Justified Validity
"So, why am I here?" asked Lance.
Because frankly, I need something to occupy my thoughts with, and you're a prime candidate for that.
"That's all I am to you? Just something to occupy your thoughts? Just a passing thought? That's it?"
No. You're more important than that. You're me, or maybe you're just who I wish I was. You do the things I wish I could do. You say the things I wish I could say. You fill in the holes. You're like my non-existant partner in crime.
"But I do exist. Just because you can't feel me or see me doesn't mean I don't exist."
Fine. You got me there. Thoughts exist. I just meant that you dont exist in the world in a physical sense.
"There. That's better." Lance paused and looked around at the great, open, white plain. "There's nothing here."
Would you like there to be something here?
"A chair would be nice."
Fine. There was a stool next to Lance. Lance looked at it and took a seat.
"A stool? That's all I get?"
That's all you need.
"Fine. So, what now?"
I'm not sure. Do you have any questions?
"Why is my name Lance. I mean, if I'm you, shouldn't my name be Michael?"
Good question. Think back to the first story I wrote about you and Michael. Remember how you wanted to change your name...
"It's just. I mean, I can be happy now. I can go out and have fun with my friends. I can laugh. I can have a good time, but...i'm not happy with my life. I'm not happy with myself. In fact, I'm very UNhappy with myself. I had the stupidest, most ridiculous thought today," Lance said with a laugh. "I actually considered changing my name today. To what I don't know...but I just thought...i dunno...i just thought about it..."
"What would that solve?" asked Michael.
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing...but it'd be a change..." Lance stopped and looked around. "Ok. So, why is my name Lance?"
Well, Lance is the name that I would change my name to. Remember, the first story about you two actually happened.
"Right right."
Any other questions?
"What's Michael's real name?"
That's Mark.
"Why'd you give your ex-boyfriend your name? That seems to just complicates things. Ya know, I've noticed that a lot. You like to do things simply to make things more difficult."
I know. I gave him my name because I wanted to illustrate how alike we are, and how well I believe I know him.
"A little cocky, doncha think?"
Perhaps, but it's just a story.
"What about the other characters?"
Well, Ben from the story isn't the real life Ben. Ben from the story...his real name is Stuart. And then Kyle from the story...that's Ben. It's funny actually. Originally I just sorta pulled the name Kyle outta nowhere, but I was thinking about it the other day and I realized I had used the name Kyle before. Kyle is also my right kidney...and my right kidney has always given me the most problems with kidney stones. I found it quite fitting. Kyle being the source of problems and all...
"Do you really think Kyle or Ben or whoever, is the source of your problems with Mark or Michael or whoever?"
No, but he certainly complicated things. I told Mark that would happen. I did. I told him it was just a passing thing and that in a few weeks he was going to realize what he did and then Ben would just be another complication that Mark and I had to deal with.
"That's not how it happened though."
Obviously.
"So, the first story. That actually happened. So, you just wrote it as an interesting way of updating your journal?"
Pretty much. That, and its easier to detach yourself from events if you don't put yourself back in them when you write about them. That's where you come in.
"So, you created me to protect you from the pain?"
Bingo.
"Well, thanks. Now I feel so much better about my existance," Lance said sarcastically.
Oh please. Don't get angry simply because all you are is a means to an end. That's all any writing is. A means to an end. A conveyor of some kind of information.
"Whatever. I really don't have a choice in how you use me to complete your thoughts and fill in your holes, and that's fine. I don't care," he said coldly sincerely.
You're a great help, Lance. You help me say what I want to say, and it's greatly appreciated.
"Whatever. So, what are you trying to say with this entry, huh? Something thought provoking and eye opening? Or maybe you're just trying to say that Mark's a giant fuckhead who should go suck his own cock. Is that it? Is that what you want to say?"
All of a sudden Lance felt the barrel of a gun pressed tightly to his temple. He couldn't move, not out of fear, but because some unseen force was holding him in place on the stool.
