Disaster comes over the horizon like some leviathan come creeping from the depths of the Adriatic Sea where the abyss is no longer aquamarine but black as the pitch of the devils eyes.
    It crawls on its belly, flopping around in my thoughts like a whale with a stomach ache, trying to curl up into some contorted fetal position, but only making a mess of my mind.
    A life like mine seems constantly disturbed by Cyclops and Sirens and Hydras, constantly is the kingdom of my soul and good intentions under attack by some new horde of the unnatural troubles that are drawn to the light.
    How can you explain to someone why you did things a certain way? How can you tell someone that you never really had a thing for them in the first place, that it was a fabrication, or just a wave of loneliness that overcame your own conscious decision making skills? How can you tell someone “I didn’t mean it” and not send them crashing down some dark thought process of “What’s wrong with me?
    Too often have I been on the receiving end of blows often defined by friendship, family, or love, and my eyes would tell the story of the pain and wounding and permanent damage of many of those terrifying strikes.
    How can I inflict that on another? How could I? Why did I?
    For all my boastfulness that I’m older than I look, I’m still grossly immature when it comes to self-control. I eat chocolate covered donuts for breakfast every morning, I have since the 5th grade and I’ll keep doing it till I’m 50. The same applies to my emotional havoc; people tell me that my mind makes “Matrix jumps” like Neo going from roof top to rooftop or flying through the air.
    My mind will take something someone said that had no real meaning and transform it, connect obscure dots to reach conclusions that make me laugh or smile or shake my head. When people ask me what I’m thinking and I tell them, after a conversation about Absolute Truth, that I’m thinking about “Flower Stencils and Orange Paint” and I can explain the logic behind the two are connected.
    Matrix jumps between topic and topic, but still well within city boundaries.
    Now, those matrix jumps are causing unrest because they’ve infiltrated my emotions; one minute I can be sad and dark, the next laughing hysterically for ten minutes straight without any apparent reason. This has led many to believe I’m crazed, but really, it’s just the way my mind works. Luckily for me, Brian is much the same way, I think between the two of us, there is always a laugh waiting to explode.
    But with Ben, the little corner of a vastly larger triangle, I find myself worried about the disaster of my emotional unrest as I leap and bound between reasoning.
    For a minute, I considered the possibility of going-out with Ben, but that died as swiftly as it jumped into my brain, it just keeled over, without so much as a twitch. It seemed grossly unnatural to try to up the level on our relationship. But the hopefulness in that one minute that I fear Ben may’ve succombed to, well, now that hopefulness is a pile of cold cinder after someone poured a gallon jug of napalm on a small fire.
    How can I explain that I didn’t mean to do that? I didn’t mean to, I really didn’t, yet…the emotional leaps and bounds of my own psychosis has given to me this flopping demon in the dark unknown. And I have no idea how to move the sucker out of the way.
    How many times, how many ways, can you tell someone the same information? How can anyone stomach that god awful sentence, that lame excuse:
    “It’s not you, it’s me.”
    Yet, it’s not you, Ben, it’s the fact that I’m 1/2 insane and  in love with your best friend.
*demon beast screams like a lobster in hot water and goes still*

Wow. I think I killed it.
*twitch*
Fuck.

3 thoughts on “

  1. Oh, the dots.  I do that too, sort of.  I dwell on a few meaningless words and fill them with hidden subtext to create either that delusional, best-case scenario or the terrible, nightmarish, all-hope-is-lost worst-case scenario.  Grr.

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