I have concluded that I am a deep thinker. And sometimes, in my head it’s so quiet I could hear a pin drop at the very back of my skull. And I know that I am solely alone, observing and watching, free to think clearly to myself, amused and there is a visible do not disturb sign in my eyes. And I can see that it is working. I can see that I project the things that I hope to be real and take place. Or I am just a mystery, a confusing heap upon the sofa sobbing without explanation. But you can’t help but take pity and ignore it for lack of a blow to the fragile pride that’s been left in tact.
Sometimes I feel so diplomatic but I blurt out words and phrases that only I ever swore made sense. Nothing ever does and half of the time I’m positive I sound like a loon, missing that valuable connection that I so eloquently thought I placed. I’ve misplaced my words and my tongue and I avoid eye contact, caught up, tripping over my own feet one too many times. I can’t speak. I trip, I spit and I go blank stuttering and conversation escapes me so I turn around and leave and that is why I cherish working as I do. Each moment is controlled at the sole by my necessity to do something responsible and I use my labor shield to my advantage. I couldn’t have planned it so well. I feel like things are coming together but I know that I’m just lucky. I spend my waking moments dipping foreboding thoughts, trying to forget and shirking responsibility. I have concluded that my strong point is avoiding the inevitable and each moment the shit could hit the fan, I slide by because I can foresee the outcome. It’s foggy but my stomach doesn’t churn and my muscles don’t twitch as I fight the itch to scream and turn away. I always wanted to be blunt and outspoken but I could never bring myself to do so because the things I think about the world are not always appropriate and should be censored to save face. It’s difficult to be so blunt when the things you think could turn out to be a loaded gun.
Hollow and wanting you picture each scenario in your head until the moment you’re dead. You doubt yourself, drowning in temptation for all vices from procrastination to cigarettes and you end up buried believing you can’t quit. I twist myself in blankets wishing I could fit a routine into my head but each attempt to structure something so erratic and blissful fails miserably so I burn it to the ground. My decision making skills may never be sound, but my love for freedom and fate over power and make it easier not to worry. I spend too much time, far too much, dwelling on what I’ve done wrong, said wrong or just haven’t done. Some things just can’t be changed or altered so what sense is there in worrying about all that could go wrong. So much could go right as well.
And then I fall.