You should be careful, Lance. Just because I've revealed myself to you doesn't give you the power to control me. I am still in control.
"That's what its all about, isn't it? Control? That's what you need. You need control over your life. Or at least the illusion of control. It's just like Jurrasic Park!"
Lance, you're hysterical. You should calm down.
Lance calmed down and the gun disappeared.
"I might be calm now, but I hope you realize it wasn't me who was out of control. It was you who made me do those things."
I'm going to pretend as if you didn't say that. Any other questions?
"You mentioned having an idea for another story. Would this story include me?"
Of course.
"What's it about?"
Its about you...and Mark, or Michael, I suppose. Depending on which set of names you want to use. It's about Mark and I, and then Mark and Ben, and then Peter and I.
"Who's Peter?"
Peter is...whoever I want him to be. He's everything I want in a guy. He's just...the one guy for me I suppose.
"Does this Peter have a real life counterpart?"
I sure hope so. Have I met him yet? I dunno. Maybe yes. Maybe no. Who can say really. Peter is just the one guy I'll be with forever. Whoever that might be.
"So, that's your story? Thats it? That's all I get?"
Well, it takes place at the beach.
"You write about the beach a lot."
Well, the beach is important to me. I can't help it if I like writing about the beach. Regardless, I think it's a pretty good story. A little trite maybe, but fairly good.
"Show me."
The warm sand massaged Michael's feet as he walked alongside his friend, Lance. They had decided to be friends for the time being, or moreso, Michael had told Lance that was all he wanted. Lance had argued against it many times, but Michael knew Lance couldn't really do anything about it. If he said they were just friends, then they were just friends, right? Michael tried not to think about it all though, as they walked together along the edge of the cool water, talking and laughing.
The beach always seemed to help the two of them escape from reality for just a moment. They could drive all the way out there, leaving the rest of the world behind, just to walk along the side of the water and forget it all. They had only been there for an hour, but already their problems and confusion were miles and miles away.
Scratch that. Michael was incredibly confused. There he was, with his friend, talking, having a good time, and all he wanted was for something more to be there. It totally went against everything he had said before, everything he had mandated before about only being friends for now, about not being able to handle anything more. But there he was, with Lance, and that unmistakable feeling of desire for something more.
Michael was able to hold off the urges all afternoon though.
Just after the sun went down Lance and Michael decided to take a break from walking. The two of them plopped down into the sand and looked out onto the ocean as small waves continued to roll in, caressing their feet as it ebbed and flowed. They were both leaning back on their hands with their knees in the air, just staring off into the dark and star speckled horizon.
Lance broke the silence. "I still can't believe you threw your hat out the sun roof. That was the funniest thing I have seen in months," said Lance, smiling, but still looking toward the ocean.
"Shutup. It wasn't funny."
"Yeah it was. It was fucking hillarious."
Michael looked over at Lance, as Lance continued to stare out into the night. "I'm just glad I got to hear you laugh like that again. You haven't laughed like that in a long time."
"I know. There's a reason for that, you know," Lance replied slyly.
Michael put his hand on Lance's. Lance kept his gaze on the horizon. "What are you doing?" Lance asked calmly.
"I'm sorry. It just...it feels so right." Michael moved his hand away from Lance's.
"No no. It's alright. I just...don't want you to do something...you don't want to."
"I wouldn't be doing it if I didn't want to."
Lance finally looked over into Michael's eyes.
Michael looked into Lance's eyes as well. He could hardly make out Lance's expression in the dim light of the moon, but he could see straight into Lance's green eyes. He knew that something was still there. He could see it in his eyes, and he could feel it throughout his body. Michael leaned in slowly to kiss Lance. Lance met him halfway and the two of them kissed slower than they had ever kissed before. They were both so scared and so unsure of what was going on that they tried their hardest to be as careful as possible.
