Straight No Chaser

Like All the Lights Just Blew At Once

pretty sure i capitalized that title wrong.

don't care, though. all of a sudden i am really, really sad. the free weights made my shoulders hurt and my mom went to bed before i could tell her to have a safe trip to boston and i came here as soon as conan and carson were over just totally hating life. and for no particular reason (lie lie lie lie lie that's a bright red lie).

and i am fighting the temptation to make this phone call i really shouldn't make, really fighting it, because i really shouldn't, because it would certainly mess everything up. what i want is to go to sleep and what i need is a sedative. knock me out and let me be.

i forget, frequently, why i ever chose the "good" life. why, when i first went shopping for personas, i chose virginal and straight-laced, which are really just cutesy little underwires to the heavier fabric of angry and repressed. i don't like substance. i don't like physicality. i don't like the ideas of sex or drugs or drink as the answer to anything cerebral. i don't like ignorance and i don't like evil and i hate hate. i always take less than i need and give more than i have, which is why i've got this tattoo on my face, footprints marching vertically toward my forehead.

it's limbo. not quite enough good, not nearly enough bad. it needs repair, it needs extremes. i can see how people start to want strange things. i can imagine if anyone ever punched me, kicked me, totally beat me down and tore me apart, it'd feel a thousand times better just to be held, afterward.

i don't want that, obviously. i've never wanted to hurt, which is why it sucks so bad when i do.

what i do want, and i'd consider this a personal favor, is for all the motherly types--those readers offering warm wishes and the wisdom of age--to run your usual bit: shake your heads, smiling, cluck and murmur condescendingly at how foolish i am, because nothing really matters at this age, nothing is really as bad as it seems, nothing is worth losing sleep over unless it's attached to a house payment or a chemical imbalance or a deadly disease.

i will take comfort in knowing that's what you're doing.

here's how dumb i am: i am so dumb, that as mad and sad and cringingly dread-full as i am, right now, it still makes me smile, just a bit, to know it's time to put up my pretty, pretty butterfly.

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