Drawing the Line by K. H.
I often think about how caught in the middle I am, like an ocean, squashed between two bits of land. I think it’s quite revealing of my mentality: after all, is the land trapping the ocean, or is the ocean ensnaring the land? When we get down to the crux of things, all land mass is just an island and the sea is inescapable once we get to the coast. We cannot avoid the ocean: that body of water that is dense and frightening, always there. When I close my eyes, the sea stays with me, strangely static even as the tide comes in. Suspended in a spider’s web is another fine example of how I feel. Caught in the sticky tangle of a humble spider, I watched a fly struggle for its life the other day. Every five minutes or so it would buzz, flapping its wings in a frenzy. Every time, the spider would take a few steps back and survey it from a distance, biding its time until it could have its meal. I wonder how flies taste to a spider. I wonder whether I am the fly or the spider. After all, the spider is also sitting suspended, balanced atop a web of its own making. When you’re in the middle, there is always uncertainty. In the middle of a plane journey: am I going to make it off this plane? In the middle of a relationship: are we going to last?
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