Slowly their kiss sparked and ignited into something more passionate. They were so bewildered and stunned that before either of them knew it they were holding each other in the sand as they rolled around, kissing and hugging with their entire bodies.
After awhile, Michael broke the kiss and looked down into Lance's eyes. He was going to tell him something, but before he could say anything he noticed Lance's eyes were different. They weren't green anymore. Michael looked again. It was Kyle. He was laying on top of Kyle now. Kyle just looked up into Michael's confused eyes and smiled.
"You know, you are a fantastic kisser. This has been an amazing day, Michael. I hope that..."
"What the fuck?" Michael asked, sitting up, still straddling Kyle.
"What? Did I say something wrong?"
"What? Where are we? What just happened?"
"Oh no, sweetie," began Kyle, with a concerned look on his face. "Did you black out again? Come 'ere. It's alright." Kyle held out his arms to embrace Michael, but Michael shot up off the sand.
"What the fuck are you talking about? Don't touch me. I don't want to be touched." Michael backed away. He felt the water getting higher and higher as he continued to back away, still staring at Kyle, who stayed at the edge of the water with a hurt and confused look on his face.
Kyle called out to Michael. "Where are you going? Are you just going to leave me now? Are you through with me?"
All of a sudden he saw Lance, standing there at the edge of the water with Kyle. Then he saw his mom and his dad. He saw his car. He saw his house. He saw his friends. He saw his school. He saw his work. He saw his whole life and everyone he had ever met and everything he had ever owned and every single problem he had ever come across, it was all right there, on the shore of the beach, waiting for him to come back. Waiting for him to come back and pay his debts.
Michael couldn't take it anymore. He closed his eyes and turned around. Michael blindly trodded deeper into the ocean. After only a few seconds though he opened his eyes just in time to see the giant wave come crashing down around him.
The wave knocked him down and carried him farther out to sea. Michael was floating, lifeless and beaten, but suddenly, he didn't care anymore. Michael just laid there, floating in the ocean, without a care in the world, as it took him farther and farther away from the coast. Farther and farther from all that awaited him back on land. Farther and farther from all the problems that faced him if he were to turn around and look.
Lady had taken it upon herself to wake Michael up by licking his face. She had seen him tossing and turning in bed and had decided it was time for him to escape his nightmare. She licked his face sweetly as he moaned and slowly awoke from his slumber.
And then...he got up...and...stuff...
Lance clapped obnoxiously. "Wonderful ending. Love the ending. Ya know, I think the best part is the ending. I mean, the ending...now THAT is pure genius. You should win an award or something."
That's enough of your sarcasm.
"Sorry, but you had to have known that was coming. I mean, seriously, it just kinda ends. What did you expect?"
I don't know. But aside from the ending, what did you think?
"It was pretty good. Although, I have just one comment. You always write about Michael, or Mark, and how Mark is still hung up on you. That's a bit, self-centered, don't you think?"
Its how I deal with things. Its how I get through the days.
"By convincing yourself that he'll regret everything he did to you?"
Exactly. It might not be right, but it's understandable, isn't it?
"Yeah. I would probably do the same thing."
You already did. Remember, you're the one who stays up until three o'clock in the morning having a fake conversation with your ex.
"Yeah yeah...so, are we ever gonna get over this?"
I dunno. What does it mean to be "over" something? To forget? To have it not affect you? Mark already affected me, and he always will. So, if being "over" something means forgetting or not letting something affect you then, no, we'll never be over this.
"That sucks..."
It does. I just have to do my best to make sure this whole ordeal doesn't ruin other good things in my life.
"Things with Peter?"
Things with whoever.
"So, did you accomplish what you wanted to?"
I guess. Of course, I'm not sure what I was really trying to accomplish this time. But I think I'm done for tonight.
"Wait. One last question."
You got it.
"Why don't you have quotations around all the things you said?"
I'm the author. I don't need quotations to justify or validifie the things I do or say. Just like I don't need someone else to justify or validify the things I do or say.
signed = haplesstext
Because frankly, I need something to occupy my thoughts with, and you're a prime candidate for that.
