A Test

by Robert Bradley

Dr. Feel would like you to take his test. Because Self-knowledge is a Valuable Tool. Take a moment out of your hectic day to reflect upon your Life as it unspools. You won’t Be Sorry. Don’t forget to show your Friends, let them in on the Real You:

You’ve taken to pulling the hair out of your head.

A. Because it was loose anyway.
B. Because you like it, it feels good.
C. Because you know it will grow back, at night.
D. Just to see it float, useless, weightless, indigestible, to the floor.

Boxes are piling up in your apartment.

A. Why?
B. Where do they come from?
C. Is this some sort of death you’re playing out?
D. What’s your game?

You write notes to yourself.

A. And throw them out unread.
B. They’re a call to action from some nostalgic part of your brain.
C. You never smile anymore.
D. You don’t do much of anything anymore.

You sit, sometimes, nuzzled up to your computer.

A. It sends you messages, coded, indecipherable, yet, somehow, beautiful.
B. Your pulse quickens.
C. Awash in its warm glow you grow sicker and sicker.
D. You’ve decided: no more red meat.

Whenever you leave your apartment…

A. You grow 6 inches.
B. You breathe differently.
C. You’re aware of the beauty around you.
D. Choking.

Tell us about your dreams.

A. They’re a complete replay of the previous day.
B. There’s an overhanging feeling of dread and they end abruptly in violence.
C. Unlike your waking hours which end in heavy sleep, all the violence is internal and petty.
D. You don’t sleep much.

Tell us about your thoughts.

A. They tumble over each other like clothes in a dryer.
B. They are, no doubt, dry by now.
C. Getting drier and drier.
D. You think too much.

Tell us about your balance. How do you balance yourself?

A. You suddenly become aware of your feet, neglected for so many years.
B. You balance over the heel. It has a sweet spot to the fore. Standing over it makes you tremble.
C. You try to forget everything you ever thought was true. And that seems to help.
D. But you’re shaking, now. Don’t worry. Surrender to it. There’s an animal inside you.

Tell us about the animal inside you.

A. It cries out like a mute beast.
B. Tongueless, wailing, inarticulate.
C. It must be sacrificed to some blind, mechanistic god.
D. We’re waiting.

Tell us about your pain.

A. You suffer because you don’t know any better. You suffer innocently.
B. You suffer because you’re full of bile and resentment.
C. You suffer because there’s so much pain around you and you can’t distinguish it from your own.
D. It shimmers and hums and remains hidden.

Tell us about your childhood.

A: No?
B: Are you refusing to answer, or to remember?
C: We are not without resources.
D: Take a break.

Now, about your birth…

A: Do you recall the forceps wrenching you from your mother’s womb into the cold, harsh, uncaring light? What’s changed?
B: How have you survived this long?
C: Tell us your secret.
D: Tell us.

Who are you?

A. You’re some kind of clown, is that it?
B. A joker? A fool?
C. Bozo the Clown, he was a clown. Who are you?
D. There’s pain. And there’s nothing. You don’t get to choose.

So, how did you do?

If you answered any of these questions you already know what we’re going to say. If you didn’t answer any of the questions it doesn’t matter, the result is the same. If you skipped over the questions, the result is the same, only sooner.

In every case I’m afraid the result is the same. You’re fucked. Now, send this to your friends, to those others who would know you a little better. Don’t bother about the score. I believe we already know the score. Don’t we?

Robert Bradley has confined himself to a smallish room in a beach town to think about what he’s done. You can email him for more details.