Pots and Pans
So much inner creep so little to creep on.
I spent most of today thinking about all the things that are wrong in my life. I was just in a really negative mind set, focusing on all the shitty things I don’t like. I don’t know how it happened or why, but when I got some coffee, things changed. Maybe I really do have an addiction to caffeine. Because before I was miserable.
I don’t like that I’m a dramatic nerd either. I focus on things and get myself worked up emotionally for horrible reasons. When I was falling into that dark little area, I was completely aware of it, and completely incapable of doing anything to stop it.
So what’s that mean? I about blew up but didn’t. Is it buried or did I let it go? What have I been eating, is that it? Or is there something in the water of Bowling Green?
I haven’t written because my life’s a mess and it seems like the solution to that messiness is more money. So I sit and work and brainstorm but forget what’s most important. Stopping is most important.
I’ve looked everywhere for that final piece of my purpose, that fits everything into perfect focus. When my life and my love and my money and my friends all turn into a laser beam of perfection.
It’s dirty.
Nothing fits anywhere, nothing just falls into place. If you fall forward you’ll really fall backwards into a pool of sharks. There is no up no down just a god and his will; we are little pawns and nobody is playing. I’ll sit and stare and please don’t grab my hair. I want a nice, mellow ride.
Everything worth doing is difficult to the point of being impossible. That doesn’t make the attempt any less worthwhile or noble.
So where does that leave me and my pen and this right hand and the left one too?
I ate painkillers for three days in a row, and they about killed me. They made me want to throw up, but I couldn’t. My head became cloudy and I couldn’t think straight. I walked around like a zombie, thinking I was alive and coherent, but completely dead to the world on the inside.
My dreams last night were nightmares. I got lost in one of them, became convinced I was drugged and then attacked. I called my dad within my dream to come find me, even thought we still don’t get along. Even though no one still gets along with him.
I wish I knew what I should be doing now, I wish there was a little keyhole you could look through and see your destiny. Because now and forever it feels like there’s a lot of static getting caught up in the message I’m supposed to be receiving, the one that really matters.