"That's all I am to you? Just something to occupy your thoughts? Just a passing thought? That's it?"
No. You're more important than that. You're me, or maybe you're just who I wish I was. You do the things I wish I could do. You say the things I wish I could say. You fill in the holes. You're like my non-existant partner in crime.
"But I do exist. Just because you can't feel me or see me doesn't mean I don't exist."
Fine. You got me there. Thoughts exist. I just meant that you dont exist in the world in a physical sense.
"There. That's better." Lance paused and looked around at the great, open, white plain. "There's nothing here."
Would you like there to be something here?
"A chair would be nice."
Fine. There was a stool next to Lance. Lance looked at it and took a seat.
"A stool? That's all I get?"
That's all you need.
"Fine. So, what now?"
I'm not sure. Do you have any questions?
"Why is my name Lance. I mean, if I'm you, shouldn't my name be Michael?"
Good question. Think back to the first story I wrote about you and Michael. Remember how you wanted to change your name...
"It's just. I mean, I can be happy now. I can go out and have fun with my friends. I can laugh. I can have a good time, but...i'm not happy with my life. I'm not happy with myself. In fact, I'm very UNhappy with myself. I had the stupidest, most ridiculous thought today," Lance said with a laugh. "I actually considered changing my name today. To what I don't know...but I just thought...i dunno...i just thought about it..."
"What would that solve?" asked Michael.
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing...but it'd be a change..." Lance stopped and looked around. "Ok. So, why is my name Lance?"
Well, Lance is the name that I would change my name to. Remember, the first story about you two actually happened.
"Right right."
Any other questions?
"What's Michael's real name?"
That's Mark.
"Why'd you give your ex-boyfriend your name? That seems to just complicates things. Ya know, I've noticed that a lot. You like to do things simply to make things more difficult."
I know. I gave him my name because I wanted to illustrate how alike we are, and how well I believe I know him.
"A little cocky, doncha think?"
Perhaps, but it's just a story.
"What about the other characters?"
Well, Ben from the story isn't the real life Ben. Ben from the story...his real name is Stuart. And then Kyle from the story...that's Ben. It's funny actually. Originally I just sorta pulled the name Kyle outta nowhere, but I was thinking about it the other day and I realized I had used the name Kyle before. Kyle is also my right kidney...and my right kidney has always given me the most problems with kidney stones. I found it quite fitting. Kyle being the source of problems and all...
"Do you really think Kyle or Ben or whoever, is the source of your problems with Mark or Michael or whoever?"
No, but he certainly complicated things. I told Mark that would happen. I did. I told him it was just a passing thing and that in a few weeks he was going to realize what he did and then Ben would just be another complication that Mark and I had to deal with.
"That's not how it happened though."
Obviously.
"So, the first story. That actually happened. So, you just wrote it as an interesting way of updating your journal?"
Pretty much. That, and its easier to detach yourself from events if you don't put yourself back in them when you write about them. That's where you come in.
"So, you created me to protect you from the pain?"
Bingo.
"Well, thanks. Now I feel so much better about my existance," Lance said sarcastically.
Oh please. Don't get angry simply because all you are is a means to an end. That's all any writing is. A means to an end. A conveyor of some kind of information.
"Whatever. I really don't have a choice in how you use me to complete your thoughts and fill in your holes, and that's fine. I don't care," he said coldly sincerely.
You're a great help, Lance. You help me say what I want to say, and it's greatly appreciated.
"Whatever. So, what are you trying to say with this entry, huh? Something thought provoking and eye opening? Or maybe you're just trying to say that Mark's a giant fuckhead who should go suck his own cock. Is that it? Is that what you want to say?"
All of a sudden Lance felt the barrel of a gun pressed tightly to his temple. He couldn't move, not out of fear, but because some unseen force was holding him in place on the stool.
