Lycanthropy

I wanted to be a dog when I was a boy.

Lying in the dark, I would imagine that I fell victim to some horrible accident. With my body unsalvageable, my brain would have to be transferred into the skull of a dog, or a wolf, or a cat. Or perhaps I would only be mangled, and be patched up with a muzzle and a paw or two.

What would I do after this transformation? Go to school. Read. Play video games. Go on living much as I had before.

Why dwell on such a mundane dream?

The fundamental occupation of the human mind is understanding. Sex is a kind of understanding. Death is too, I think.

In the form of an animal, seeing is understanding. Animals are silent when they are content, and noisy when in the grips of danger or doubt. Humans seem to act oppositely. With no human mouth, I would not be expected to speak. I could be understood, perfectly, by existing and by being seen.

At times I have wanted to be less than an animal. I have wanted to be a wave crashing on the shore, or a leaf twirling in the breeze, or a column of moonlight in the air. These spirits watch others live without possessing lives of their own. I have wanted quite earnestly to die.

Friends I have known for years have told me that they know very little about me. I have acted sincerely for all that time, and have spoken as freely about myself as I am able to. Somehow, I am less than others.

I often give the impression of being emotionless. I thought that music consisted only of noise until I was six. People believe that I annoy them when I do my best to be friendly. In middle school I was called a robot, and knew so little of life that I was utterly unoffended. For many years nothing bothered me.

I fell in love in high school. I had forgotten my old dream by then. But I understood it better afterwards. I wanted to be touched and loved and together as one. I wanted my eyes to show what I felt; that I, too cowardly to ask for a dance, would gladly give my life to save another’s. That I would wait forever to feel whole with him again. I wanted to have a dog’s eyes.

I am a cold and uninteresting excuse for a person. I am an unsympathetic machine. I make people nervous when I cross them on a dark street.

I am ruled by my emotions. I am astonished always by the depths of joy, and love, and sorrow.

Now I live like a dog to stay alive. I smile and wave and hug and greet and share and nap and run. And I wonder if anyone will catch a glimpse of me all the while.

There’s a silver-colored fire star in my head and it’s there and it’s there and it’s symmetric and it’s spinning and it’s alright and it’s so small but it fills everything and it means that I love you.