You

I know you. I know you better than you know you. And that’s what scares you. The thought that someone could get inside that head of yours. The thought that I might pan the depths of your emotional tides and come out with a nugget of truth. Truth that you didn’t know lied within. Truth that, on some level you’ve truly longed for, but out of fear skimmed only the surface of your mind, afraid of the tumult of your past, the currents of your present and the uncertain distant shores that the future holds for you. Like a lonely soul wandering the shores, getting only your feet wet, finding only the flotsam and jetsam that the sea has purged onto its shores, marveling at what he has found all the while strolling past the true treasures. Past the jewels and riches that are only yards away, but beneath the surface. You pass by those treasures, those nuggets, those delightful oddities that make us unique. You pass by, none the worse for wear, but certainly no better for it either. Yes, I know you.

I know you. Far, far better than you think; far better than you’ve feared. Better than you’ve ever hoped to know yourself. I know you. While you stand at the jagged edge of you that falls away into the swirling abyss of your emotions, your urges, dreams, desires and your unbridled subconscious mind, you tremble and faint. The very thought of introspection creates in you an emotional vertigo that paralyzes. Fear leaves you frozen, motionless, silent. But I, I jump in. Without second thought or looking back I fling myself from that precipice into the depths that remain hidden to you. I have seen far more than you could ever hope to. I have the scars to prove it. And when I crawl out of the primeval depths that you try to hide deep inside, when I climb back up to that jagged edge again and find you still there, paralyzed with fear, I laugh wildly and once again launch myself into the void. Oh Yeah, I know you. Better than you know you.

I know you. We met a couple of times, but that was long ago and the occasions were rare. I was at your grandfather’s funeral and I know what you felt. The stirring of the “big” questions: What of life and death? Will I leave any kind of legacy? Will people remember me? Yes, I was there. We spoke, if only briefly, but I know you. We ran into each other just before graduation day. Really more just brushing past each other than a true meeting, but I was there. And I knew you then too. Your wedding rehearsal, the day your child was born, when you lost your first job and when you accepted Christ, I was there. I understood even if you didn’t. Do I deserve her? Can I be a role model? What do I do now? Am I ready? What do I really believe? I know you. I heard you ask those questions. They are the same questions that I ask. Even now, you are asking questions. You ask but you are afraid to get dirty. You’re too terrified to seek out the dark corners and dusty storerooms of your mind, of your soul, where answers may lie. But I’m not. I will seek them for you. I know you. I know you better than you think. I know you, because I am you.


Bill Randall © 2007 (12/12/07)