Missing Information

I call it doubt

It’s a catchall

To call it that is to misunderstand the problem

Like calling a sunflower “soil” in Winter

Soil is the ending, not the whole story

 

This thing doesn’t start with doubt

This thing starts with missing information

 

Like going to the pantry to grab that Fusilli pasta you know you bought last Friday to make a very important meal

… but suddenly it’s not there any more, and the pantry light isn’t working

You’re the only one who uses the pantry

You know deep down that you did buy that pasta

You were there and everything

You have no history of psychosis

Yet somehow against all reason

it’s gone now that you really need it

And it wouldn’t matter but this is a really important meal

It means a lot to you

You can’t just say “Fuck it!”, put it down to experience, and crack open a tin of beans

So you put your life on hold and keep going back to check

You take your best torch

You strain beyond your natural limits to see into every crevice of the pantry

You figure if you go back enough times and try enough different ways, eventually you will locate the missing pasta

 

… until you drive yourself insane

 

You cannot stop checking now

Yet conversely, every single time you check

it only serves to make you question the very thing you’re trying to prove

Maybe it wasn’t Fusilli – maybe it was Penne?

Maybe you didn’t even buy the pasta in the first place?

 

As time goes on you start to doubt whether you’re into pasta at all

Maybe you’re more a rice kind of guy?

Yes that must be it

You wouldn’t be having these unassailable doubts otherwise

Why don’t you just give up the search and accept what you really are?

 

Slowly slowly catchy monkey

in the chinese finger trap

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