Findings in the Back of a Book

Earlier this afternoon I picked up an old book of mine and found this written illegibly in the back of the book:

You know you have a problem
When your worry for a thigh gap
Becomes a worry for your chaffing thighs.
When you were once comfortable in air plane seats,
But now felt like the sweating dead tuna in your mothers lunch box.
You know there’s a problem
When your love for life
Became a love for watching life on a screen.
When playing basketball
Gets traded in for teaching Canadians about basketball
And Running becomes the exercise you get
Walking the two blocks uphill  back to your apartment.
You know there’s a problem
When you aren’t just forgetting foreign languages
But your first language.

Yes and Help disappear from your vocabulary
And all you can do is sit in bed,
Tap your chest or point for things.
Struggling just to get the word “no” out.

You know there’s a problem
When you look into the mirror and don’t see your dreams.
There’s no longer any cherry blossom trees, old moth books at an out of date library,
Children practicing on the Judo mats,
Your  family’s kugel on a plate,
or the faceless man you thought you’d love someday.
You just look deeper into the mirror.
Expecting the usual nightmares.
A zombie apocalypse in which your stuck in Montreal,
Without a Canada Goose,
A Japanese AI who assemblies armies of microwaves to fry us to our doom,
A church that has so much power, even children  can quote
Leviticus, John, Paul and Peter.
A Middle East where not only Jews are gone but so are Muslims.
There is only the aftermath of a nuclear solution.
A future where I can be a Pokemon master,
But can never leave the virtual journey for a digital adventure.
And the worst of all, is the nightmare where I sit in an Asian house
Petting my 20 cats
And regretting everything I did to end up alone.
Regretting losing my family and the potential I had for a future family.

As I look into the mirror,
I know there’s a problem,
Because their is no dreams or fears.
Not even memories of dancing under the stars
Or being touched when I said no.
There is no.
Everything is empty.
That is when I realized,
I need help
And that I don’t know who to go for it.

Who knows about the problem?
Who will help me fix the problem?
Will it be you…
Or will it be an endless People 
Always asking me how do I know that person is a monster?
How can you tell he’s insane?
That she’s a kleptomaniac?
That he was raped or that she has an alcoholic father?
How are your instincts that sharp?
Is it because you’re Slytherin,
Your mother and you played people watching games as a kid,
Or maybe because your lucky?

The answer is simple,
But it’s never the answer I give.
In public my answer is books, educated guesses, empathy and key personality traits.
In reality…
In reality I know because I’m also a monster.
I just see myself in others.
I see the pain and fear
and I see the warped logic other’s won’t understand.
I see the monster 
And I don’t give it a pretty face.
I give it my face.

I’m pretty sure this is an old attempt at spoken word poetry. I had no idea I ever did something like this. I think it’s a good thing I never did it again…Doesn’t seem that good.

I.L. Knight


Give Me Novacaine- Green Day


Hurt- Johnny Cash

Leave a Reply