MENTAL HYPERTENSION, AGAIN, IN WHICH SOME THINGS FALL APART BUT YOU REMEMBER, THEY ARE APART
If she said anything, I know it would be a whole bunch of things that I’d have to respond to in more and more intricate ways, things I’d have to remember and recall not only during my long winded explanation and examination but much later, as in, two or three weeks later when this type of yell/fight/conversation thing whatever it’s called comes back again. She’d say “you said this ‘line'” like its an affidavit and I’d have to again go into the intricate reasons and realities to justify a single line out of context for a moment, so I am careful now[1]. I asked her ‘do you want me to be careful from now on, like, do you want me to only deliver fully fledged finished complete sentences you can use tat have been so thought out and carefully matriculated so as to be all encompassing and so finished that really there is no room for argument and are intelligently thought out to a degree that even my momentary feelings have been packaged and presented in such as way that can be taken and processed with minimal if no rebuttal/confusion/refutation/confusion?”[2].
I didn’t say any of that, I thought that after saying these really horrible ridiculous things. Like how ‘I need to keep drinking in order to deal with this world’ OR ‘How terrible it is to live though all this shit and not drink a lot of wine very day’ OR ‘How I can’t possibly live with all these humans doing all the disgusting slash beautiful things that they do and NOT have a bottle of wine every night to handle it all’[3]. That’s, in the end, what she hates: The Bottle of Wine. I switched to a cask and that helped (because there were less empty glass bottles left over and it was harder for her to count). I can keep talking until the cows come home about how important it is for me to drink wine every night and I am hard pressed to get any resolution or intervention from this. The only way out is to be loved and supported and feel safe, that my world is crumbling and that people are useless and stupid and that I am dying in vain and that I have a future in which I am alone[4]… Ironically it seems that this low level drinking thing could cause the latter lonely life yet I have no evidence from the rest of the writing world to substantiate this analogy, only the tale of morons who had nothing to contribute in the first place[5]. Sorry for the arrogance, but…[6]
I forgive myself every morning, only when dressed of course. In the mirror I see a person I am becoming and it’s refreshing, better and better, not worse and worse as before (although to be honest in some sick world ‘worse and worse’ was also doing so damned well as well…). Dying is not scary, dying is in some ways honest and proper. I’m not scared of dying, sickness yes, it sucks but dying itself is somehow loving and proper. Inevitable. Now for me its dying in the most humane way and with a certain level of accomplishment. That’s all it is…if I can touch a large population with the things I know and feel and have seen then guess what? Bye Bye. Lovely and finished and done. I will be heartbroken to see her go but I will know that my love is real and true and even though I have said so many bad things and been so horribly manipulative and false and leading a multi-faceted more than double life, I will know deep down that I gave what I could, now, knowing all I do. We’re worms[7].
[1] The delicate word play and emotional management, we think, is so important when in reality, truthful emotional response to every and any thing is the most desired, true and cared for result. We don’t do this often enough…we want the other person to smile and then as a result we can smile again as well like we have achieved something, like we have made the world better but what have we done rally but continue pretending, behind our own backs this time. As if sweeping emotion under the rug is the cure for cancer.
[2] Disgusting, but, if you can do this well (to your soul’s detriment) then there will be no more nights like this, but of course, then you will be watching a movie with actors and you are a director or at least the lead actor with a his or hers trailer.
[3] Lies, falsehoods, justifications…how easily we fool ourselves and how funny they are in hindsight. Like ‘oh my god did you seriously say that? You didn’t even believe yourself, let alone convincing someone else. You are an idiot. Don’t pretend you don’t wake up somewhat hungover and thing ‘no more please god no more, please help me I can’t stop, I know it now and I don’t want this anymore’
[4] No comment…it sounds worse than it is. I am happy.
[5] More justification for my behaviour. Like posting Wikipedia links or telling long winded stories about how pretty much every good writer was a borderline or fully fledged alcoholic…Kafka, Carver, Dostoyevsky etc. I can’t do that right now, I am not a fully fledged published writer…sure I wasn’t born in the renaissance of creative fiction, I was born in the grey goo of modern blog/self publishing/video log days. No editors, no publishers, no reason to listen to anyone anymore.
[6] Not really…have you been reading/writing?
