It is always in the darkest hours of the night that these thoughts take form and I release them into the ether of the internet. Tonight's dark creatures take the form of the Sin Eater. (Look it up on Wikkipedia)
This thought train began because my dear sister came to visit. Well, no, that is not entirely true. This thought train began 5 years and 3 months ago, approximately 2 blocks from where I sit, in the shadows, typing these dark thoughts. Because 5 years and 3 months ago, I ran away and hid from the world in the hopes that the cancer would simply eat me, swallow me whole and end my miserable existence.
Instead, the Audio Thief threw me out of his house and sent me back to Los Angeles.
So when my dear sister came to visit, I was able to show her my secret hide out for the first time. Suddenly, the story of my demise had form and contextual reference. For the first time, my sister could see that 'behind the waterslide and down the hill where heaven reaches' was a very real and tangible place. She finally understood where I was on the night when 'land and time is left to float away'.
As I pondered the information from her point of view, I wondered how I managed to escape that mental and emotional breakdown. The Audio Thief who threw me out of that house and sent me back to Los Angeles for the required surgery, is now lying in a hospital bed himself, at Las Vegas UMC Hospital. He has been in an incapacitated state since November. His dog, who sat with me, lovingly sprawled at my side, be it sofa or bed, died two weeks ago. The cause was cancer to the throat. I, on the other hand, seem to get healthier by the day. In fact, since I have moved to Las Vegas, my health and my life have improved considerably.
So I sit and wonder. And I wonder. Was my illness, like a sin, eaten? Was that festering cancer ingested, swallowed whole and drank down with a six-pack of sale priced American beer? Did the very act of love and companionship given to me by that beautiful Hound result in the absorption of my cancer?
I went to see him. Before this latest turn of events, I went to the hospital on my way home from work one afternoon. I went because I thought he was dying then, and the notion of the sin eater had not yet crossed my mind. He did not know who I was when I walked in the room … or maybe he did. In any case, the impression I was left with was that this was a temporary condition. I was furious as I left the hospital, thinking it was yet another false cry of Wolf. I drove home in disgust.
Then I got the Instant Message late one week night, that he was back in the hospital and this time it was for good. There was no way he was recovering, yadda yadda yadda. I had actually begun to toss the notion of a visit around in my head. Should I? Shouldn't I? Back and forth. Somehow, I think I was hoping that while I tossed the notion, wasting time with each toss, he would either get better and go home or simply slip away in the middle of the night. Then I wouldn't have to worry about going or not going to the hospital.
Now, with the notion of the sin eater bouncing off the walls of my mind and invariably banging up against the Vault door, I fear a visit. I've read the folk-lore and the cultural significance of the sin eater. I have to assume that the disease eater works in much the same manner. There is nothing in the folk lore regarding the deceased miraculously rising from the grave, thereby justifying the Watcher's sixpence, and encountering the sin eater. No one talks about what may or may not happen.
What remains now is that I am free. The sin eater, or the disease eater, ate my disease 5 years and 3 months ago in the house with the waterslide and set me free. And let's face it, this may be Las Vegas where you take a gamble, but there are some risks, some bets, I am just not willing to make. So until I can shake this notion of the sin eater from my psyche, I will remain apart from that hospital bed and the man who threw me out of the house will not receive a visit from me.
Yes, it's selfish, but like I said, this is Vegas, baby.
