On the 26th, you finally decided to reveal your intentions.
I was filming a clip on Instagram concerning “The Silly Song” from
Disney’s “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs,”
in the video,
I heard tapping: it was you, and you were using the Morse code to say, “Hei.”
Immediately, there was an overflow of vivid thoughts and emotions:
for some reason, you were panicking, and
you had to blurt your secrets out.
“14 years ago, it was not a coincidence or a random twist of fate that
you found my book. I handed it to you,” you told me,
and I was dumbfounded.
I understood that every time I had seen a picture of you, it had been because
you had put it there for me to see, but you had never informed me that
it was because you had wanted me to fall in love with you.
I had only viewed you as the late philosopher whose work I was meant to
continue (for some reason.)
I felt like a complete idiot.
In my mind, I went through all the times I had written about you,
and I understood that those ideas had not just popped into my head:
I could have chosen whatever random plans to execute,
but I had always ended up fulfilling yours.
I understood that “my humble philosopher” was shameless and arrogant,
and I didn’t feel that smart and independent anymore.
I felt like my life had been the handmaid’s tale.
However, on the 26th, you were panicking because
you had never wanted to humiliate me:
you had based your actions on the question “who deserves what,”
and the “invisible being” (– you –) had been blind to the obvious, too.
You asked me to forgive you, and after a while, I was able to do so:
today, I’m not an oblivious servant anymore but
an assistant whose heart is an open door.
*Hey or Hello in Finnish.
Paula Puolakka (1982) is a Beat poet, writer, and MA (History of Science and Ideas.)
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