Monologue About Apocatastasis (A Transference)

It’s just, you know, after falling in love that first time, you’ve got all of this…I don’t know…you’ve just known this whole new…capacity? And you don’t want to let it go. You know? Not letting someone go, that’s not really what I’m talking about…but the feeling—the idea, really. So, here I am, right?—with all of this…and I can’t just get rid of it. So I just want to find someone else to give it to. But then I feel weird. Like, it starts to turn my stomach. Because it’s not even that I’m in love with someone else and I’m pretending that this new person is them. It’s like a siphon. You know when you siphon gas? You stick a tube in a gas tank and you start sucking on the air. Then you get a mouthful of it. That part is gross—a shock. But you’ve got this flow, and it’s got a momentum to it. It just keeps coming and coming. It doesn’t care where it’s going. It just flows. That’s exactly how it is. There’s a bit of fear moving into that first love, you know? Like, you can hear all sorts of stuff about it, but you never really know unless you do it. So yeah, that’s the plunge: when you put that tube in the tank and you start pulling on that foreign air. Then it hits you. And that part is scary. But then it’s almost easy—like you already know. And it’s got a force to it. But, and here’s where you’ve gotta stay with me, what if that bucket or tub or whatever has a crack in it or it gets full? You’ve gotta find something else, that flow isn’t stopping. I guess that’s how I feel, like I’m just filling up whatever’s there just because it’s there. And that’s why it makes me sick. Because it makes all of this impersonal. And what’s that, then?