chasing an illusion - pipabeth

1- order and chaos

six years later.

new york city.

before the reign of the gods, there were titans. they ruled the earth with violence and chaos. when zeus became king of the gods and the olympians took over, order was created from the chaos. they were gods because they are creators of order and chaos.

what does that make me?

i twist the shower knob to turn off the water.

the city was full of all types of chaos. maybe not titans, but there are elements that never stop changing with no system or method. and sometimes things are just meant to be that way. not me, though. every action has a place and time.

i wake up at 5 a.m. every morning without fail. i have my alarms set to play my playlist of classical music on shuffle. i get coffee and eat a croissant or maybe a sandwich. at 8, i'm off the subway and at work. at 4 p.m., i leave work and grab groceries on the way home. by 7 p.m. i would have had dinner. between 8 and 9, i would have cleaned up and have gotten ready for bed. i'm in bed before ten. i stare at the darkened ceiling and think. then sleep over takes me.

and i don't try to stray from this weekday schedule. it has become sacred. new york runs on schedules. the subway schedules. the trash collection schedules. yet new york still harbors chaos.

order and chaos, order and chaos. one always chases the other. it is up to us, the individual, to decide who is the runner and who is the chaser.

i choose order. as an architect, that is my job. i find design in shapes and i find room in spaces. drawn lines and a series of numbers turn into the physical walls that hold the ambitions of people. human beings.

steam rises around me in clouds. i dry my wet hair and change into sleeping clothes. i still have some time to clean up before bed. i put on my youtube playlist of classical music to listen to while i wipe down my kitchen counters.

there's always comfort in classical music. my dad liked to listen to classical when he worked. classical music, like mechanics, came in parts. they followed rules and beats and rhythms. and they instruments come together and make a moving part. composers, he said, are engineers in every way. they look at the parts and they make it into something bigger. into an experience that people can use. beats, rhythms, and sounds. they are things that can be understood. there are no words to muddle it. no confusion of poetry or interpretation. just sounds, like moving parts. gears in an machine.

an ad plays before the music can start. it's a trailer for an upcoming movie.

i haven't seen a movie in a while. not in theaters, anyway. maybe i could go see a movie with some friends. they'd like that. it's the least i could do. i always have a habit of not making time for them.

i listen to the trailer.

"one man...."

of course. i can't help but roll my eyes. hollywood seem to have an endless supply of movies of individual middle aged men protagonists.

"saves the world,"

and of course he has to save the world. what else would he do? it's as if all these movies had the same exact plot, over and over again. i don't look at the screen, i keep on cleaning.

"starring tristan mclean, coming to theaters near you,"

my stomach drops and i stop in my tracks.

starring who?

i didn't know he still acted. he hasn't played a major role in so long.

my music plays now that the ad had ended, but i felt like a ghost. my fingers didn't feel like mine. my feelings didn't feel like mine. my thoughts didn't feel like mine. i had lost autonomy. i could not be what i thought i was.

i try to push these... these things back down where they belong. i try to put the past things in the past and the future things in the future, but order and chaos do not chase each other anymore. the orders of the universe seemed to have been rearranged.

order and chaos do not chase each other. they chase me.

i go to bed before they can catch me. i plead my head to let me sleep quickly so i don't have to deal with these things in my head and filling my chest.

it was years ago and none of it matters. it was years ago and none of it matter. again and again, i repeat it to myself as i run in circles, being chased.

even when i give in and fall asleep, they are waiting for me when i awake at five o' clock on the dot.

order and chaos, order and chaos.

i brush my teeth and wash my face and stare in the mirror at the person i was and the person i am. my cold, gray eyes stare back. i do not recognize myself.