In chapter one of “Lament of the morbid Soul: Sully’s Magma” I foreshadow the story of the character’s memoir: a story within a story, which should be indicative of a tragic life–a life much like that of “Benjamin Button,” who seemed to be out of sorts with time. One knows how easily it is to step into wrong places, what is only to be identified as “stepping from the frying pan, and into the fire.” This is such a story, “Sully’s Magma.”
My daily routine is always the same. Before I rise, I have a debate with myself: do I want to live today, or not. Yes, always I end on the side of life, but remember this is every day since I was sixty-two years old, and this is becoming a monotonous and insignificant game I play with my self. It is only to sustain my life for just one more day. The alternative is suicide. You wonder what would cause such a morbid debate. I don’t blame you. I seem selfish, and solipsistic, do I not?
I am reminded of something Hemingway once said in a letter. He said:
“The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry.
I believe there were many times I should have died, but for some reason I was spared. I was a sweet and innocent child most my life. Ultimately, things kept happening in it that broke me in places.
© Lydia Nolan, September 1, 1996