into absurdity

So I have, this month, been faced with a moral conundrum. And being a (over)thinker, I found myself caught in a labyrinth of internal debate and personal conflict. This conflict has had me agonizing for weeks over the definitions of words and their numerous meanings as interpreted by myself and different kinds of people, and wondering if my or anybody else’s personal interpretations matter one way or another when these meanings can just as easily be simplified into RIGHT and WRONG. Navigating my way through seas of grey area, thinking even of religion and its relevance and irrelevance, postulating theories to friends and knowing all the while that I was still being swept against my will (or maybe with it?) in the direction of WRONG. “Will you stop Spanish-Inquisitioning yourself?” Abi said, tired of hearing about it.

One night, still tormented, still undecided, I set out on my evening walk. But this time, I felt for a moment, that I somehow belonged to the bad people that lurk in the dark. That somehow, I was the trouble that people fear when they can’t sleep at night. The street seemed darker than normal, ominous. Too quiet.

Just then, slipping out of the darkest stretch of Oak street, an old woman hobbled toward me. Crossing herself twice, she approached at a fast clip, looking straight at me. I looked back, hoping for a sign. She stared. And then. She said: “God help me, I should have gone to the bathroom before I left! I hope I make it!”