2004-10-10 - 12:26 PM

Today, woke up apathetic. Hours progressed. Became sad. So I tried going to sleep again, so I could wake up again. To call a psychological mulligan and toss the dice of my soul on the table once more.
They came up Sa and p. Flip the last one around. Yeah, my dice came up "Sad."
Sometimes, when it occurs to me that I've hit a day where it would be greatly satisfying to utterly, utterly avoid people, exceptions pop into mind. Amanda was once an exception, but only through conditioning: She once showed up on a personal bubble day, and we made out and talked about cartoons.
The real exceptions, make-out free, take different forms, and although they've never occured in combination, something tells me they're strictly one-at-a-time when used in this way.
Billy is excellent for silence. You can absorb media with him, on a couch or in a car, and get filtered quality time, without the pain of social interaction.
Dave... Misery loves company. He can tap a special sort of broken self-loathing that makes him instantly able to relate to just about anybody who's ever been sad, without pretense or advice or anything annoying like that. Sometimes you just need someone to sit in the hole with you, instead of pull you out.
Coral, my shield. When my Grandma died, for weeks afterward I would come home from class and sit down next to Coral, and put my head on her shoulder. Verbal exchange was basic, with long pauses in between for communicating with silence.
"You okay?"
"Yeah."
"Liar."
"Yeah."
I could be beside her, my head on her shoulder or in her lap, and close my eyes. She'd sigh and frown worriedly and hold me, and for that moment in time, it would be like if I didn't look, the world couldn't see me either.
Heather, my sword. The dichotomy isn't remotely lost on me, that thefuriously raw chaotic force of nature that I call "My Upgrade" is one of those I feel safe with, moreso than most others. If the mind's eye intersected reality, if the figurative became literal, on bad days you would see me surrounded by the masses, and in a flurry of motion picking up Heather by the ankles and swinging her wildly through the air, beating back the hordes with her cute little fists and weaving tapestries of shock and profanity that could capture and steal away the very air in the sails of the mob until, confused, petrified and just a little offended, they would drop their torches and shuffle sadly home.
But Billy's in Santa Barbara, Dave's in Illinois. Heather's in Ojai, and Coral's not picking up her phone.
I am, however, determined to conquor this.
Possibly by putting on my Thundercats T-shirt. I haven't decided yet. But I'm gonna go give my reflection a pound. I think he needs one.
-Alex

|

Slide back | Stumble forward