I wonder if this happens to most other people? – As I sit here and write about it, im left still wondering. This is (these are) the trail(s) that took me home though. – My wild imagination just taking hold of every little thought that comes into my head, and escorting them – willingly or not – into a faraway place.
Invariably somehow, this ‘faraway place’ is always dark. Tonight, I imagined someone I worked with and her new infatuation. – Not so unusual, because the subject entered briefly into the many trivial things that two other colleagues and I spoke about. Though ‘spoke’ – for such a simple word – is usually a term given to some kind of communication with far more substance or consequence.
What was unusual though, was me imagining that he came into work to see her on some occasion in the future, was immature and bullish, when I pulled him aside and threatened to rip his head from his neck if he didn’t “shut the fuck up”.
I don’t even know the guy. Moreso, ive no reasons to believe that he would a) come in to our venue, b) be ‘immature and bullish’ to me, c) have a neck, or d) need to be put in his place by instigating extreme violence, most probably resulting in death.
Now that I see these words on the page I know that surely, this doesn’t happen to most other people.
My mind just takes whatever is before me, and does whatever it chooses to do with it. Often. Its strange. It’s a strange manifestation of something that im not totally aware of. Yes im angry in some way, but why have these thoughts without provocation? And why let these thoughts suck the real out of reality at all?
I wonder if it happens to most other people? To many? To any? To few?
Fucking boring conversation earlier anyway. The same people, dribbling the same shit. I suppose when you eat it all the time, you don’t actually notice the taste, or the stink on your breath. You bignote yourself, speaking in arrogant tongues and self-righteous and self-praising monotony.
I don’t need this shit, I don’t need anything.
A couple of responses to my letter to myself stir wicked emotions within.
I start to write a poem, and then realise that im not feeling poetic but rather, frustrated. At a loose end.
My whiskey tastes delicious. Its sweet and vanillary, and warm, flavours lingering on my tongue and around the edges of my mouth.
There’s a hole in my world at the moment, and its being filled with voids. A black hole, some would say. Eating the universe – (like a black hole, some would say). My eyes sting because I need to sleep, so ill probably do that soon. A frustrating night behind the stick has withered me.
I just need a day off.
Even though yesterday, I said that ‘I don’t need anything’.
Clearly, that was a lie.
Im also waiting to receive mail from a few people.
I keep thinking of what has happened. I feel like im slowly bleeding out all of the bad blood that was inside me, and now its sticking to my skin and dragging me down.
A long slow process of bleeding and cleaning up the mess ahead?..
Sometimes, I genuinely feel like im experiencing my own life, outside myself, subjectively. Everything sounds different, feels different, I cant tell how it looks. But its acute. And I just felt it now.
Today was fucked. I got swallowed by a spiral of dark vibes and longing, hurt, shame and hate, all magnified by the dark clouds of recent times passed. It was just hard, and I just wasn’t there.
– Imagine living a day on earth, when you’re not really around. Like a ghost. Creeping through the sunlight, waiting for the dark so you can hide in the shadows and not be noticed. That’s how I felt. Or, that’s how I think I felt. Or feel. Who the fuck knows? Its just a spiral of confusion at the moment, and it pulls me down and down, and I just keep swimming.
There couldn’t be enough things in every moment to occupy my mind. Only time will tell. I know that time will tell.
Things taunt me. Things I don’t want to know, things that I cant stop and things that I only dare to elaborate upon but take no further. Because its enough.
Im just writing for the sake of it. Nothing is coming out of this.
Go to bed.
I saw one of my best mates today. Finally. I say ‘finally’ because it feels like the respite from the world that I needed. Odd, yes.. Respite from the world. I suppose we all need it sometimes. There’s nothing though, that is comparable to the ease you feel when you’re with an old friend, doing what you do best – reminiscing, laughing, drinking, eating, talking, being comfortable, not worrying about judgment, losing paranoia, killing time.
For the first time in a while, I didn’t think about anything other than what was happening in the now, the present.
That was earlier.
And now its now.
Nothing is happening.
I just cant get a grasp on reality at the moment.
This is not life.
So, it went a little something like this:
Me: I saw you guys earlier, and I just thought id come over and say hi, and introduce myself.
Me: yeah, you looked young and friendly, and im not.
Me (continuing): so I thought id just come over here and let you know yeah?
Me: So. if you want to knock on my door, fuck off, if you want to tell me something fuck off, if you think I care, definitely fuck off. Don’t tell me to turn my music down – you will notice heavy music from time to time – most of the time – just leave me alone basically, I don’t want to know you.
(only he responds, while his girlfriend/partner/friend/travel buddy/whore looks on in disbelief) “I see”
Me: Yep, that’s about it. Just wanted you to know. Because, well.. yeah. You looked young and friendly, and I didn’t want you guys to get confused into thinking that you could assume the same thing about me. Not that I look friendly. But yeah. I know I look young.
Me: Im (_____) anyway.
(offers hand to shake, he shakes it, she smiles meekly but her hands are pressed to the sides of her thighs)
(they speak in unison, timidly) “Nice to meet you”
(obviously they have no name)
(He turns, pushes the door handle down, and walks back through the door into his room, just across the hall from their own, where they are left standing)…