CLOUD OF UNKNOWING

Three days ago, a big fucking portal opened off the coast of Tauranga, New Zealand. Didn't take long before the first dumbass decided to just jump in - I think he was some sort of TikTok guy, just happened to be close enough to hop in his daddy's helicopter and speed over to it. It was big news. Everyone was waiting around for news about the body. A routine bit of excitement, another international effort to bail a rich person out of a stupid decision. The next day though, she was tweeting. She wasn't here - although too giddy to give a comprehensible explanation for where it was she went. Her last post was an invitation. The media reached out to her family for any texts, calls, a picture maybe. They asked to be left alone to mourn their son. Another hole opened in, I think, Portugal? And then there were a whole lot more, and the world stopped tuning into Australian and New Zealand news.

I was living in Newport with my family when it started. My parents were absolutely headless - a normal, completely reasonable reaction to everything, frankly, just not one I could really muster. The family group chat got its first real use in years when my younger cousin went missing - sure enough, his parents got The Message shortly. They refused to share it or the photo that was attached. Everyone talked about it like the kid was dead. “Oh, he was such a sweet kid, he got so quiet in his teens, I had no idea he was so unhappy.” They were already in different worlds.

I couldn’t sleep. He wasn’t the first person I knew who had left, but we were close. I guess, once he left, I couldn’t really pretend that it was beyond me, for someone braver or more desperate. He was there. He was happy. He sent me a message too. A photo. I wept. There were questions I had never allowed myself to ask – but here they were kicking down the fucking door. It was 3am. I started sending messages.

This morning, I met some strangers at the beach. They were having a party. Maccas, goon, a little green. They invited me and my friend to join them. We would go together. It felt silly to be celebrating on such a tight budget, I guess we were half convinced that our bosses would climb into the hole to fish us out. We sat and chat and ate illuminated by a phone torch, sharing memories, not so much reminiscing as contextualising what we were about to do. We were afraid, but we were together, allowing ourselves to be known maybe for the first time. I thought that was going to be hard, but sitting there surrounded by these beautiful, open souls, there was no reason, no instinct that anything less was needed. We agreed to do our formal reintroductions afterwards, but there was some fun to be had speculating on how it was going to go: a little playful ribbing towards the furries in the circle, and within a few minutes we'd all shared something a little horny and a whole lot embarrassing. We all apologised for being messy weirdos, reflexively, for the last time. This was why we loved each other, and it was why we were on that beach. I will never know how to live with people who aren't perforated, leaking out every little hole and making a fucking mess of the place.

We had a few shit paddle boats hastily acquired the day prior. I paired up with my friend. We came out to each other before anyone else; we were connected, excited to embark on our journeys together even before they took on such a hilariously literal form. I took a little bow, gesturing to the boat like a chauffeur: I called her by her name and escorted her in. She put a finger to my lips and told me not to use it just yet. I smiled. " Likewise." We were so unfit, grumbling as we paddled towards oblivion, lagging even further behind the group thanks to our little tender moment. Approaching the precipice, we stopped. I gave my friend a hug. The shifting weight almost made us capsize as he fell ass backwards and me on top. I scrambled to push myself up, and our eyes met. We shared another first. A slightly embarrassing first, at the age of 22. Better late than never. By the time we finished, our friends had left us to our PDA. I took a deep breath, scanning over thousands of sparkling ripples as the sun began to rise. He took a deep breath, waiting patiently for my fugue to pass. We took our paddles. I told him I’d see her later. We gave ourselves a little push. There was nothing beneath me.

It took me a moment to find myself. I looked at my hand. I think it was there, I was sure it was there in front of me. I didn’t watch it disappear, and yet, it ceased to have definition. I couldn’t be sure anymore what I was looking at. My body, undone, the defining lines between myself and everything and nothing, I just couldn’t understand them anymore. I’m still trying to find the words. How it felt. Atomised, disassembled, reduced to a form without meaning or symbols, a cloud of unknowing inside which I had finally glimpsed myself.

Relief washed over me. She was nearby. Whatever form I would be given, I knew it would be me. Nothing else to consider. I let myself become infinity.

And in time, I was me again.

I’d love to introduce you to her.