Ruin the Moment.

Those few times I have the peace of mind to actually enjoy things–my movies, my video games, whatever–I find myself only wanting to work. Because it distracts me from and feeds that mean little voice that tells me I don’t do enough. That I’m wasting time best spent working. I’m not good enough yet, not successful enough to take some time for myself. So, I ruin those moments for myself, again and again.

Read this and more in Cable-Knit Sweater.

Get the free mp3.



One of the most
difficult
things to accept about myself
is that there are times–
sometimes moments,
maybe a day,
maybe two–
sometimes, it’s only a matter of hours.
Or worse,
minutes.
But there are times
when the chaos in my head–
all my worries,
my self-loathing,
the doubt and the misery–
the feeling
that every little detail–
the roaring,
the clacking and clanking of distant traffic–
the way the sunlight seems brighter
on the concrete,
and the plaster,
and the dirt,
and everything–
the creaking and crackling
inside my neck and knees–
just disappear.
It’s still.
Calm.
Silent.
All I feel is the world like it should be.
I think.
It’s set at a comfortable volume,
color and contrast optimized,
and a sense that,
maybe,
nothing’s quite as bad as it seems.
That maybe there’s a chance–
a small chance–
that things can actually get better.
Maybe even soon.
Maybe.
Except Nature abhors a vacuum.
So,
what should be the calm after the storm
is little more than the eye–
this still silence that,
every now and again,
washes over me.
And then,
it’s gone.
But what’s difficult to accept–
to understand,
to come to terms with–
isn’t that this time will pass.
Suddenly.
Often when I wish time would just
stop.
I’m used to living in the
chaotic,
harsh,
climate of my own head.
No.
What’s difficult to accept–
what’s difficult to cope with–
are those few days,
hours,
or minutes,
where I’m stuck with this person–
this tired, weather-beaten soul–
unbuffered by all the noise,
all the misery.
It’s just me and him–
this bitter, self-harming,
miserable piece-of-shit–
alone
in my head.
Because that’s when I can hear him.
And all he ever says,
at least to me,
is,
“This won’t last.”

Ruin the Moment. Steve Arviso. 2018.


Steve Arviso
A former professional hugger, Steve Arviso is now a semi-pro writer with a love for pop culture and a face made for radio. He often spends what money he does have on penny whistles and moonpies.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Romina
Curve