I think I may be losing my mind. Just a little. Just a slight slackening of my grip on reality.
I guess this is what happens when you go through a lot of change in a short period of time and think way too much about it. Or, at least, this is what happens to me under those circumstances.
Also what happens to me is that Espy and I skip book club in order to eat samosas and run into a goat tied up outside of a bar, like a mother fucking episode of Little Lulu.
Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction, Friends.
Sometimes I forget to care about whether or not I’m vegan and eat Little Caesar’s pizza (and breadsticks…and italian cheese bread…) for dinner. With Sperry and Killah Watts. While watching “Dancer in the Dark.”
It was a weird night.
Sometimes the worst words find you through text message, and you shakily wash the dishes, run like an animal, and then talk until you cry until you laugh. Then things are okay.
Until even worse words find you through the internet, and you stop eating anything but simple carbs and klonopin, putting one foot in front of the other like it’s the only thing you know how to do, because it’s the only damn thing you CAN do. Because it’s over.
Until it’s not. Right? I don’t know. My brain and heart still have a lot of catching up to do, a mind-boggling effort to synch up with this new and strange reality.
My sleep patterns could use a catch-up, as well. Maybe that’s all I need–food and rest. Maybe I’m not going crazy, just a little.
* * *
I know there are people out there in the world–more than I’d wish for–who will read this and think, “Good.” People who will delight in my sorrow, my struggle. Or at least find it well-deserved.
Strange though it may sound, I find some consolation in that. At least someone can benefit from this feeling of being put through a meat grinder. If they read this and are pleased, well, then, that’s better than nothing.
Plus, you know, it’s real.