MY BEST MOMENTS IN LIFE HAVE PASSED

by Ross Sharp

My best moments in life have passed.

I do not know, for certain at least, what those best moments may have been, or what others, should they be so inclined, may judge them to be, although for my part, I’m inclined to think they may have involved sex, music and acting, or perhaps sex, acting and music, I’m not going to be fussy.

But I find myself now saddened, immeasurably so, that, at some point in the past fifty two years of my life, I did reach a pinnacle of being and of being at one with all things, a milestone, an apex at which all things good did, astoundingly, converge, so that I may have walked as a God upon this earth, a glowing, golden, glorious God, and, in that moment, and at that time, I would have been blindingly ignorant of the fact that that was the best I would ever be, and from thereon in it’s nothing but  second-rate gaudy baubles and paste beads and the clatter of tarnished tin bracelets until you die.

I’d like to tell you something now.

This will happen to you.

You’ll never know if that moment, that time at which you reached your fullest potential as a human being, as you, has already come and gone.

If you did, what would be the point of anything after?

“Pray tell, morbid and longwinded cunt, what is it has you ruminating so?”, you may well ask.

Last night.

Last night, I found myself sitting on the couch, a cigarette, a glass of wine, I found myself watching the television, and I found myself watching.

“Well of course”, you say, “that is what one does when a television is on”, you say, “you watch it. Get to the fucking point, obtuse cunt, I do not have all day”, you say.

Very well.

Last night.

Last night, I found myself watching an Oprah Winfrey special on the television series “Glee”.

I watched it all.

The whole thing.

The television was on, and it started.

And I did nothing to stop it.

My best moments in life have passed.

I know this to be true now.

I have become a thing, I know not what, but it is a thing quite foreign to me, and now my silent terror at what it is I am becoming or what it is I have become grows …

Advertisements