I received a fun little quote challenge from One Hot Grandma (A Nene’s Life) today. It calls for posting 1-3 quotes for three days, then nominating three bloggers to do the same. Since I’m always jotting down quotes anyway, I’ve decided to participate.
My first quote is more an excerpt – a paragraph from a novel. I bookmarked it because it articulates something familiar in me. For some reason, I’ve always felt essentially alone, as though no one truly understands me enough that I should feel otherwise. Although I’ve always been extremely close to my siblings, the older we’ve gotten, the more I get a sense of that strangeness the character in the book is talking about. More and more frequently, I would blanch at something said, and fear would steal me as I wonder, Do I even know this person? Certainly, I’ve been on the receiving end as well. The feeling of aloneness is amplified when they fix me with stunned gazes, wondering at my purple, alien aspect and squint eyes: From what planet do you hail?
Well, on to my quote. In the middle of an argument with his wife, the protagonist stopped short at something she said, and pondered the following. I’m not married myself, but I wonder if anyone has felt like this with their partner (or some other close person). If so, how did you handle it?
Louis stared at her, nonplussed. He more than half suspected that one of the things which had kept their marriage together when it seemed as if each year brought the news that two or three of their friends’ marriages had collapsed was their respect of the mystery—the half-grasped but never spoken idea that maybe, when you got right down to the place where the cheese binds, there was no such thing as marriage, no such thing as union, that each soul stood alone and ultimately defied rationality. That was the mystery. And no matter how well you thought you knew your partner, you occasionally ran into blank walls or fell into pits. And sometimes (rarely, thank God) you ran into a full-fledged pocket of alien strangeness, something like the clear-air turbulence that can buffet an airliner for no reason at all. An attitude or belief which you had never suspected, one so peculiar (at least to you) that it seemed nearly psychotic. And then you trod lightly, if you valued your marriage and your peace of mind; you tried to remember that anger at such a discovery was the province of fools who really believed it was possible for one mind to know another.
– Culled from the Stephen King book, Pet Sematary.