spiders

Since my injury, I haven't had time to keep house, so I've given it over to the spiders. It wasn't really a conscious decision, but where others might have brushed away the webs or chased them outside, I decided to let them stay. I've got a path cleared anywhere I need to go. They're free here, otherwise.

My girlfriend refuses to come over now. She lives in terror of them. I guess I'm a little afraid of them, too. I keep my distance where I can. But I like them here. They're comforting in their own little way. When the world around me has turned to chaos, I can still look at their webs and say, "there's still some pattern left."

Which isn't to say that they have made my house orderly. If anything it's even worse now than it was, filled with the detritus of living and disuse, covered in dust. It reminds me of the abandoned buildings I explored when I was younger and more alive. Maybe that's what the spiders are for. They lurk so obviously there in the shadows, as if to say, "No one lives here. This place is abandoned."

Perhaps if I wait long enough they'll transform this place into a thing of beauty, all dusty and broken and, finally, alive.