I lead with my head, like the boy. When in doubt, tuck your chin into your chest and ram.
Try the knob.
Turn the knob. You know, the handle.
What knob? Kerputz.
The one under your head. Open your eyes.
Crack. Oh. There's a knob.
Stop ramming your head into the door. It will take forever to open that way, and you may get a headache.
But my head worked once.
What kind of door was it?
A swinging one. Without knobs.
Sometimes I feel so human. All skull, no brain.
Hair in odd places.
Rubbing overhanging stomachs.
I strive. Not for a golden apple, but for the ability to taste an apple for what it is. I try praying. I pray a lot now, actually. Not for things, but to be an instrument. I am praying to be a knob instead of a thick skull. Sometimes I don't think I can be anything but a thick, meaty skull, scarred and dented and perfectly effective in only .17% of the cases.
I don't mean to speak in riddles, really.
I don't know any other way to talk about this journey. It is confusing to me.
I think I need a helmet.
So, tell me, what are you smashing your head into these days?