Of tunnel visions

This white wall.

I stare down this run­way, psych­ing myself up. Con­cen­trate. Think. One thing at a time. No more than one. There’s no rush. Yet there is, because I have been here long enough.

This film was a dis­aster that became a block­buster and has now become the most tedi­ous epic ever to grace the sil­ver screen. I want FIN to appear, burn­ing its way into my ret­inas before silent cred­its roll in artistic black and white. No music.

It’s a white, white light. Not enough shadow. I have to get very close to the wall at the other end of this tun­nel to even see myself. There I am. I can barely believe it, and even as I turn away from him the tears begin to form in my eyes. Blink and stop and blink and pause and blink and con­tinue. I am try­ing to con­cen­trate. One thing at a time. No more than one. Salt­water later. Later, yes.

Another white wall assaults my vis­ion. Another tar­get for my shred­ding strength. Fix my eyes and work towards. Walk towards. Head for some­thing, some­where. I’m not sure what. All I know is that I keep see­ing faces in that most glar­ing and most dazzling of clin­ical flat expanses. Faces I want to see, whis­per­ing encour­age­ment. Faces I’ve never met and have never heard speak. But mostly faces I don’t want, faces whose mer­ci­less gaze I would rather didn’t spot the tell-tale mois­ture at the corners of my eyes. Why? Why must you? Why must you exist? Don’t haunt me here, don’t taunt me here. Here of all places. Have some respect and show some finer feel­ing, can’t you?

Even­tu­ally, I will show them my dis­ap­pear­ing act. The day must be nigh, I tell myself with a lack of con­fid­ence that only my internal trem­bling can hear. Turn and leave, with eyes in the back of my head to tear them down and to shreds as I depart.

This hour and this moment brings only the wish to hide in a shoulder, between a voice and under a well-placed full stop.