Mature language disclaimer: There is mature language used.

Tyler taps his startlingly clean nails on the table.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

I examine my own, nicotine stained and scratched.

The noise is hypnotic, and I concentrate on it. I match my breathing.

I am Jack’s loss of control.

I stare down at my hand; the chemical burn still throbs dully, sometimes.

“Stop that.” Tyler narrows his eyes at me.

“Stop what?”

“Thinking. Wondering. What if-ing. Stop all of it. To explore the alternatives is to admit there is fear in your choice. It is weakness and it is exploitable.”

“Tyler, you mean to tell me that you’ve never wanted to take one step back? Never wished you’d done something else?” I shake my head. “You’re a fucking liar.”

“No. I’m a fucking dumbass. I’m a fucking screw up. But I am not a fucking liar.” We stand in silence. Tyler is right. He probably isn’t a fucking liar. He’s a concealer in order to reveal, but he is not a liar. I pour glycerin into another container. “You, however, are.” He adds.

The silence continues.

“So?”

“So? So confront me on that. Don’t shy away from the truth.” Eyes narrow further. Tyler stops what he is doing. I don’t know if I should tread more carefully but I do know I don’t want to add another chemical burn to make myself more symmetrical.

I read somewhere once that the most attractive feature of a person is their symmetry. At work for awhile I took to cropping photos in half and then copying the half left over to make a full face so I could decide whether or not it made them more attractive. I started doing it to colleagues and finally to myself. According to Science, I was this close to being attractive. I stare down into the container.

“Okay, Tyler, how am I a fucking liar?” another unknown substance added. I am afraid. I have been through hell and back and I am still afraid of this one man and his opinion. Tyler smirks and doesn’t look up from what he is doing.

“Because you won’t admit it.” Tyler Durden has the most roundabout way of getting to a point.

“Admit what?”

“Exactly! Anything! Goddamnit, you won’t admit anything. You don’t know and if you did, you still wouldn’t admit anything. You’re scared of humanity and you’re scared to be human. You’re scared of your broken routine and you wonder if you missed out on normalcy. It’s so backwards, so… broken. All this, is to fear your mistakes when they are what make us great. You’re a liar. I told you to wake up. What are you waiting for?”

Silence. More silence. I wonder if I’m concentrating symmetrically.

“So…”

“So fuck what if! ‘What if’ is to look for order where there should be none. And in the end it doesn’t make a difference. Not one. Because we have the capacity to make mistakes and we always will. That is fact, inevitable. To believe otherwise is to believe in orderliness. To give random events order is to forget what makes them great. It is letting God win.”

Tyler is right, like he usually is. I took all that I’d learned from that night – the realization – and filed it away, wanting it to come back in due time. I am adjusting. I am not ready. I don’t know anything – but I know I shouldn’t be afraid.