You should be careful, Lance. Just because I've revealed myself to you doesn't give you the power to control me. I am still in control.
"That's what its all about, isn't it? Control? That's what you need. You need control over your life. Or at least the illusion of control. It's just like Jurrasic Park!"
Lance, you're hysterical. You should calm down.
Lance calmed down and the gun disappeared.
"I might be calm now, but I hope you realize it wasn't me who was out of control. It was you who made me do those things."
I'm going to pretend as if you didn't say that. Any other questions?
"You mentioned having an idea for another story. Would this story include me?"
Of course.
"What's it about?"
Its about you...and Mark, or Michael, I suppose. Depending on which set of names you want to use. It's about Mark and I, and then Mark and Ben, and then Peter and I.
"Who's Peter?"
Peter is...whoever I want him to be. He's everything I want in a guy. He's just...the one guy for me I suppose.
"Does this Peter have a real life counterpart?"
I sure hope so. Have I met him yet? I dunno. Maybe yes. Maybe no. Who can say really. Peter is just the one guy I'll be with forever. Whoever that might be.
"So, that's your story? Thats it? That's all I get?"
Well, it takes place at the beach.
"You write about the beach a lot."
Well, the beach is important to me. I can't help it if I like writing about the beach. Regardless, I think it's a pretty good story. A little trite maybe, but fairly good.
"Show me."
The warm sand massaged Michael's feet as he walked alongside his friend, Lance. They had decided to be friends for the time being, or moreso, Michael had told Lance that was all he wanted. Lance had argued against it many times, but Michael knew Lance couldn't really do anything about it. If he said they were just friends, then they were just friends, right? Michael tried not to think about it all though, as they walked together along the edge of the cool water, talking and laughing.
The beach always seemed to help the two of them escape from reality for just a moment. They could drive all the way out there, leaving the rest of the world behind, just to walk along the side of the water and forget it all. They had only been there for an hour, but already their problems and confusion were miles and miles away.
Scratch that. Michael was incredibly confused. There he was, with his friend, talking, having a good time, and all he wanted was for something more to be there. It totally went against everything he had said before, everything he had mandated before about only being friends for now, about not being able to handle anything more. But there he was, with Lance, and that unmistakable feeling of desire for something more.
Michael was able to hold off the urges all afternoon though.
Just after the sun went down Lance and Michael decided to take a break from walking. The two of them plopped down into the sand and looked out onto the ocean as small waves continued to roll in, caressing their feet as it ebbed and flowed. They were both leaning back on their hands with their knees in the air, just staring off into the dark and star speckled horizon.
Lance broke the silence. "I still can't believe you threw your hat out the sun roof. That was the funniest thing I have seen in months," said Lance, smiling, but still looking toward the ocean.
"Shutup. It wasn't funny."
"Yeah it was. It was fucking hillarious."
Michael looked over at Lance, as Lance continued to stare out into the night. "I'm just glad I got to hear you laugh like that again. You haven't laughed like that in a long time."
"I know. There's a reason for that, you know," Lance replied slyly.
Michael put his hand on Lance's. Lance kept his gaze on the horizon. "What are you doing?" Lance asked calmly.
"I'm sorry. It just...it feels so right." Michael moved his hand away from Lance's.
"No no. It's alright. I just...don't want you to do something...you don't want to."
"I wouldn't be doing it if I didn't want to."
Lance finally looked over into Michael's eyes.
Michael looked into Lance's eyes as well. He could hardly make out Lance's expression in the dim light of the moon, but he could see straight into Lance's green eyes. He knew that something was still there. He could see it in his eyes, and he could feel it throughout his body. Michael leaned in slowly to kiss Lance. Lance met him halfway and the two of them kissed slower than they had ever kissed before. They were both so scared and so unsure of what was going on that they tried their hardest to be as careful as possible.
