10 April 2010

Good Will Hunting

I thought about what yo said to me the other day, about my painting. Stayed up half the night thinking about it...Something occurred to me and I fell into a deep, peaceful sleep and haven't thought about you since. You know what occurred to me? You're just a kid. You don¡t have the faintest idea what you're talking about. You've never been out of Boston.
So if I asked you about art you'd probably give me the news on every art book ever written. Michelangelo? You know a lot of him -life's work, political aspirations, him and the pope, sexual orientation...Everithing, right? But I bet you can't tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. You've never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling.
If I asked you about women you'd probably give me a syllabus of your personal favorites. You may have even been laid a few times. But you can't tell me what it feels like to wake up next to a woman and feel truly happy.
You're a tough kid. I ask you about war, you'd probably quote Shakespeare for me, right? 'Once more in the breach, dear friends'. But you've never been near one. You've never held your best friend's head in your lap and watched him gasp his last breath, looking to you for help.
And if I asked you about love you'd probably quote me a sonnet. But you've never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. Feeling like God put an angel on earth just for you...And you wouldn't know what's like to be her angel and to have that love for her to be there forever. Through anything. Through cancer. You wouldn't know about sleeping in a hospital room for two months holding her hand because the doctors could see in your eyes that the term 'visiting hours' don't apply to you. You don't know about about real loss, because that only occurs when you love something more than you love yourself. I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much.
I look at you; I don't see an intelligent, confident man; I see a cocky, scared shitless kid. But you presume to know everything about me because you saw a painting of mine and you ripped my fuckin' life apart.

No comments: