’m still ill with my first, her memory a fine sickness that plagues me even—actually, especially—on the days I think I’ve overcome it.”

         “Sounds like a typical case of the good ol’ HB.”

         “H-b?”

         “Heartbreak, my dear. It affects an estimated three hundred million people annually. The side-effects include, but are not limited to: nausea, anxiety attacks, hair loss, insomnia, feeling of hopelessness and a loss of a sense of self.”

         “What would you prescribe then, doc? Because I’ve tried it all.”

         “But have you slept?”

          “All winter.”

         “Do you still dream?”

       "Always, I am nothing but a mere dreamer, you see. Dreams of wreckage, of a humanity forsaken for the tranquil undertakings of the forest, of nature. The trees speak to me, sir, they promise a better life.”

         “How so?”

       “They offer steadiness and a gentle hand of guidance, a kind of consistency that I have only ever heard about.”

         "You believe the earth to be consistent, do you? For heaven’s sake, even the seasons change. Not even a fool would be silly enough to find consistency where there isn’t any.”

         “But the ruin, doc., the tragedy.”

        “I’m not following this line of thought m’dear, come again?”

      "It always comes, unprovoked and without notice, but it always comes eventually. You can count on it.”

         “And your first love? Was she not a catastrophe in her own right?”

         “She was, yes, but she was always most apologetic afterwards.”

         “Isn’t that better?” 

       "Not in the slightest, her humanity was always the worst part of her. You see, the earth shatters and spits, but not once does it ever ask you for forgiveness.”