Slowly their kiss sparked and ignited into something more passionate. They were so bewildered and stunned that before either of them knew it they were holding each other in the sand as they rolled around, kissing and hugging with their entire bodies.
After awhile, Michael broke the kiss and looked down into Lance's eyes. He was going to tell him something, but before he could say anything he noticed Lance's eyes were different. They weren't green anymore. Michael looked again. It was Kyle. He was laying on top of Kyle now. Kyle just looked up into Michael's confused eyes and smiled.
"You know, you are a fantastic kisser. This has been an amazing day, Michael. I hope that..."
"What the fuck?" Michael asked, sitting up, still straddling Kyle.
"What? Did I say something wrong?"
"What? Where are we? What just happened?"
"Oh no, sweetie," began Kyle, with a concerned look on his face. "Did you black out again? Come 'ere. It's alright." Kyle held out his arms to embrace Michael, but Michael shot up off the sand.
"What the fuck are you talking about? Don't touch me. I don't want to be touched." Michael backed away. He felt the water getting higher and higher as he continued to back away, still staring at Kyle, who stayed at the edge of the water with a hurt and confused look on his face.
Kyle called out to Michael. "Where are you going? Are you just going to leave me now? Are you through with me?"
All of a sudden he saw Lance, standing there at the edge of the water with Kyle. Then he saw his mom and his dad. He saw his car. He saw his house. He saw his friends. He saw his school. He saw his work. He saw his whole life and everyone he had ever met and everything he had ever owned and every single problem he had ever come across, it was all right there, on the shore of the beach, waiting for him to come back. Waiting for him to come back and pay his debts.
Michael couldn't take it anymore. He closed his eyes and turned around. Michael blindly trodded deeper into the ocean. After only a few seconds though he opened his eyes just in time to see the giant wave come crashing down around him.
The wave knocked him down and carried him farther out to sea. Michael was floating, lifeless and beaten, but suddenly, he didn't care anymore. Michael just laid there, floating in the ocean, without a care in the world, as it took him farther and farther away from the coast. Farther and farther from all that awaited him back on land. Farther and farther from all the problems that faced him if he were to turn around and look.
Lady had taken it upon herself to wake Michael up by licking his face. She had seen him tossing and turning in bed and had decided it was time for him to escape his nightmare. She licked his face sweetly as he moaned and slowly awoke from his slumber.
And then...he got up...and...stuff...
Lance clapped obnoxiously. "Wonderful ending. Love the ending. Ya know, I think the best part is the ending. I mean, the ending...now THAT is pure genius. You should win an award or something."
That's enough of your sarcasm.
"Sorry, but you had to have known that was coming. I mean, seriously, it just kinda ends. What did you expect?"
I don't know. But aside from the ending, what did you think?
"It was pretty good. Although, I have just one comment. You always write about Michael, or Mark, and how Mark is still hung up on you. That's a bit, self-centered, don't you think?"
Its how I deal with things. Its how I get through the days.
"By convincing yourself that he'll regret everything he did to you?"
Exactly. It might not be right, but it's understandable, isn't it?
"Yeah. I would probably do the same thing."
You already did. Remember, you're the one who stays up until three o'clock in the morning having a fake conversation with your ex.
"Yeah yeah...so, are we ever gonna get over this?"
I dunno. What does it mean to be "over" something? To forget? To have it not affect you? Mark already affected me, and he always will. So, if being "over" something means forgetting or not letting something affect you then, no, we'll never be over this.
"That sucks..."
It does. I just have to do my best to make sure this whole ordeal doesn't ruin other good things in my life.
"Things with Peter?"
Things with whoever.
"So, did you accomplish what you wanted to?"
I guess. Of course, I'm not sure what I was really trying to accomplish this time. But I think I'm done for tonight.
"Wait. One last question."
You got it.
"Why don't you have quotations around all the things you said?"
I'm the author. I don't need quotations to justify or validifie the things I do or say. Just like I don't need someone else to justify or validify the things I do or say.
signed = haplesstext