I don’t know who you are or when I’ll meet you but I’m getting better at discerning who isn’t you. The imposters are like little mice looking for cheese and I have to wrestle with myself so hard to accept that they aren’t anything different.
They always end up the same: onlookers at a freak show looking for a momentary thrill. And I am the snake girl at Coney Island.
I’ll have to tell you that story, sometime—about the wino sprawled face down on the side walk in front of the bumper cars, about the Indian man with bleached blond hair selling ice cream cones, about the pain.
But for now, listen to this.
When I held up my voice recorder to the sideshow speaker (this was way before smart phones), I had no idea that I was capturing a clue:
The angel, the snake girl, with the head of a lovely woman and the body of an ugly, scaly, two hundred pound snake. This is not a photograph, this is not a movie, but a living, breathing girl, alive, on the inside. Stop. Wait. How could this ever come to be? The strangest illusion of all time. The head of a lovely girl, the body of an ugly snake. She is positively alive and has the most awesome stories to tell of how her body transformed into an ugly snake. She has no arms, no legs, no bones in her body, yet she will talk to you and answer all of your questions. She has traveled throughout the world telling her strange story to thousands of people. This is a must for the entire family. Never have you seen anything so strange as the head of a beautiful girl, with the body of an ugly snake. She is alive, and moving around, on the inside of this cage. The angel, the snake girl, with the head of a lovely woman and the body of an ugly, scaly, two hundred pound snake. This is not a photograph, this is not a movie, but a living, breathing girl, alive, on the inside.
With you it will be different, won’t it? Are you even real or are you an imaginary friend I’ve manufactured to keep myself going? At this point, it doesn’t even matter. Kinda how it doesn’t matter if Jesus was real or not if you focus on the message.
I’ve learned to be grateful even for the possibility of you. It’s just enough to keep me alive.