Meathead Monologue

excerpt: the act of acceptance

as icarus once did, i reach my hand towards the one thing i know i should not. i follow in the steps of a fool, and i touch the thing that is well known for being untouchable and my hand crumbles to dust. in despair, i cry out, asking why such a thing happened to me. i get no answer. my other hand reaches out to the glory that floats within my vicinity. it is the kind of feeling that can bring life to my heart, something i lack. and as my threaded flesh extends towards what is not possible, my limbs combust as my punishment.

"no!" icarus screams at me, "no!" as if i am an animal. he screams in a way of discipline and outrageous surprise.

what is left of me shrinks back into a corner of my heart i call home. icarus laughs and it shakes my bones from the inside out. true dread in me, true disappointment in him. and i weep for my mistakes. i weep for lost limbs. but as i am rebuilt, my brain molds the same.

"can you not see the mistakes you make?" icarus bellows down at my body. "can you not understand that greatness is untouchable! that what you want is inaccessible! that what you touch you will break! that fragile things in this world will never be accessible!" icarus has tears running down his face there is an anger to his voice that i know i will not decipher, yet i try to understand his teachings.

i look to what i try to have and the urge to hold it is stronger than my will to live. i would die for it. i would give my last breath for a touch of it on my finger tips. suddenly, as i gaze upon my body i see that i have been granted a second chance. my fingers stretch and icarus watches me. if there is one things he should know about me, if is that i do not learn my lessons and i am quite selfish. i relapse.

icarus closes his eyes and does not try to stop my movements, as if he is unaware of my intentions. instead he kisses the hand he has given back to me, only to watch as it dissipates once more under glory untouchable.

"you fool, you fool!" icarus screams at me, smashing his fists into the sky, "why do you make my mistakes, and why do you let me watch? why is this the thing you desire? i told you, woman! do not make my mistakes! let me suffer for you!" icarus is kind and he considerate, but he is foolish for thinking i will learn from someone else's mistakes. and he is jealous that i can keep ruthlessly making those mistakes.

as the bones of my rib cage fall away from my chest and the skin on my muscle burns to a crisp, the remaining nerves in me concoct a smile upon my face. and that is was makes icarus and i different. we love and we get hurt, and icarus knows when to stop. but i cannot accept when i am defeated.

icarus then knew that i, too, loved the sun just as much as he.

r.k.