Healing Machine for Tom
For the anxiety of realizing things about yourself way too late for it to be any good.
You're cutting through the paths in the bog behind your childhood home, heading back from the video rental place and the convenience store where you got yourself a Mountain Dew. You'd gone to the video store alone so no one would rush you as you browsed the titles, and you'd stayed so long that night crept in, the VHS tapes were replaced by DVDs, and the rental place went out of business for good.
Walking through the bog in total darkness, you feel older than you thought you’d be at this age. It’s been so many years since you left that the paths through the bog have shifted, and you no longer find yourself on solid ground. You wade shin-deep through the peaty mess, then waist-deep, sipping your Mountain Dew as the sound of the bog's creatures engulfs you. The further you go, the more you feel the need to grow gills, so you sprout a nice little pair. Soon you are deep inside the bog, swimming through the thick, black water. You dive down and burrow into the mud like a hibernating frog. Your body slows, becoming immune to the passage of time. Now, in the quiet darkness, you'll finally have a little time to think.